Business Sense Ch 01 Manager

Background summary, since far too much happened in

Mentor

to suggest reading / re-reading.

Fiala

made

an ill-considered play

for Kayla, the protagonist of Mentor, who was quite cruel in her rejection. She dropped out of sight for a while, though the end of the story implies she's doing better. I felt she had more to offer. This is her story.

Kayla is now engaged to Anita. This story begins a little over a year after the engagement, and a little under two years after the Halloween party where Fi's life became uncomfortable.

A few others (Tiff, Emma, Heather, Margot, Clare, Suse, Val, Michelle, Allison) make brief appearances or are mentioned, but their backstories aren't really needed here.

~~~~~

Business Sense

Chapter 1 - Manager

My job was something I could never have planned on.

If you'd asked me four years earlier what I'd be doing when I graduated, it wouldn't have been in the top ten. Or anywhere.

Four years earlier, my plan had been to learn about business in order to bolster a worthy non-profit - a women's shelter, a health advocacy group for the aging, an organization providing legal support for the underprivileged, or a similar endeavor. It wouldn't have been to enter the corporate world.

It wouldn't have been to manage a small entertainment enterprise.

Four years earlier, I had never heard of an axe-throwing bar.

To be fair, my plans hadn't changed greatly, except that I'd decided to get some business experience before returning to school to work on an MBA. Most programs recommended spending a couple of years in the real world before beginning. And the last four years had been tough enough that I wasn't ready to move straight to a master's.

I needed a job, whether or not I loathed the idea of working for a corporation.

So when my friend Clare mentioned that her aunt was looking for a back office person for a startup, I applied for the job. Even though the startup was an axe-throwing bar in a gentrified neighborhood.

Shelby, Claire's aunt and my boss, was an entrepreneur. Dark-skinned, in her upper thirties, she was slight, and considerably shorter than me at about five-two, but possessing an intimidating glare that I tried hard to avoid.

Starting young, with family funding, Shelby had invested very successfully in real estate. Now she owned a number of commercial properties. Most of these were leased to commercial tenants, but recently she'd devised her own ventures.

Firebird Games

, her first operation, was a retro arcade bar. Shelby had no interest in video games, but she'd researched the market, the performance of similar businesses in other cities, their demographics compared with the local population, and the proximity of University housing, deciding it would be a profitable venture. She'd been correct.

When the store adjacent to

Firebird

had moved to larger premises (also owned by Shelby), the arcade's popularity had been growing, and rather than re-lease the unit, Shelby considered synergistic options. She had chosen to move the arcade partly into the new space, giving room for a contemporary mutli-player game area, then give the rest of the place over to a second venture,

The Axe's Head

, an axe-throwing bar.

She'd hired me, not for any experience with the business, of course, but to offload a lot of the planning, scheduling and publicity.

The Axe's Head

was still under construction, and would be for a couple of months. Liaising with the contractors was part of my job, though Shelby was supervising me closely. Once construction was complete, I'd have responsibility for staff management, marketing, resource procurement and allocation, supplier negotiation and day-to-day operation.

I would be responsible for choosing the beer that the bar would sell.

It sounded like a lot, and it was, but it was a small operation. Shelby would have overall responsibility. I'd cover as much as I could, and go to her for help. If I could make it work, the experience would be invaluable to pursuing an MBA, and I wouldn't have to submit to a corporate overlord (other than Shelby) to get it.

I would never want to

be

Shelby. My long-term goal was to support the victims of the system, not to be a part of it. But for a member of the exploiting class, Shelby was an excellent employer, paying well above minimum wage, not just for a novice like me, but for the bar staff and support people. I could respect her work ethic and her attitude, and, most importantly, I could learn from her business sense.

My office was a small room I shared with Shelby at the back of

Firebird

. After the construction was done, I'd have my own place in the back of the new bar. Until then we survived with the one cramped room, which served not only to manage both bars, but as Shelby's center of operations for her small empire.

I was comparing insurance quotes - who knew there were risks to flinging around sharpened pieces of metal that could bounce off their targets? - when Shelby interrupted me.

"Hey, Fi, you doing anything after six?"

Turning, I rolled my head to work out a crick in my neck. "Watching Netflix?" I replied.

"A friend of ours just broke up with her boyfriend," she said. "We're taking her out to cheer her up. You should join us. Maybe make a new friend." After a second, she added, "She's straight," as if the mention of the boyfriend hadn't made that clear. Shelby had known of my sexuality from the start, since my friendship with her niece was through Gabby's, a queer-friendly club popular with undergraduate lesbians, like Clare and I had both been until we graduated the previous month.

"Well, no one's perfect," I replied, "and I could use more friends. Even straight ones," I added, with a grin.

~~~~~

At home, I switched my tee for a black blouse with a silver chain, and my jeans for a black skirt and stockings, stepped into my high heeled black boots, then darkened my eyeshadow and lip gloss. My old Kia started on the third attempt, and I made my way to the casual restaurant to meet Shelby, her husband Daniel, and their friend.

I recognized Daniel immediately. I'd met him when I interviewed with Shelby. He was her business partner in real estate, and though he didn't have any involvement in her entertainment ventures, she still called on him to give her plans a sanity check. Black, like his wife, though his skin wasn't quite as dark as hers, he had neatly close-cropped hair, and an equally trim beard. Only a little taller than Shelby, his expression was less daunting than hers, but he seemed no less shrewd. He saw me and smiled a welcome as I headed toward their table.

Shelby's straight friend had a fresh-faced prettiness, with a small nose, freckles and barely any makeup. Her short blonde hair was streaked almost white in places, and her skin tanned, both features suggesting she spent a great deal of time outside. Her shoulders were broader than mine, and she may have been a couple of inches taller, though it was hard to tell, as she was sitting at a booth with Shelby and Daniel.

Blue eyes gave me a curious look as I slipped into the seat beside her. Shelby made introductions, and I gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Jenna," she said, though Shelby had just told me her name.

"Fiala," I returned, as Shelby had only introduced me as Fi. "Call me Fi. Rhymes with tea or tree. Or she or me, appropriately enough."

"Shelby said she hired you to run the axe bar?" Jenna suggested.

"I... think Shelby will run the place," I said. "I'm just there to ease the load."

Shelby shrugged. "Fi will have a free hand to run the place," she said, "as long as she does exactly what I tell her."

We all laughed at that.

The waitress showed up at that point, and I ordered myself a margarita. It would be my only alcoholic drink. I took out my ID and credit card, but Shelby told me to put the card away. Food and drink were on her.

There were few vegan options on the menu, but not zero. Usually at a random restaurant I was limited to a side salad, but at this place I could order an avocado tomato sandwich, and the fried mushrooms were okay if I didn't dip them in dressing. No buttermilk batter, which was a pleasant surprise.

After I'd ordered, Daniel interrogated Jenna about her breakup. I thought he was being tactless, but Jenna was unfazed. Clearly she was very comfortable with both of them.

"He was irritating," she said. "He wasn't abusive or controlling, but he liked to mansplain and talk over me."

"Ugh, I hate that," Shelby said.

"I know, right?" Jenna replied. "The straw that broke the camel's back was when he tried to mansplain azaleas. Telling me how you had to raise their beds and acidify the soil. At that point I excused myself and broke up with him by text. I didn't want him to mansplain the mechanics of breakups, and I feel no shame."

"Jesus," Shelby said, she and Daniel both laughing.

"Uh, why is mansplaining azaleas particularly evil?" I asked. "I mean, other than mansplaining in general being terrible?"

"I work in a garden center," Jenna said, grinning at me. "I'm not a trained horticulturist, but I probably know more about any garden plant than Mason ever did. I've been working with plants for six years now."

She didn't seem any older than me. "Straight out of high school?" I asked

"Yeah," she agreed, then eyed me suspiciously. "You're not one of those people who look down on anyone without a degree, are you?"

"Fuck, no," I said. Then glanced up guiltily at Shelby.

"Yeah. No fucking swearing around the fucking boss, okay?" she said, with a mock scowl, and we all cracked up again.

I nursed my margarita well into the meal, when I switched to iced tea. Daniel took a second beer, but remained sober while Jenna and Shelby were getting buzzed on long island iced tea and gin and tonic respectively. I found myself liking Jenna. She was totally unlike the college students I'd been surrounded by for the past four years, and also quite different from Shelby. I liked and respected my boss, but I would never want to be on the wrong side of her.

When the dinner was over, Shelby decided we were going to sneak into the new place to throw axes. I was dubious, since it was still under construction, but it was Shelby's place, after all.

"Can I give you a ride?" I asked Jenna. "You're not driving, I hope?"

"Fuck no," she said. "Sure. I have to ride in the back seat in Shelby's car."

"You can sit in the passenger seat, but I don't promise much comfort," I said, and led her out to the Kia, which behaved well this time, starting on the second attempt. Jenna glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged.

~~~~~

There was only one target, and it was propped up. Daniel checked that it was secure before we took turns throwing. I took a moment to watch a YouTube video on my phone, but it wasn't very helpful. My axe hit the board and clattered to the floor.

When Jenna moved up to throw, I found that I'd been right in my guess. She was about my height in flats, making her a couple of inches taller than me, and her throw was powerful. She was off center but the axe stuck firmly into the target.

Her next throw missed the target completely and took a bite out of the installed sheetrock. Shelby found that hilarious, though she was going to have to pay for the rework. Of course,

I

would be the one to explain the breakage to the construction crew.

We had no more mishaps, even though Shelby had me bring drinks from the

Firebird

bar. She and Jenna were giggling together. They were clearly very close. As well as very tipsy.

When it came time to leave, Daniel and I cleared around, then I took care of locking up before giving Daniel the keys for safekeeping.

I offered to take Jenna home. "Don't worry," I told Shelby, "her home, not mine."

~~~~~

"What did that mean?" Jenna asked as Daniel drove away. "Not your home?"

"Did Shelby warn you I'm gay?" I asked.

"Why would she need to warn me? I don't care," said Jenna.

"That's good, but that's all I meant," I said. "I didn't want her to think I was going to take advantage of your drunk state."

Jenna put a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face her as we reached my car. I felt a rush of panic, thinking I'd misread her, but her eyes as they skimmed over my body were full of amusement, not interest. "Try to, you mean." Then she opened the door and flopped down into the passenger seat.

"Point," I agreed, after moving to my side of the car. "I saw how you threw that axe."

Confusion flooded across Jenna's face. Maybe her drunk mind couldn't tell if I was praising her strength or mocking her coordination.

"I wouldn't take you home even if you were gay," I said. "Last time I went home with a drunk girl, things were awkward."

The Kia didn't start on the first attempt. Or the second. When it failed the fourth time, Jenna squirmed in her seat to retrieve her phone from a pocket. "Should I call Daniel to have him jump us?"

"I don't think Shelby would be okay with that," I said, "but you know her better than I do." Jenna looked confused again. "Don't worry, it will start," I assured her, hoping it was the truth.

Fortunately, the car started on the next attempt. "I'm hoping to funnel some of my new salary into a car payment," I said. "Soon."

The Kia always ran smoothly enough after it started. I asked Jenna for her address and headed in that direction. "You don't seem very upset about your breakup," I said. "Shelby thought you'd need cheering up."

Jenna snorted. "She always does," she said, slurring the words. "There was one..." She started counting on her fingers, but gave up. "A long time ago. I was dis... discon..." she scowled and tried again. "I was sad for days. So I think now she takes me out for a pre... preemptive party." She beamed at successfully negotiating the long word.

"So there have been a lot of these parties?" I asked.

"Fee... Feeola, are you asking if I'm a shlut?" she asked, sternly.

"No, I'm not," I said. "But you make it sound like Shelby makes a habit of taking you out for a preemptive party."

"She's my big sister," Jenna pronounced. "I've had a she... series of bad boyfriends, is all."

"I'm sorry to hear it," I said. "You deserve better."

She smiled at that. After a moment, she said, "Hey, Fi... Fi..."

She was clearly trying to avoid mangling my name again. "Fiala," I said, "but call me Fi. It's easier."

"Fiala," she said, determinedly. "Would you like to hang out sometime? I like you. I don't care that you're a lezh... lezh... bian. And I want to hear why taking a drunk girl home was awkward. You owe me that for calling me a shlut."

I laughed. "Sure. Text me." I gave her my number. She typed furiously on her phone for a moment, then I heard my phone buzz.

When we arrived at Jenna's house - a small place well outside town - I offered to come in to brew her a cup of coffee, but she declined, and walked in a reasonable approximation of a straight line to her door. I watched until she was inside, then remembered my phone. Jenna's message read "No taking advantage of your bosses little sister."

~~~~~

I texted Jenna from my desk the following morning, asking how her head was. She didn't get back to me for almost an hour.

Jenna: "I drank lots of water. Hangover not bad, work drove last of it away."

"Jenna says she survived her hangover,' I announced.

"Are you using your phone for personal business during work time?" Shelby asked, but her tone was amused. "Tell her we'll do it again when she dumps the next boyfriend. So you and she hit it off?"

"Yeah, she wants to hang out," I said, keying in Shelby's comment. "She doesn't have a problem with me being a lesbian. Though she does have a problem saying it when she's drunk."

Shelby snickered as my phone beeped. "Is she really your sister?" I asked. "You said friend yesterday."

She shook her head. "I was her babysitter before I left for college. We've always been close, but Daniel and I think of her as family more than a friend, so yeah."

I glanced down at my phone to see what she'd replied.

Jenna: "Tell her if that's her only reason for seeing me I'll have to find someone to dump."

I relayed the message, and Shelby snickered again.

~~~~~

Jenna invited me to a wine bar for a girls' night with her friends, assuring me that I wouldn't be called upon to be a designated driver. Which was good, because the Kia was giving me more trouble, so I took a Lyft, pleased that I could afford to take occasional luxuries like a shared ride.

Her friends were named Megan, Abby, Janet and Paige, but I immediately lost track of which was which. Much of the evening was spent gossiping about boyfriends and exes, and I didn't have a lot to contribute. I hadn't had a girlfriend since a three month period in sophomore year. When I made that comment one of the women seemed annoyed, and began to make occasional snide comments. The others seemed to take the fact that I was gay in stride, looking uncomfortable in turn at their friend's homophobia.

Jenna suggested that the two of us leave for a late night cafe that was a short walk away. She bought us each a coffee and a scone, mine being non-dairy.

"Sorry about Janet," she said, as we took a table. "I didn't know she'd be like that."

I shrugged. "It isn't the first time. You realize she's probably gossiping about you leaving with me, now?"

"I doubt it," Jenna said. "I'm sure the others slapped her down as soon as we left. They were getting annoyed with her."

"Yeah, I noticed that," I said. "Though none of them seem as relaxed around me as you are."

Jenna took a bite of her scone, washing it down with a sip of coffee. "I think it's just that they don't know you. Also, you didn't take advantage of me when I was drunk."

"Try to," I amended.

She grinned, her teeth white and even. "Right. And you still owe me the story of when you did take a drunk girl home."

Scowling, I said, "I hoped you were too drunk to remember that." Then I sighed. "Not much to tell.

She

took

me

home, but I'd been pushing. We'd... hooked up. I thought it meant something. I guess I thought if she could see how good we were together she'd want more. I was wrong."

"So when you said you hadn't had a girlfriend in three years, this wasn't her?" Jenna asked.

"I haven't had a

girlfriend

," I said. "I didn't say I've been celibate. I didn't think your friend would want to hear that much detail."

"Yeah, that was a good call," she said. "Still, for this girl to take you home and, I guess, sleep with you, before dumping you, that seems cold. I hope I've never treated a guy like that."

"No, I kinda knew I was in the wrong at the time," I said, staring into my coffee. "We're all pretty clear on how hookups are supposed to be no-strings. She wasn't the last girl I've been with, and I've never made the same mistake. We're okay, now. She invited me to her wedding."

"So these hookups are the norm?" Jenna asked, frowning. "Is this like a lesbian dating app?"

"It's just a club," I said. "In-person. It's good for hookups, and some girls find a new partner every time. It's mostly students. I haven't visited in months, and wasn't a very active participant when I did, but there've been a few." I looked up at Jenna and smirked. "Now ask me again if I think you're a slut."

Jenna chuckled, and possibly she blushed slightly. It wasn't easy to tell on her tanned face in the low lighting. "I was drunk. You weren't accusing me of anything."