First Choice ✓

Chapter 2. T

Antonio

🥃🥃🥃

"I'll have you sign the NDA next time you're here." I tell the girl sitting in front of me in my office. This is her second interview.

I've been having interviews the entire day, trying to find the best servers for the VIP section that will hopefully open next Friday. But with the pace these interviews are going I think It'll be a week later. Most people think that there will only be celebrities coming by. That's only half the truth. There will be all kinds of people coming here. Politicians, defense attorneys, directors or even other club owners. Some only applied so they can catch a selfie or autograph from a celebrity. I only want people who are serious about this job to be hired. They need to understand the risks and how important it is to do their—potential future—jobs well and without disturbing the visitors.

"NDA?" Why does she look nervous all of a sudden?

"Yes. I know you read the job description and I already mentioned this before. Is there a problem?"

"No. No, no. I . . ." she shakes her head. "Never mind."

"If you have a question, better ask it now." I give her a stern look.

I know I'll have to be stricter with this new batch of waiters. I can't have A-list people unsatisfied when they leave my club and not come back again. Also probably give my club a bad review on Yelp or other platforms.

"Umm, I was just wondering . . . you know how rich people behave. Like, they want everything even if it isn't possible." I nod. I totally understand, having had my fair share of encounters with them.

"Just come straight to me if you don't know what to do. Or if you feel uncomfortable around someone. I will say more when training begins next week."

She nods and stands up. I give her hand a shake, and she disappears behind the door of my dull office. Usually, I do most of my work at the bar; I like to see my club when I'm working. But I thought it'd be better to have the job interviews here. There is only a desk, two chairs and a shelf filled with papers.

Finally, after a day filled with interviewing candidates, I officially have—thank God—enough hostesses so I can still open the VIP section next Friday. I have one week to train them and get the gist of what to expect. My cousins and close friends almost always sit in the VIP room when they're here, so my new employees will be able to practice on them for the next week before the official opening.

Jack comes in an hour and a half early, as always. He was beyond happy when I made him head bartender. It was damn time, to be honest. I don't know why I didn't make this decision sooner.

"Hey, T."

They all call me T. Short for Tonio, or Tony. I like it. Makes me feel like we're close enough that we have nicknames for each other.

"Jack, my man." We fist bump, then he walks in the stockroom's direction, probably about to check the inventory. He is already wearing his uniform; black pants and black dress shirt. Silk. Just like Isabella suggested. More like forced me to, actually. He was excited when I gave him the promotion and asked me if he could wear a tie or bow tie so people would identify him as the head bartender. Of course I said yes. He's become a close friend of mine in the last couple of years that he's worked for me, and he's not just an employee anymore.

"Oh, by the way." He turns back to face me, "I actually already did the inventory. Do you mind filling the condiments for the VIP?"

"You got it, boss." I had time on my hand and did a few extra chores to help lighten everyone's load. If I sat in my condo and did nothing, I would have gone crazy. I really hope Isabella's friend comes with her tonight.