Welcome to the new book! What are y'all's expectations?
It was the first working day after New Year and someone had already managed to mess up the entire bar.
How was this even possible?!
The place was small and cozy, a neighborhood bar if you will, tucked away on the outskirts of Berlin. The red bricks with white mortar on the outside wall didn't give it any justice. Neither did the reflective windows on the ground floor, which lined the wall, facing the street.
Ent's life and joy was the supporting foundation of a 4-story tall apartment building, filled with some of the city's finest emerging artists.
Ent prided himself on having indie professionals do all of the work in his bar. It was dimly lit and smelled of vanilla, which the candles on each table emitted. The walls were plastered with old posters, advertising bands that had at some point had played live in the bar.
It opened at 5 PM and closed at 5 AM but Ent was usually here during the day to set up and clean. He liked to tend the bar, which is why there were only 3 other bartenders.
Most often, he'd show up around 4 PM or stay a few extra hours after the bar closed. He liked the space behind the bar organized in a specific way, which everyone else was expected to adhere to.
This morning, like most, he found himself collecting multiple half-empty bottles of the same alcohol and putting them back where they belonged.
Of course, they'd need to open 4 bottles of Jägermeister because they never put them back on the shelf. I wouldn't be able to find them either.
The most surprising thing was that he hadn't hired anyone new in almost a year.
These people have the same problem every single night. I solve it for them every single morning. And they still make it difficult for themselves.
It was extremely irritating to do inventory when he had to calculate how much was left in each bottle in order to figure out if the math checks out.
He continued angering himself for the next hour or so, until the scheduled meeting with his accountant, during which they were supposed to go over the yearly profits and discuss strategies after having just filed taxes before the Christmas holiday.
Ent walked into his office, situated in the back corner of the property, through a door behind the bar. The brown leather couch squeaked under him as he crossed his feet on the cushion and placed the open laptop on his lap.
"Happy Slide!" Mark wished Ent, referring to the idea that one should slide easily into the new year. (Guten Rutsch!)
"Happy New Year," Ent replied. "How was your break?" (Ein gutes neues Jahr.)
"Good, spent it with Lana in Quedlinburg. It was magical, she loved it."
He continued describing the small town that was just north of the Harz Mountains. He went on and on about how preserved the historical architecture was and how one could "travel back to Medieval and Renessainse times".
It had been magical during Christmas, with its rambling, cobblestone streets meandering around countless red-roofed half-timber houses and ancient buildings. The thin blanket of snow had been creaking under their feet as they'd drunk their mulled wine and listened to the holiday music in the town's square.
"Anyway," Mark realized he'd been talking a while, "how did you spend the holiday?"
"Here." Ent didn't realize how sad that sounded, but his best friend didn't miss it. "It was packed all week! We had to start taking reservations."
"Sounds good for the profits," Mark laughed. "I was looking over the records this morning... It's not looking good."
"It's not ideal," Ent protested, "but it's working. We're in the green."
"Barely! You need to do something, you're spending too much."
"I won't sell lower quality alcohol because of your spreadsheets." Ent rolled his eyes so far back that they could've gotten stuck in his skull.
"Then raise prices! It's not sustainable for you to have a 10% profit on most items on the menu." He explained again as if he hadn't been saying the exact same thing for years now. "It's barely covering bills. You're one flood away from filing for bankruptcy."
"I'm not raising the prices either! This bar gives back to the community. I won't allow it to turn into another overpriced "luxury" place the rich occupy and start demanding they choose who can come into!" Ent had also been giving the same speech every time they started the topic.
"You're selling 1st class products for 3rd class prices."
"I'm selling the quality the community deserves for the prices they can afford!" Ent was really close to shutting the laptop. This conversation was not productive.
"It's not sustainable," was all his friend said. He understood Ent's passion and would go to the ends of the Earth to figure out a way to help.
"I'll find a way," Ent said more so to himself.
"Look into new suppliers. Or a bigger warehouse so you can order larger quantities for cheaper." He suggested before adding, "I need to go now. Gym at 3?"
"Yes."
The rest of the day went as expected, sitting in his office paralyzed in fear because so many people depended on him. He didn't know what way to find or even where to start.
Sometimes he wished he'd just accepted the straight-outta-uni job offer at the company, where Mark worked, instead of starting his own business. It'd been 4 years and things weren't improving. His profits were barely higher than the ones during the first year.
He'd funneled all of his savings into this place, on top of a loan he had refinanced twice.
If only he was rich. He could've used that money to make a difference, not to pay the Dutch government to destroy a historical bridge so his yacht could fit; or risking to leave a million people without water because he'd pay to use the natural resources for his electric car production.
This world was becoming a terrible place to be in and he wanted to be a beacon of calmness, where people could go to forget about inflation, crises, and the aftermath of end-stage capitalism in Germany and the rest of the world.
The 5 hours flew by extremely quickly and he found himself biking to the gym.
It was a private establishment in the center, where people had to be checked before they were allowed to become members. It made Ent sad to have been forced to use his connection to Mark to jump the queue, but it was the only solution that made sense.
Mark worked in the center and couldn't get to any gym in time for them to work out together after he was done with work and before Ent started.
He used his phone to check in and walked into the main training area, aiming for the locker room.
"Yo, Happy New Year," one of the workers wished him as he walked past the bar area.
"Thanks, you too," Ent replied to be polite. "Anything interesting?"
"Nah," he shrugged. "Have a nice one."
A nod later, he was getting changed before walking back out and finding a jump rope.
There was one of the new customers, running on the treadmill before him.
Kinky warm-brown curls were bouncing rhythmically, hitting her honey-colored shoulders. A matching bright magenta two-piece hugged her curves deliciously. The triangular cut-out on the racer-back of the bra showed off a big portion of her back, while a delicate ruching detail on the leggings cupped her buttcheeks.
Yet another 'New Year, New Me' primadonna.
To be fair, she looked extremely similar to the ex he dated in university, who cheated on him for months before telling him and blaming him for being "too needy" in bed.
No more 'needy' here.
He rarely slept with others now. He never seemed to find someone as broken as him.
The women who threw themselves at him weren't his type. And the ones who were, needed some emotional connection in order to trust him. He wasn't the emotionally connected type.
He shook the thought away, dissociating while jumping as usual. Otherwise, 10 minutes were too long.
But this time he couldn't help but keep glancing over as she lowered her speed to a strut and increased the incline.
The round of her ass kept getting perfectly outlined with every step.
It's late, where the fuck is Mark?!
The timer dinged in his ear and he turned it off but continued hopping. Not because the boxing rinks were on the other side of a wall. (/s)
He noticed in the corner of his eye as she lowered the incline until the belt was parallel to the floor, before increasing the speed and running as if someone was chasing her.
Show-off.
She kept it up for what looked like forever. He felt himself out of breath and let the rope fall to the floor, but she continued.
Anyone, who runs like this, has problems they're trying to escape.
Ent would definitely know.
"Sorry, I'm late, got held up in a meeting," Mark explained as he walked up to his friend.
Ent grunted in response, still trying to catch his breath.
"Who is she?"
"Who?" Ent absolutely didn't, never in a million years, know who the shorter man was talking about. (/s)
"The one you've been staring at since I arrived?" Mark laughed as he eyed his friend.
"How would I know?" Ent scoffed.
"I haven't seen her here before."
"Neither have I," he agreed before adding. "C'mon, let me beat your ass."
"You know, they say shorter people are closer to hell," he joked as he walked behind Ent. "I'm small but feisty. Evil, if you will."
"So I can keep trying to beat the evil out of you?"
"Keep the bruises off my face," Mark laughed as he shook his head.
Ent relished in his ability to completely disconnect from the outside world and let his muscle memory lead the way while they sparred. And sparred, they did. For what felt like hours.
It didn't usually feel this long, he actually enjoyed it quite a bit, but the mere amount of willpower it took for him to actively ignore his subconscious whenever a pair of magenta leggings flashed before his eyes, was tiring him out.
And the more difficult it got to ignore, the more aggressive he became until a time-out was called with a grunt.
"Hell, Ent," he panted, "what the fuck?!"
"Not so small and feisty now, are you?" He plastered a smirk over his face to hopefully hide his lack of self-control.
"The fuck did you get that stamina from?! I'm dying over here," he gasped again as he took off his gloves one at a time.
"What, are we done?" Ent eyed him with slight disappointment.
"Hell yeah, we're done. I need to get home alive." He walked over to the windowsill next to them to grab both of their water bottles. "Let's go, I'm giving you a lift."
Walking out of the back, Ent found himself secretly glancing around the floor, before spotting her on the phone next to the water dispenser. She looked angry.
Hot.
No, shut the fuck up.
After they grabbed their bags from the changing room, they walked out, aiming for Mark's car, who was walking a few steps behind Ent.
"Nice workout?" He heard Mark ask someone and stopped, turning around. It was her, for fuck's sake. Of course it was.
"Mhm," she nodded as she detached the bottle from her lips, a drop falling onto her shirt, leaving a dark spot. "Great, actually."
"Good to hear," Ent could hear the smile on Mark's face as he spoke. "So I'll see you around, then."
"You probably will," she briefly looked over at Ent before returning her attention to his friend.
Jesus, what an inflated ego.
"Bye," Mark finally started walking again.
"Until next time," she smiled as she lifted the still-open bottle back to her lips.
Jesus fucking Christ.
What the fuck's wrong with me?!
A/N: First thoughts?
(/s) is a tone indicator, which shows sarcasm; I'll try to add them but don't blame me if I forget.