Under The Black Cherry

CHAPTER 2 - Red and puffy eyes

"If you don't mind, buddy, I asked the specific Tennessee whiskey. I'm afraid you've mistaken it for the regular", says the man sitting in front of him.

Thomas finally turns his head away from the gal dressed maybe too daring this night, and looks astounded at the two clients in front of him. He forgot to mention that they're out of that kind of a beverage, tho 'twas the best seller in The Endeavour. He reminded Peter Morris to replenish the stock about five times, but the man did not seem to care that much 'bout this problem. Of course, Thomas should've paid more attention and tell the clients they only have one assortment, more precisely, bourbon. Probably bored and most certainly uninterested, seeing himself in liquidation threshold, the boy didn't even realize the mistake he's made. In addition, generally, when a beverage assortment's missing, the clients get to the point of asking for what's left on stock, anyway. Sooo...

However, the present ones, well, they don't seem that compliant to this choice. Thomas eventually apologizes clumsily and tells the ones in front of him The Endeavour's in liquidation threshold anyway, the pub's using the last remains of its stock, and blah, blah, the whole story.

"Ok, and now I am supposed to drink this wish-wash, this piss?" adds the man obviously irritated, probably noticing the bourbon bottle's label from the beginning, a pretty cheap brand.

The ordinary clients never seemed pissed the pub has twopenny 'n low quality drinks, cause the prices were lower as well. So the quality-price ratio was accordingly. The only beverfes Mr. Morris buys from the somewhat appreciated brands were the imperial pint beer and the Tennessee whiskey. Thomas somehow had a feeling that if he's not gonna keep his calm, the situation with this unknown, refractory client, will degenerate, so he feels forced to rapidly fix the problem.

"It's alright, buddy, this ones' from the house then. You don't have to pay for it, you don't even have to drink it if that's your choice", says the bartender while friendly smiling, fake friendly, giving his money back. "Is that okay?"

But before the about twenty-five year old guy gets to answer, Peter Morris opens the pub's door, entering with six Tennessee whiskey bottles he can barely hold in his hands. Thomas notices him immediately.

"Or wait a second", says the boy, "we might have solved the problem."

He quickly gets to his boss, giving him a hand.

"Here you've got these bottle, alright? It is not my intention to buy another ones. One bottle per day, got it? Tonight you can sell two, cause... you know, it's Saturday and it's the most crowded evening.

Thomas nods approvingly, whilst noticing Morris changed the brand. He got one of those not more than mediocre, second-rate beverage brand. He transiently thinks now about his frustrated client that will certainly not like the new "piss". At least he'll be able to offer him what he ordered from the first time. He takes two clean glasses, and puts the rest of them in the sink, slightly regreting the waste.

"Enjoy!"

The man hands him a one-hundred dollar bill and says:

"Can you give me the entire bottle actually? I presume these bucks are sufficient enough, I mean, let's be honest, we can both see there's no such thing as a Jack Daniel's or whatever other decent brand in my glass", concludes the man in a sardonically smiling.

Thomas realizes that a hundred dollar bill for a bottle like that probably means at least 200% profit. But since Morris didn't think about putting a price tag on the bottle, and the client sitting in front of him is such an impertinent, he doesn't even think to sell the bottle at the old price, so he takes the money, puts them in the cash register's drawer and adds obviously angry: