Chapter 2
Corvus King
The weight of the paperwork was crushing like I was swimming through a sea of ink and red tape. Sitting alone in my dimly lit office at the back of the bar, I sifted through the seemingly endless stack on my desk. Bills, invoices, payment reminders – all the shit that comes with running a business.
”Fuckin” bureaucracy,” I muttered under my breath, my jaw clenched and temples throbbing. The room felt as if it were closing in on me, suffocating me with every turned page. I just wanted to get back out there, feel the rumble of my bike beneath me and the wind whipping past my face. No more goddamn paperwork.
”Knock, knock,” came Amanda”s voice from the other side of the door, jarring me from my bitter thoughts.
”Come in.” I sighed heavily, rubbing my eyes and leaning back in my chair. As much as I appreciated Amanda”s help keeping this place running smoothly, sometimes her presence only added to the frustration of being cooped up in here.
”Hey, VP,” she said, poking her head into the room. ”Got a minute?”
”Does it look like I have a fuckin” minute?” I snapped, glaring at the mountain of papers before me. But she just smiled, unfazed by my temper. After working together for so long, she knew how to handle me.
”Fine, fine,” she acquiesced, holding up her hands in mock surrender. ”I”ll make it quick.”
”Alright,” I grumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose. ”What is it?”
”Seems we”ve got a potential new hire. She filled out the resume form just now,” Amanda explained, waving a piece of paper in the air.
”Great,” I muttered sarcastically. ”More fuckin” paperwork.”
With a mischievous glint in her eyes as she handed me the resume. I snatched it from her, irritation gnawing at me like a hungry dog.
”Who”s this?” I asked, scanning the paper with half-hearted interest.
”As I said, a girl came in looking for work,” Amanda replied, tapping her foot impatiently. ”The place could use some fresh blood.”
I glanced over the resume, taking in the name - Tempest Miller. The name was intriguing, but I didn”t have time to dwell on it. I shoved the paper back onto the chaotic mess that was my desk, frustration roiling in my gut.
”Fine,” I grunted, rubbing a hand over my face. ”I”ll deal with it later.”
Amanda crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at me. ”You know we need the help around here, right? I can”t do it all myself.”
I huffed, my patience wearing thin. Did she think I didn”t know that? ”Yeah, I get it.”
”Besides,” she added, a sly grin on her face, ”She was hot as fuck, and would suit this bar well.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the sudden interest that statement piqued. The last thing I needed was another distraction. But damn it, Amanda knew how to push my buttons.
”Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. ”I”ll take a look at it later.”
”Good,” she replied, smirking triumphantly before turning on her heel and leaving me alone in my office.
As the door closed behind her, I stared at the pile of papers strewn across my desk, feeling the weight of responsibility bearing down on me like a ton of bricks.
With each signature and stamp of approval, I felt my irritation grow. The endless bureaucracy was suffocating me, but it was a necessary evil. Once I”d finally finished, I shoved the papers aside with a grunt, making way for the real business.
My laptop hummed to life as I pulled up the security camera footage, rewinding back to the time when the girl had dropped off her resume. She wanted to work here? In our gritty domain of booze, bikes, and blood? A corner of my mouth quirked upward. We”ll see about that.
”Tempest fucking Miller,” I muttered, scanning the grainy footage.
The grainy video flickered before me, showing the dimly lit interior of the bar. I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming rhythmically on the desk as I watched the girl enter. She was a vision of youth and determination, walking with an air of confidence that caught my attention.
”Let”s see what you”re made of,” I whispered, eyes glued to the screen as she approached Amanda. They exchanged words, and then the girl filled out the form that Amanda gave her.
”Could be a fresh face for the place,” I mused, though the shitty angle of the camera and the low-quality footage didn”t give me much to work with. I couldn”t help but imagine her potential, how she might fit into our world of leather jackets, roaring engines, and unspoken rules.
”Tempest Miller,” I read out loud from the resume, the name rolling off my tongue like a storm brewing on the horizon.
”Alright, Tempest,” I said under my breath, a smirk playing on my lips. ”Let”s see if you can weather the storm that is us.”
As I studied the details on the resume, my thoughts wandered to the crew and the challenges we faced. It wasn”t just about finding someone who could handle the gritty nature of our business – it was about finding someone who understood loyalty and the importance of keeping secrets. This was a biker-owned and run bar after all.
I picked up my mobile, the weight of it heavier than usual in my hand.
”Fuck it,” I muttered, dialling the number on the resume.
”Hello?” A soft voice answered.
”Tempest Miller?” My tone was cold, unwelcoming. No room for weakness in our world.
”Y-yes, this is her.”
”Corvus here,” I said, pausing to gauge her reaction. ”We got your resume.”
”O-oh! Hi, Corvus. Thank you for calling,” she stammered, trying to sound professional despite her nerves.
”Interview. Three days from now, Monday?” I didn”t bother with pleasantries. ”Four o”clock sharp. Don”t be late.”
”Y-yes, of course!” Her enthusiasm seeped through the phone, making me question what kind of storm she truly was.
”See you then.” I hung up, no goodbye needed. ”Sink or fuckin” swim.”