2. Good news travels fast #2
“But you own a third of this bar. You should be making a decent living. The mark-up on alcohol is extremely lucrative.”
Instead of responding, he began cleaning up, which she watched with a frown. “You work a full shift, then clean up by yourself?” she asked.
“Not always, but a lot of times, yeah.”
“Why?”
“I send staff home when I can to save on payroll. ”
She knew he had to be exhausted, and so instead of leaving and going home, she began helping him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Helping you. I know how to wipe down tables.”
As they worked, she asked a few more questions, before asking who did all the accounting for the bar.
“Everett does,” Evan answered.
“Do you ever look at the books?”
“No. One, I don’t have the time, and two, Everett would probably tell me to piss off.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s like that. As the oldest sibling, he wears the crown, so to speak.”
“Hmm.” Jules was beginning to think Everett was a bit of a controlling douche, but kept that to herself for the time being. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s your annual salary, before taxes?”
He didn’t even blink at the personal question. “Thirty-six grand, give or take.”
She stared at him. “Are you kidding?”
“I wish I was.”
“So, after taxes, your annual salary is around …” she trailed off to do a little math in her head. Assuming he was in the 12% tax bracket, his taxes would be $4,320.00, making his annual salary … “$31,500.00?”
“That sounds about right.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“What are Everett’s and Evelyn’s annual salaries, before taxes?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never asked.”
“Why not?”
“I just … haven’t. I know they make more than I do, but that’s because when we took over the bar and did all the upgrades and renovations, they had more money to put into the business than I did, so my pay reflects that.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
This time he stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her. “Sure.”
“How long has this been going on? Living just above poverty level?”
“Um … seven years? ”
Her eyes widened. “Seven years ?”
He appeared to be thinking about it again. “Yeah, seven years, give or take a few months.”
“Have you had any raises during that time?”
“No, but I get a Christmas bonus every year.”
“How much is this bonus?”
“The last one was five hundred dollars.”
Jules almost didn’t know what to say to that, because the way Evan said it, indicated he thought that was a decent bonus.
Hell, maybe it was compared to previous bonuses?
“How many hours do you work a week, on average?” she asked, changing the subject slightly, and praying the answer was no more than forty—
“Fifty, maybe sixty. I rarely pay attention anymore, to be honest.”
“No overtime?” She figured it was a long shot but had to ask.
He blinked at her before shaking his head. “I’m a salaried employee, so … I only get paid for forty hours a week.”
Jules felt like shaking him, then tracking down his brother and sister and shaking them, too.
There was something seriously wrong going on here and she needed to find out what it was.
She gave Evan a calculating look, then just dove in because there was no time to waste.
“Would you be willing to let me look over the bar’s books? ”
Evan stopped wiping down a table to stare at her. “Why would you want to do that?” he asked, shocked at the request.
“Because it’s my job.”
He blinked slowly, as a wispy remnant of a memory surfaced from the night they met, when she’d given him her business card for the now-discontinued monthly drawing for a free drink.
“Your business card …” he trailed off as he vaguely remembered reading she was a self-employed accountant of some sort. “Holy shit … you’re an accountant.”
“Yes, I am,” she confirmed, amused by his struggle.
His brows drew together, at the thought of this hot woman crunching numbers, then gave a shake of his head. “No offense, but I’m having a hard time picturing you at a desk, doing ... accounting things.”
“Because I don’t seem smart enough?” she teased, overlooking the ‘things’ reference.
“No, because accounting seems … boring.”
“To most people it is. But I love it because numbers are honest. They don’t lie.”
“Like boobs? ”
She chuckled. “Yes, just like boobs.”
“So, what do you do, exactly?”
“I’m a managerial accountant, with a specialty in cost accounting.”
“English, please.”
“It’s basically the focus on the cost structure of a business. There are three basic elements: materials, labor, and overhead. Are you familiar with these?”
“Why don’t you pretend like I’m not?”
Her mouth lifted up at the corners. “All right. So, materials can be categorized as either direct or indirect. The difference is that direct materials are used in the finished product, like ingredients in the meals served in a restaurant, while indirect materials are used in the production, like the cooking utensils used to prepare the meals. Make sense?”
“Sure.”
“Labor is the cost associated with producing a product or service, like waitstaff, cooks, bartenders, janitors. You’re obviously familiar with that part.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Overhead costs are the ongoing business expenses not directly associated with the creation of products or providing a service. This includes rent, utilities, supplies, equipment repair, and even things like office staff wages. Still with me?”
Evan cleared his throat, momentarily sidetracked by how much of a turn-on it was to hear her talk about materials, labor and overhead costs in that smoky drawl of hers. The juxtaposition was oddly erotic. “Still with you.”
“As a cost accountant, my job is to basically track the spending of a company across these three areas, then put that information into a report. I can then use this report to develop a budget, identify any opportunities to cut costs or waste, and keep track of the overall financial health of the company so it can earn higher profits and expand, if that’s one of the company’s goals.
“So, if I could get a look at your books, at the very least, I can maybe point out some areas for improvement, or whatever. I’ve done the books for a few bars, and they make pretty good money. There has to be a reason—or reasons—why Three Amigos isn’t.”
He slowly returned to wiping down the table, shaking his head. “I don’t know if Everett will go for that.”
She walked over, stopping a few feet away. “I could do it on the down low. You’d have to hire me for a small retainer … say, like a hundred dollars. And if I don’t find anything, then he doesn’t have to know, and I’ll even return the retainer. ”
She was a little surprised at how much she wanted to do this.
It bothered her to see him practically killing himself, and she knew she could find a way to fix it, even if it meant doing it for free.
“But if I do find something … then you can tell him, and I can go over what I’ve found. It’s your bar, too.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I doubt I’d even be able to get you our financial stuff without him knowing.”
“You wouldn’t have to. I could come in when you’re working, maybe late at night, so there’s very little chance of your brother or sister seeing me.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “So, what do you say?”
He really didn’t have anything to lose. Plus, he’d get to see more of her, so that was actually a win.
“All right,” he agreed, going behind the bar to retrieve his wallet. After counting out a hundred dollars (mostly from his tips), he returned to her and handed it over, slightly embarrassed at all the small denominational bills. “When do you want to start?”
“How about right now?”