then put the rest on his. “I remodeled Blue’s. You shoulda seen it before—it was a dump.”
“You did a great job. I loved the décor and the layout of the bar. Whitney mentioned it’d been recently redone.”
“It turned out pretty good,” he said as he picked up his pint. “And thanks for ordering me another beer.” Smokey took a large gulp and then finished up his meal.
“Would you like some dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared their plates.
Ashley shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“I’m good,” Smokey said.
“Anything more to drink?”
“Nothing for me—I have to drive,” she said while Smokey shook his head no.
“I’ll be right back with the check,” the server said before scurrying away.
Ashley lifted up her briefcase and zipped it open. “I want to show you what I came up with.” She took out a large manila folder with a multitude of colored tabs sticking out from the side of it.
“I gotta admit, I’m not really into this right now,” Smokey said, then quickly added, “but let’s give it a shot” when he saw her crestfallen face.
“Okay.” She opened the folder, took out several pages, and handed them to him. Some had graphs on them and others had large circles in different colors. “These are the projections for the first campaign. As I said, I’ve worked up several, but to be successful, we’ll have to launch at least three over a three- to-four-month period.”
Smokey looked at the sheet with the graphs. “This is the projection for the first few months?”
“Yes, and the second page is for the next eight months.”
He was looking at the next page when his phone rang. Glancing down at the screen, Klutch’s name flashed across it. He held up his finger to Ashley. “Hang on, I gotta take this.”
He brought the phone to his ear and turned sideways in his chair.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I don’t mean to bother you on your date—”
Smokey cupped his hand over his mouth. “I’m not on a fuckin’ date.”
“Whatever,” Klutch said. “We got a problem over here. Your brother came by, and he’s drunk as shit and bothering all the club girls. We said he could pick one to fuck, but it seems he only wants to flash them and cuss them out. I’m trying to keep the peace, but Tank and Bones are ready to kick him in the balls, and Hawk’s one step from beating the shit outta him.”
“Why the fuck’s Ryan even there?”
“Said he was looking for you.”
“Put the bastard on the phone,” Smokey said as he stood up. He looked at Ashley. “I gotta take this outside. I’ll be right back.”
A few seconds later Smokey was in the lot, smoking a joint as he waited for his brother to come to the phone.
“Hey, dude.” Ryan’s slurred voice grated his nerves.
“What the fuck are you doing at the clubhouse?” he asked his brother.
“Looking for you.”
“Why?”
“I got in some trouble. I don’t wanna go to jail.” Ryan’s voice hitched.
“What did you do?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it. When are you coming here?”
“I’ll be there in a bit. Go to my room and stay there. You’re pissing everyone off, and I can’t protect you.”
“I’m not doing shit!” Anger punctuated his words.
“Okay, settle the fuck down and just wait in my room. The club girls are busy with the members. Go to my room. Now.”
“I’m going now. I don’t wanna go to jail.” A sob filled Smokey’s ears.
“Wait ’til I get there. I’ll sort it out for you. Are you in my room?”
“Uh-huh. Do you got any whiskey? They cut me off—the fucking bikers cut me off.”
Smokey’s blood ran cold. “Don’t be sayin’ shit like that unless you want a stomping. Disrespecting a brother isn’t allowed. I can’t help you if you talk smack, so just wait for me. Turn on the fuckin’ TV, but don’t leave the room.”
“Okay,” Ryan slurred. “I’m just gonna lie down and wait for you.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Smokey slid the phone into his pocket and hurried back into the restaurant.
“Is everything okay?” Ashley asked.
“Actually, no. I gotta go. We’ll do this another time.” He picked up the check, then pulled out his wallet and threw down some Ben Franklins.
Ashley narrowed her eyes. “Are you bullshitting me?”
“No. Something’s come up with my brother. I’ll check my schedule and see if we can meet in my office tomorrow. If not, then the day after.”
“Is it something bad?” she asked as she opened her purse.
“No—it’s more of a pain in my ass. What’re you doing?” He