Read Online Last Call by M.S. Brannon - Free Book Online

my phone and dial his number. The phone rings twice before his snarky voice is on the other line.
    “Hi, Mr. Weber, this is Mariah Huxley. My son got sick this morning, and I won’t be able to make it into work.”
    I can hear him clear his throat on the other end. “Well, Mariah, that will make it your seventh unexcused absence in the last nine months.”
    “Yeah, I know. But I don’t have anyone else to take care of my kid when he’s sick. We had a rough winter with his asthma, but you already know that. I just wanted to let you know I can’t come in today.” I walk to the table and sit. I’ve got a horrible feeling in my gut. However, I try my best to give Mr. Weber the benefit of the doubt.
    “Well, company policy states the seventh unexcused absence within a calendar year is grounds for termination. I will have to talk with HR to see if you’re able to keep your job. I do recall having a conversation with you about this a few months ago.” I can envision his smug face, and I mentally punch him as I listen to him scolding me. “We have to see what they say. They may request I re-staff your position.” His breathing sounds Darth Vader-ish when he’s speaking through the phone. “I will call you this afternoon and let you know what they say.” The phone goes quiet and my gut aches with worry.
    I can’t afford to lose my job, especially not this one. The benefits are good and the pay is decent. Dammit! This is going to be the longest afternoon of my life.
     
     
     
    J ason
    I walk from the upstairs conference room located beside my office at Toxic. I’m exhausted from the marathon of meetings with my staff. The New York City club is finally up and running, but it seems to be a huge pain in the ass. The hired contractors who installed the sound system did a shitty job, which causes more headaches for me. I’ve been on the phone with their office, giving the owner a huge piece of my mind. Plus, the business next door to my LA nightclub had a fire, and now there’s fucking water damage to it. It’s been a shitty day. Actually, the last good day I’ve had was when I fucked Mariah, the goddess of my dreams, and that was six days ago.
    We didn’t get last names or exchange numbers. She simply got dressed, kissed my cheek, and then walked out. I haven’t heard or seen her since. The vision of her leaving is now the star of my dreams. Not that I’m missing her; she was just the best fucking lay I’ve ever had. That’s exactly what I am missing in my life—a good fuck. 
    I hand over the paperwork to Kurt, senior property manager, and close my office door. I have a corporate office where most of my meetings take place and where all the staff works, but mostly, I stick to the office located at Toxic. I can think clearly here. I’m left to my own and it’s so much easier to concentrate. I’m not bothered for the most part. Meetings like today, between the various property managers, my PA, and myself, are held in the Toxic office.
    I tend to get a little worked up and sometimes have a hard time controlling my anger. Today was no different with two of my huge money making clubs needing some sort of repair, which costs me business and money. That combination is enough to send me into a rage.
    I dismiss the others and move to my mini bar, pulling the bottle of Jameson from the back shelf. There’s barely anything left, so I pull the bottle to my lips and chug the small sip down. My body is tense. The stress of the week and the lack of sleep have taken their toll on me, and I need to relax. I could grab a fresh bottle from the back storage room, but I need to get out of here. I’m feeling suffocated. It’s time for me to get some fresh air.
    Grabbing my keys from the desk, I walk the four blocks to my favorite bar, Smitty’s. Well, my other favorite bar. Toxic will always be number one. Smitty’s is a small, hole-in-the-wall type of bar, filled with men who are on the brink of retiring. Men who’ve