I unzip and take a cube from the cup, slide it over my dick, and do my best to keep an eye out for Marcus.

The ice should help. Sometimes, after Sophia and I fuck, she finishes our play by running an ice cube along my cock. It’s calming, and she looks sexy as hell when she does it. Can hell be sexy? After all, it’s hot, fiery, red... yeah, hell must be sexy... there... think about hell and that will help too. With closed eyes I let the ice melt along my dick as it slowly shrinks to a somewhat normal size. Good enough to get my ass downstairs and show my face at the bar. Something I need to do more often, but I tend to be too busy or too fucked up to ever actually accomplish it on a regular basis.

Customers like to see and speak to the owner. It makes them feel appreciated. My mother and Sophia are great at socializing and have become the face for the business, while I usually lean against the back wall and try and look important.

The ice is melted and my pants are zipped. I lean forward and examine the scene before leaving my post. Haverty’s next to the bar with his sleeves rolled and his arms crossed. The employees love him and call him James, or sometimes Teddy because they think of him as a big teddy bear. The women hover around and ‘accidentally’ brush into him now and again.

The bartenders are busy, but still have time to put on a show by flipping bottles and glasses in the air, exaggerating their every move. I’ve told them not to do that shit. It makes them look like pussies, but they say they get better tips so I let it slide every so often. I guess if it’s okay that my wife and I fuck all the time during business hours, it’s okay for them to flip a bottle in the air.

The women we hire wear short black skirts and low-cut black tanks in the summer, and one-piece black dresses in the winter. The required lipstick is a dark red, like our wine, and they’re supposed to work the room once an hour, handing out free samples of The Dark Scarlett house wine to every guest. Once people sample it they usually buy a bottle. Yeah, it’s that good, and in the end, it’s the reason people come to our place.

We have two guys who work the door, Hollis being our main bouncer. He’s not the friendliest employee we have, but bouncers don’t need to be nice. As far as I’m concerned his job is to keep the asswipes out of my bar. There’re a lot of fake IDs showing up lately, not to mention people trying to get through the door who are clearly wasted. We don’t have to serve anyone who’s shitfaced and can barely stand. It’s bad for business when they cause a scene.

And again, I’m being hypocritical, because no one at this bar causes a scene more than my wife and me.

The chandeliers are on their lowest setting and the front window is tinted so the only light that enters the room comes from the front door. I text Hollis to pull the doorstop and keep it closed so the bar is in controlled darkness. The atmosphere for a lounge when people are drinking wine should be dim and relaxing, not ignited by the sun, and Hollis can check ID’s from inside tonight. Plus, I saw clouds rolling in from the West, and I bet we’ll have another round of rain before nightfall. Once the clouds block the strong sunshine, he can reopen the door.

Speaking of bright lights... my wife is the spark of life at every table. She smiles and touches the seated customers on their shoulders as she talks. It’s all a show, we all know she’s not that friendly, but she sure can fake being a princess. And our guests haven’t a clue as to what’s really on her mind. She’s probably thinking, what an asinine tat on that guy. Doesn’t he know women won’t find a miniature Yoda staring back at them sexy? Is that supposed to be attractive? I’d rather see a giant vagina on your forearm than a wrinkled, white-haired troll.

Yes, that’s exactly what she’s thinking as she smiles and travels around the room. In real life she’d be brutally honest with the guy about his ink, but at work she’s a photo negative of herself... a complete reversal in personality... except when speaking to our employees. She can be irritable around them, but most of the time it’s for good reason. She’s pointing her finger at Hollis and complaining about someone at this very minute. He nods and escorts a guy out. I look to Haverty who gives me the ‘ok’ sign with his fingers, so I know all is well. She usually does that when someone’s comments make her uncomfortable.

I continue watching my wife work the room. Her ass swings and she tilts her head when she speaks, listening to people with a pleasant expression on her face. Polite and dignified. I bet she also has little pieces of candy in her purse, a conventionally feminine quality. And that isn’t a joke, but something I actually need right now if I’m going to talk to a lot of people downstairs. I want to make sure my breath’s mint fresh.

Her purse still sits on the floor under my desk and sure enough, a pack of her usual Chowards Violet Chewing Gum is inside. Yup, feminine, not minty, but it will do.

I lock my office door on the way downstairs and notice that my mother has arrived, along with a few more employees. My father should be here for the final four hours, sending my mother home around ten.

The lounge area is now crammed with people and there’s not a table in sight that doesn’t have a second bottle of wine being consumed. That tells me it’s going to be another great season for our business; a constant flow of people drinking, socializing, and texting their friends to come out and join them. The Scarlett hasn’t been this packed since mating season was in full swing at the beginning of spring.

A few of the regulars are at their usual table and one raises his glass while the others call out my name. I shake their hands and then check that everything’s okay at the bar, sending Haverty to inspect the private rooms. We have three scheduled parties, including a meet and greet corporate mixer and a bridal shower. He usually keeps his eye on the back area while watching over the bar as well. With Hollis at the front and Soph and my mother on the floor with the other workers, our customers are settled, laughing, and spending money. And that’s what it’s all about. We’re more than happy to take their green. Drink away my little pretties... damn, I’m starting to go insane without any alcohol in my system. I was fine at dinner, but now a hundred people surround me with a drink in hand.

“You doing okay, buddy? Your eyes keep gazing at the bottles instead of at the customers.” Haverty brings me out of my daydream while pulling me away from the bar. “Maybe you should be in your office tonight instead of on the floor. There’s got to be some big boy paperwork waiting for you up there. We’re okay. It’s busy, but everything’s under control.”

“Since Sunday, I’ve only had a couple of swigs from my flask, and that was only because it was the night I lost my shit. This is the fourth day. My hands are a shaky mess,” I exhale and run my fingers through my hair. “I should’ve opened a restaurant and not a wine bar.”

“More than likely, you’d still be serving alcohol at a restaurant,” he says.

“Okay... then an art gallery.”

“You’d still be...”

“Hav, shut up.”

“Okay, come on.” With his hand on my back, he leads me to the stairwell and points. “Go!” he demands. “You need to work in your office for a few weeks until you get over your cravings. We’ve got this. Now go.”

“I’m going to talk to Sophia first... who the fuck’s our DJ tonight?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Haverty says with an eye on the speakers. “Didn’t know you liked The Raconteurs,” he laughs.

“Just tell whoever it is to stick with the playlist, or maybe you should go over there and put Nina back on, this heavier sound will drive people away.”

“I happen to like this heavier sound,” he starts to sing as he walks toward the DJ’s booth. I do too, but not during business hours.