Club Jack (EBOOK)

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“We don't open until two.”
Upton had been waiting outside Club Jack for Michael’s arrival and was rattled by Michael's opening statement. He’d been hoping for a better start. There was no recognition in the other man’s gaze. 

“Uh… I’m Upton Biggar.” He paused, then added, “From Tiffen, Griffin, and Belcher Accountants and Consultants. I’m here to prepare your year-end financials.”

Michael stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then nodded. “Right, right, I was expecting you.” He eyed Upton closely, a spark of interest in his gaze. “But you don’t look like who I was expecting. The guy last year was frumpy, boring and disapproving. Biggar, eh? Good name. Come on in.”

A spark of pleasure erased Upton’s disappointment over Michael not remembering him. Not that he really believed Michael would recognize him after their brief meeting at the bank eight years ago. Michael hadn’t noticed him at the Club’s opening night either or any night since. 

Michael was gay royalty in Vancouver, larger than life with a massive following of adoring fans while Upton was nobody. 
Michael unlocked the door, turned off the alarm and waved Upton inside, disappearing into the darkness.
Lights began to brighten the club one section at a time and Upton had to blink until his eyes adjusted. 

“So you drew the short straw this year?” Michael’s voice floated to him from somewhere at the back of the room. 

Upton cleared his throat. “Uh, no, I… it’s no problem. I like new experiences.”

Michael approached with a raised eyebrow. “The guy last year didn’t like new experiences.”

Upton nodded sympathetically, remembering the scene in his office when Club Jack came up on their roster. None of the other associates at the firm had wanted to attend to the club’s account, but Upton had jumped at the chance. 

Michael headed to the DJ station and disappeared from view for a few seconds. He reappeared, pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened an app. Seconds later, Tove Lo’s “Moments” began playing on the club’s sound system, low enough they could still hear each other. 

“I need a coffee,” Michael stated, flipping his signature dreadlocks over his shoulder and striding around the bar. “Want one? Don't worry I’ve got good stuff, not the swill Avery serves the customers.” 

Upton’s lips curved upward. “Yes, please, I’d like a coffee.”
He slid onto a bar stool while Michael set about preparing the coffee machine.
Michael ground the coffee beans, filling the club with the delicious aroma, topped up the water and added the grounds to the coffee machine. He set two cups on the bar, some sugar and a carton of cream. When it was ready, Michael poured out the coffee, setting one in front of Upton.

“Okay, I know you’re on the clock,” Michael announced, after taking a long sip of coffee. “Grab your cup and we’ll head back to the office.”