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I swiveled around to look at the party board. A four-month dry-erase board calendar was hanging on the back wall of the office at O’Kelly’s. Upcoming parties were listed on the appropriate date, along with total budget and the times of the event. Managers used the board to request days off and listed any events or conventions happening in the area.
The board was used as a quick reference for scheduling. A Cubs game versus the St. Louis Cardinals would double the pub's business for the weekend. Even a small convention in town could affect the normal flow of traffic through the restaurant, but something as large as the Air and Water show could quadruple it, so scheduling was always important.
I skimmed the board, focusing on the private events for the last period. The pub had hosted a retirement party, a law firm party and a Bat Mitzvah. I tried to do a quick total of the party revenue in my head, but my mind kept wandering back to last night.
“Your mind still working the problem?” Gray asked. I smiled at him because he knew my moods so well. I shifted into third gear, speeding up to the on ramp to merge onto the Dan Ryan and back to Chicago. I loved having my car back.
“Yes. It’s just the writer in me. I want there to be a story, but we both know it’s going to be a simple answer.” I put away thoughts of the Profit and Loss statement. In truth, I was only using it as a distraction to keep my thoughts off Gray. We were both in my car. Alone. And heading back to Illinois. Neither of us had broached the subject of us, or of the incident, even though it must have been on both of our hearts. For me, it was fear of hearing him say it was officially over. I wanted our time together to last as long as possible.
“Not yet, Regan. Just, not yet.” Yes, he definitely knew my moods and thoughts well. You would think the car ride would’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t. I didn’t feel compelled to talk. I felt comfortable with him. There was something in the air, though. Electricity. A charge shooting between us. I wanted to reach over, to touch my fingertip to his shoulder to see if a spark would jump between us.
Those were the only words spoken for the whole drive. Gray rode with me all the way to Peter’s before walking away. I touched my cheek where he kissed me goodbye, trying to hold onto the feeling. I latched onto his words. Not yet. Not yet signified that something would happen. I could work with that. I still didn’t even know why he was at my parents’ house. Or how or when he got back into the States. I had a million questions for him, but couldn’t ask them. Yet. I was trying to follow his lead.
I brought myself back to the present and got out a calculator since my brain was not up to speed. The three parties came to a grand total of seventy-eight thousand dollars. By O’Kelly’s standards, that was a great month of private events on top of daily sales. But, where was the rest of the money? Where did it come from?
Someone knocked on the door before pushing it open. I had it propped open with the garbage can for some airflow. The office could become stifling with the door left closed.
"Regan, there is a call on line one about a credit card overcharge. Will you show me how to do it?" Seth popped in the door to ask. Seth worked as a key-holder part-time and bartender the rest. He could open and close the restaurant as a manager but had no real power or authority over the staff, financials, or major decisions.
"Sure." I grabbed the phone and started the standard questions. Most calls having to do with overcharges were false or accidental, but all had to be looked into. I got the relevant information from the customer, date of the transaction, the amount charged, an amount that should've been charged, the number on the credit card and customer name and phone number.
"A server may swipe a credit/debit card and then have to recharge the card. The reasons vary; the card may have been used on the wrong tab, or the customer may have decided to stay longer resulting in the original swipe being deleted," I explained to Seth.
"Banks hold a charge amount for up to seventy-two hours as a Pending Transaction, so an error in debiting cannot be rectified until the charge has Posted to the account." I watched as Seth looked through the signed credit card slips from the date of the transaction. “Once it has posted, we can refund the money if necessary. Nine times out of ten, though, the charge never switches from Pending to Posted. It just disappears.”
“Thanks. Anya was training me on the financials before . . . well, before, but I couldn’t remember about the overages. Thanks.” I nodded my acknowledgment.
"The private parties have really picked up since I left,” I prompted.
“Oh, yeah, the party room really helps. Customers like their own space. It makes them feel important. Found it!” Seth held up the signed slip. Seth was like an eager-to-please puppy. He was so focused on wanting to be helpful he volunteered information without realizing he was being pumped for it.
I almost felt guilty. Almost.
“Okay, now check the computer to verify the card was charged the correct amount. You’ll need to click on the date for the following day since credit cards are batched out after midnight for the business day.” Batching out just meant clearing the credit card charges for the day so the money would go into the pub’s bank account. I let him get going before I started priming the pump again.
“Tips good?”
“Same.” He nodded his head back and forth. “Parties are always easier money, you know that. I work some of them here, but never the offsite ones.” He was staring intently at the computer. He didn’t like to make mistakes. No eager little pup wanted to get kicked. Even a small mistake was a giant whack to him.
I looked over Seth’s shoulder at the computer screen, searching for the correct charge. I almost missed what he said.
“Offsite?” I asked.
“Small dinners and such. If you wanted to have a dinner party, you could book a bartender and server through us instead of going through a catering company. It’s been a big success.”
I put my hand on Seth’s shoulder, prompting him to stop his search. “Why are there two batch outs for every date? That’s new.” I pointed to the screen to show what I meant. Normally, all credit cards were closed out, one time, after the restaurant was closed. Every once in a while, there may be two, usually for a last-minute purchase after closing. Seth started scrolling through, looking for the right date, again.
“The offsite parties are billed at the end of each day in a separate batch. Anya said it made the accounting easier.”
Nothing about it made the accounting easier. Numbers were numbers. That was what I liked about them. They were black and white. Either they added up, or they didn’t. I didn’t agree or disagree with his comment.
“Who does get to work for these parties?”
“Mostly, the chicks. Sometimes, a server, but mostly the bartenders. It’s by whomever the client requests.”
“Only you would still use ‘whom’ correctly.” I nudged his shoulder.
“I found it! The guy bought dinner with his card and then bought some T-shirts on the way out. He must have forgotten.” Seth looked like he had won the grand prize on The Bozo Show.
“Regan?” Seth asked.
“Huh, what? Good job.” I patted his shoulder in reward. Good boy. “Now, call the customer back and explain the charges, please.” My mind had started wandering again over the information. Keeping the two charges separate didn’t make tracking the numbers easier for accounting purposes, but it did make snooping easier.
I settled back down into the chair and started scrolling through the charges. I went back through the dates until only one batch appeared for each day. I made a note in my trusty notebook. Yes, I still carried a notebook along with my iPhone. There was something satisfying about actually writing something down. Plus, I felt I remembered a fact better after having written it.
I pulled up the file where all of the PNL’s were saved. I gave myself a mental pat on the back that I had organized all of this info before I left. I was happy to see that Anya kept my system going through the years. It made today that much easier for me. I printed out the statements for the last eighteen months. That took me back one month before the extra charges started. I was stuffing it all in my bag when Peter came into the office. He glanced at my papers but didn’t say anything. He was used to me printing things. He knew I preferred a paper and pen over computer screens. I realized the irony since I wrote all of my articles on a screen.
“What’s up?” I asked as I pulled the purse strap over my shoulder.
“You have a visitor who wants to take you out.” My heart thunked against my chest as I thought about Gray. He was a slow mover, I never expected him to reach out that soon. I pushed past Peter in my haste. He blocked the door with his arm.
“It’s Ben.”