Chapter Five

I 'm not in over my head. I'm not in over my head. I'm so fucking in over my head.

Kendall dropped his head into his hands and took a few breaths. Why had he given Drew's suggestion a try? Sure, he'd been unhappy at the law firm for quite some time, but to actually quit? Why hadn't he just tried to find work with another attorney? Managing the club? Yes, he knew the ins and outs after working there for nearly three years, but him…a manager…of people? What had Drew been thinking when he'd made the pitch two weeks ago? No sane person would put Kendall in charge of anything, least of all a business so heavily regulated by the government. God, if someone screwed up on his watch and cost them their liquor license…they'd be fucked.

Panicking over his career move kept Kendall from obsessing about Ridge and the hot kiss they'd shared. Their chemistry had burned hot enough to raze Tranquil Breezes, so why hadn't Ridge called or texted? Had Kendall misread the signs? Hell no. There was no mistaking the passionate way Ridge had kissed him. It had melted his brain and was probably the reason he'd accepted Drew's offer. And Kendall was right back to fretting over his first shift as the night manager.

A knock on his open door interrupted him before his worry could turn into a full-blown panic attack. Kendall jerked his head up and met the dark gaze of a man he'd never seen before. The guy with honey-blond hair wore a flight suit, identifying him as a bartender. Drew had mentioned a new hire the previous day when Kendall was shadowing him for the last time before flying solo. What was the new bartender's name? Eric? Elliot?

Full lips curved into a dazzling smile, distracting Kendall from his meltdown. "You look like you're freaking out." When Kendall continued to stare, the man stepped into the room and approached the desk, his hand out. "I'm Emmett by the way."

Emmett . That was it . Kendall stood up and they shook. "Kendall," he said. "It's nice to meet you."

"You say that now, but wait until you find out why I'm here."

Kendall stifled a groan and braced himself. Health department? Police? "Lay it on me."

Emmett's lips twitched. "Two of our waiters are about to come to blows over a patron. Javier said I should come to your office and let you know."

Technically, it was an office shared by the club management team. Moments ago, his ass was in the manager's chair. Therefore, it was his office until three in the morning when he could run screaming to his car.

I'm so fucking in over my head .

"Um, Javier said you're good at settling disputes."

I am? Since when? No time like the present, he guessed.

Apparently, Kendall hesitated too long because Emmett looked at him expectantly and said, "About the waiters…"

Kendall nodded and walked around the desk. "Right. Colt and Carey. Most people call them the twins."

Emmett fell into step with him as they exited his office. His office . That was going to take some getting used to…if he survived his first shift in charge. Colt and Carey seemed determined to put him to the test.

"Are they related?" Emmett asked.

"No. Just childhood friends. They've spent so much time together their looks and mannerisms are identical."

Emmett chuckled. "Sounds like they could probably stand a little separation. Perhaps make a new friend or two."

"I couldn't agree more. Please tell me Colt and Carey aren't arguing in front of our guests." And why were they still fighting over other men when they so obviously wanted each other?

"Nope," Emmett replied. "They're locking horns and creating havoc in the kitchen. I happened to catch the show when I returned from my break."

Kendall groaned. The last time those two had gotten into a catfight the fur, body glitter, and saliva had gone flying. "They'd better not taint the food again."

"Again?" Emmett asked. Kendall didn't need to see his face to know the man was cringing.

Kendall pushed through the swinging doors and stepped into the kitchen. Colt and Carey were midbattle and unconcerned about their audience. The argument hadn't turned physical yet, but their red cheeks and pinched expressions let Kendall know he'd arrived in the nick of time.

"I saw him first," Colt snarled.

Carey snorted. "So what? You were too busy batting your eyelashes at him to close the deal. I saw an opening and took it."

"Ha!" Colt bellowed. "And how'd he respond to you pushing your phone number toward him?"

Carey sniffed and lifted his chin. "His fingers were coated in sauce, so he ignored it."

"How convenient," Colt quipped.

Carey lifted his hands and shoved Colt's chest before Kendall could reach them. The effort was minimal at best, but Colt flailed his arms and took a few steps back, a cloud of body glitter wafting in his wake.

"Hey!" Kendall yelled, gaining both their attention. "Put the damn claws away, gentlemen."

Colt and Carey immediately launched into explanations about how the other had started the altercation. Kendall held up his hand and cut them both off.

"I don't care how the fight started. I'm ending it," he told them. "I want both of you to clock out and go home."

"What?" Colt said.

"You can't be serious," Carey added.

"You heard me. I know for a fact Drew gave you both verbal warnings last week." Kendall gestured around the kitchen to where the staff was guarding the food against contamination. "Clock out and go home. Make sure you come in early on your next shifts to sign and acknowledge your official write-ups."

Colt's gaze widened and filled with unshed tears. Kendall barely fought the urge to roll his eyes. Jesus . He'd perfected the kitten-stuck-in-the-rain look, and this kid had a long way to go. Carey crossed his arms over his chest, striking a defiant stance. It didn't budge Kendall a centimeter from his decision.

"You can go now and miss out on tips from half a shift, or you can miss two nights' worth. What's it going to be, gentlemen?" Though neither of them deserved the title, Kendall bestowed it on them anyway. He wouldn't give them a valid complaint to take to Drew.

Carey continued to scowl until Colt sniffled. Then his taciturn expression morphed into one of fierce protectiveness as he slipped his arm around Colt's shoulders. "Don't cry," he said. "I'm sorry I acted like an asshole."

Colt leaned into his friend and slipped an arm low around Carey's waist. "I'm sorry for overreacting. You were right. The guy was completely indifferent to my flirting."

"Well, there's something wrong with him, then," Carey said, "because you're perfect."

"Maybe our guest just wants to eat the best damn wings in town without getting harassed," Kendall suggested.

The newly made-up friends glared at him like he was public enemy number one. Oh well. His conscience was guilt free when he gestured for them to exit the kitchen.

"Fine," Colt said haughtily. He sailed through the swinging door with his head held high. Carey glared at Kendall once more before following his friend.

The kitchen staff erupted in a cheer. Chef Mike gave him two thumbs up and removed the plastic wrap from the sauce bowls on his station. Could this night get any weirder?

"I see Javier was right about you," Emmett said. "Nice job."

Maybe Kendall should classify his conflict-resolution style as picking his battles rather than avoidance. He was feeling stronger about his decision after receiving praise from the kitchen staff and Emmett.

"Still doubting your decision to accept the management position?" Emmett asked.

Kendall tilted his head and studied the handsome man. "Is everyone talking about me?"

Emmett chuckled. "Nope. I'm just very astute." The taller man stepped closer and said, "Even if I were a dim bulb, I still would've recognized the panic I saw in your eyes."

Mimicking Carey's stance from a moment ago, Kendall crossed his arms over his chest. "I think panic is a strong word."

"Drew took a big chance when he promoted you. I'd be more concerned if you didn't have doubts."

Kendall heaved a sigh. "You're not helping."

"It's not you I doubt. Promoting from within presents a unique set of problems for every manager. Yes, you put someone in charge who's familiar with the company and the employees, but—"

"The promoted person isn't always respected because the staff still sees them as an equal," Kendall said.

Emmett nodded. "And sometimes they see the person as inferior to themselves or someone else they believe should've been promoted instead."

Kendall blew out a breath. He'd had his share of battles with the other servers in the past. Did they see him as inferior or undeserving of the promotion Drew had offered him? Wasn't that fair if they did? Kendall had doubted his decision every other second since he'd accepted Drew's offer. Why would the rest of the club feel differently about his sudden rise in authority? "I can see your point."

The swinging doors opened suddenly, catching Kendall's right hip. Mateo, a former college gymnast, came through them, looking between his manager and the bartender. "Sorry, K," he said when Kendall ran a hand over his hip. "Um, who do you want to pick up Carey's and Colt's tables? It's a packed house out there, and we're now short two of our best waiters."

"Wow," Emmett said. "Word travels fast around here."

"Faster than gossip through a beauty parlor or church pew," Kendall quipped.

Emmett chuckled. "I'll take your word for it." He headed out to the club, leaving Kendall to sort out the newest problem.

"What's his deal?" Mateo asked.

"His deal?"

"Yeah, polite and professional."

Kendall gasped in mock horror. "Say it isn't so."

"Even to the customers," Mateo added.

"Oh." That was curious. "No flirting?"

Mateo shook his head. "There's a bet going."

"Already? Can't the guy even complete his first shift?"

"You know how it is around here, K."

Kendall nodded. "Dare I ask?"

"Three camps," Mateo said, needing no further prompting. "He's either straight, in a committed relationship, or doesn't need the money. If you want generous tips, you gotta flirt, but you know this. Your skills are legendary."

Kendall fought off the urge to preen. "I don't know about that."

" Legendary ."

He could think of a dozen things he'd rather be known for, but he let it go. Mateo had sought him out to solve a problem, after all. "I'll take care of the tables and divvy up the tips between all of you."

"Sweet!" the gymnast said before pivoting and leaving the kitchen.

Kendall headed out to the dining room, stopping by the computer to check which areas were assigned to Colt and Carey. They were next to one another, which had made it easy for Carey to witness Colt striking out. He wanted to check in with the patron the guys had fought over but wasn't sure which table it was until he got to Colt's section. The man was tall, broad, and looked like he could stop a freight train with a hug.

Kendall observed the man's behavior as he made his way to the table. The oak tree of a man kept his head down, avoiding eye contact as he mowed his way through chicken wings. Two empty plates were stacked at the edge of the table. Christ. It looked like the big bruiser was eating his body weight in wings.

"Let me clear these for you," Kendall said when he reached the object of Colt and Carey's obsession.

The man snapped his head up and scowled at Kendall. His black hair was shaved close to his head, but it wasn't quite a buzz cut. Kendall had heard of eyes so dark they looked black but hadn't thought they were real until that moment. A white scar slashed across the man's forehead, the bottom of the scar bisecting his eyebrow on the left side. The dark stubble dotting his jawline was a stark contrast to his pale skin. Two teardrops were tattooed under his left eye and three under his right. Had this man killed five people? And would he be opposed to adding a third teardrop under his left to balance them out? Kendall was a big fan of symmetry. A cruel sneer tipped the corner of the big bruiser's mouth, and Kendall was sure he'd done Colt and Carey a favor by getting them away. You've watched too many true-crime documentaries , K . Not all jerks are homicidal maniacs .

"What happened to the other two waiters? Was there a shift change?" bruiser asked.

"Of sorts," Kendall replied.

The guy smirked. "Did they get into a fight over me?"

Kendall figuratively bit his lip to keep from saying all the things that came to mind. Was the beefcake a closet case or just a cruel jackass? What was his goal? Getting the gay guys all worked up and fighting over him? Would he take the memory home and wrap it around his cock with his fist, or would he have used it as an excuse to harm them in the parking lot later? He let the thoughts bounce safely through his mind and land in the filter he was still honing.

"Can I refill your drink?" Kendall asked, refusing to take the man's bait.

Bruiser snorted. "Sure. Coke Zero."

"You got it," Kendall said, then started to turn.

"Wait," the man said before he took two steps. "Could I order another plate of wings? I've never had anything quite like these."

"Sweet chili lime?" Kendall asked.

"Yeah, but what kind of chili? It's more smoky than hot."

Kendall forced his lips into a flirty smile. "You really want to know?" The man blinked a few times before nodding. Kendall set the empty plates back on the table and leaned closer to him. Bruiser widened his eyes, but he didn't pull back. Just how curious was he about the ingredients in the sauce? "It's a secret."

The man swallowed hard, and a genuine smile played on his lips. Maybe his skills were legendary. "I promise not to tell anyone."

"While you put us out of business?" Kendall asked, straightening to his full height. "I don't think so. I'll be right back with your order." He picked up the plates and moved on to the neighboring table to check in with the other patrons.

Kendall fell into a familiar rhythm of bouncing from table to table, making sure guests were taken care of, racking up big tips as he went. He thought a lot about what Emmett had said and hoped the waitstaff realized Kendall was committed to being an excellent manager, even though he wasn't convinced the move had been the right one. His decision to send Colt and Carey home could still backfire, but at least he'd demonstrated a willingness to step in when it was needed.

He caught Emmett's eye during one of his trips to the bar. The taller man came over to fill his order and added a glass of water for Kendall.

"You're a natural," the enigmatic bartender said.

Kendall took a long drink, then handed the empty glass back. "I think the jury is still out on that one."

Still, Emmett's praise was a much-needed shot in the arm.

Maybe I'm not completely in over my head .