America gains both fame and fortune

Chapter 9 Why I don't have a tip
The Beast's House is located on West Avenue within the Atlanta Beltline, on the western edge of the city. As soon as Martin got off the minibus, he saw the huge sign flashing in the night sky.

The club has a luxurious and classy facade.

A dozen or so women lined up along the sidewalk, waiting to buy tickets to enter.

In comparison, the bar opposite with black neon letters on its sign was more lively, with at least forty or fifty men queuing up.

Women don't have to queue and can enter for free.

Martin arrived at the door of the Beast House and said to the tall young man who collected the money, "I'm looking for Vincent."

Ivan nodded: "Tickets, 20 dollars."

Martin didn't want to give money, so he pulled out the banner of civility: "I'm Bruce's friend, giving money to Vincent."

Ivan called: "Come in."

Martin sneaked into the club, but instead of going to the bar, he found a corner where no one was paying attention and quietly observed the club.

Owing $6000 to a loan shark is much more than paying back $6000.

That's compound interest.

We have to think of a way.

Martin had specifically asked someone during the day, and Bruce's words were somewhat credible.

Maybe it had just opened, and the place that could accommodate hundreds of people only had forty customers at most.

Even so, the atmosphere was still hot.

After the dance, several customers went to the bar to drink and rest. Martin turned his head and found that the bartender was the civilized man Bruce.

Martin saw Vincent Lee on the other side of the bar.

He was a white man wearing a curled-brimmed cowboy hat, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with a large hooked nose that could peck at people.

Martin's gaze caught Vincent's attention, and Vincent glanced at him.

Martin would not be stupid enough to regard Vincent as a businessman since he could afford to open such a club and dare to lend money at high interest rates. He quickly prepared himself mentally and strode over.

Vincent put one hand on the bar and glanced at him: "Martin, the son of old bastard Jack."

Martin took out the check he had made during the day and placed it in front of Vincent: "First installment of interest and repayment, $600."

Vincent picked it up, flicked it, and put it in his shirt pocket: "Jack is really a talent. He even cheated his son. I admire him very much."

After paying off the debt first, Martin cautiously probed: "Can the debt be charged to him? Even part of it is fine."

Vincent didn't respond at all: "Found a way to make money?"

"No." Martin's eyes fell on Bruce.

Civilized people's talent lies in licking paper, and they are clumsy in mixing drinks.

Martin kept talking: "I broke my leg while working, and my boss was kind enough to give me some compensation."

Vincent nodded slightly: "You have perfectly inherited Jack's scumbag genes. Come work for me and perform on stage, and the money will be paid off soon." Martin did not hide his envy for the green money. Only fools don't like it.

But he was also afraid that once he got used to making money by lying down, it would be too difficult to stand up again.

Martin turned his head abruptly, resisting his desire for the receipt, and looked at the civilized bartender, muttering, "There's something wrong with this drink."

Bruce was pouring a Long Island iced tea into an iced glass.

Vincent was indeed attracted: "Will there be problems with the drinks Bruce mixes?"

Martin pointed at the glass with ice and started to talk nonsense based on his knowledge from his previous life: "The essence of Long Island Iced Tea lies in the ice. The icicle in the glass is less than half full, and the frost is not enough to tempt your mouth to indulge."

Vincent was unmoved. Who cares about this when they are just out for fun?

Martin immediately changed his explanation: "This means that the empty space at the top of the glass must be filled with at least one-third more alcohol. Even if the cheapest base liquor is used, the profit per glass will be much less."

Vincent raised his cowboy hat and calculated silently: "An extra $2 for a Long Island Iced Tea. If we sell 30 cups a night, we can make an extra $420 a week."

He looked Martin straight in the eye for the first time tonight: "You know how to mix drinks?"

Martin skillfully put up a shield: "Old bastard Jack is the most versatile man in Marietta."

Vincent shook his head towards the bar: "Let me see."

Martin took off his coat and put it on the high chair. His tight T-shirt showed off his hormones. He walked around the bar and patted Bruce: "Man, this is not a job for civilized people."

Bruce had already noticed Martin, and when he saw his boss nod, he took the initiative to step aside.

Martin cleaned his hands, quickly glanced over the various materials, and asked the nearest customer, "Ma'am, what can I do for you?"

The woman who had just finished a Long Island Iced Tea said, "Another one."

As the name suggests, Long Island Iced Tea originated in Long Island, New York. For normal women, it is a relatively strong cocktail.

But it is suitable for the cool and refreshing taste in a hot atmosphere.

Martin took action immediately. His movements were a little clumsy at first, but after preparing four base liquors: gin, vodka, rum and tequila, he gradually became proficient and regained his previous state.

He filled the glass to more than two-thirds of its capacity with icicles, poured in the prepared liquor, garnished it with a slice of lemon, put in a straw, and handed it to the woman: "Your drink."

This cup uses more than one-third less base liquor than Bruce.

The female customer took a sip carefully and said, "It suits me better than the last cup."

After paying for the drinks, she took out an extra dollar and pushed it specifically in front of Martin.

Bruce looked at Vincent again and spread his hands, confused: Why don't I have a tip?

People came one after another. Customers who were willing to spend money didn't mind ordering a cocktail. Some ordered common cocktails such as Pink Lady, Angel's Kiss and Manhattan.

Martin works very hard. If he doesn't run away, he needs a job with free time during the day to earn income to support himself in pursuing opportunities in the industry he is good at.

When no customers came for a while, Vincent called Martin: "Let's talk."

(End of this chapter)