New Story - again written exclusively on Steemit - WiP - Bouncer Part 3

I started a new story to share on Steemit. It's not my usual type of tale, but I decided it has legs so I'm going to let it run.

Meet Zack, my newest character. I hope you like him.

The first part was written a few weeks ago and since then, I've been mulling it over in my head where the story needs to go.

Part 1
Part 2

Pictures from Google free to use search

Please note: This is the FIRST DRAFT, no editing, written straight onto paper.

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Sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains hit Zack right in the eyes, waking him up. He heard the shower running and he jolted himself awake – he’d lived alone since his dad had gone to the hospice where he’d spent the last few weeks of his life.

A brief but harsh stabbing pain seared through his head right behind his eyeballs and he wiped a hand down his face as he recalled the celebratory dinner and the slightly drunken taxi ride home.
He groaned and lay back down. A night-owl by habit, his brother’s early-morning habit didn’t gel with drinking Champagne ‘til midnight and talking, reminiscing until dawn.

Zack dozed off again and the eyeball-pain drew another groan as the bedroom door opened and Taylor threw his damp towel over his head.

“Come on, lazy bleeder! We’ve got business to sort out,” he said.

Zack had a shower, a black coffee for breakfast and then Taylor had to settle for riding in the scrappy Peugeot to fetch his own car from the restaurant car park.

Zack dropped Taylor off and turned the car around to head off to the office. Taylor caught him up easily and they arrived at the same time.

Taylor took time to make sure his car locked properly, and pulled the handle to check the door was locked before he joined his older brother at the door to their new office.

First order of business, Taylor phoned work to tell them to hold all appointments, he was taking the day off for unexpected family business.

The day flew by – phone calls all day kept both brothers occupied. Lunch at their desk, talking about their progress.

“I’ve got a few good lads lined up,” Zack said. “Trustworthy, decent lads, no ‘shirt-fillers’. We don’t want a reputation of brawlers or runners. We’ve got to get it right. I can see there being a bit of trouble to start with, but it’ll blow over.”

Taylor looked up from his notebook. “Trouble?” he said. “What kind of trouble?”

“You know, other sec firms worrying about a new kid on the block muscling in. The clubs we’ve poached the lads from, getting snotty about having to pay the same lads more money, plus our cut. That kind of thing,” Zack said. He paused and thought for a second. “Then, there’s the clubs that won’t like us coming in because we’ll be raising the bar with standards and payments. They’ll not like it when we show the other clubs what real door staff are like.”

“Yeah, I suppose I already knew it wouldn’t be plain sailing to start with.”

Taylor’s phone rang. They both looked at it as though they’d never seen one before.

Taylor grabbed for it, fumbled it when he saw the called ID and had to have a moment to compose himself.

“Hello?” he said in a confident manner.

“Viktor, good morning. How are you?” he said in response to the other end of the conversation.

Zack watched for a moment and got back to his lunch. There was too much to do to act as spectator to each other’s conversations all day.

A few minutes later, Taylor ended the conversation. “Thanks Viktor. Yeah, we both appreciate it. Looking forward to meeting with you later.” Taylor put down his phone and rubbed his hands down his face.

Zack looked up from his own notebook, pen in hand. “Good news?” he said when Taylor finally stopped staring at his phone on the desk and moved his hands.

Taylor nodded, eyebrows raised, a bemused expression on his face. “Remember that club we went to for James’ stag night?” he said.

“Last year? The one where I ended up not bloody drinking, babysitting you lot while you had a good time? That club?”

Taylor laughed at the memory. “Yeah, the very same.”

“Yeah. I remember it,” Zack said, his tone had a surly edge, like the memory wasn’t his favourite.

“Ah,” Taylor said. “From your expression, I gather I didn’t tell you what I did when I sobered up.”

“Go on,” Zack said.

“I rang the club to apologise. I explained that we were on a stag night and we’d got a bit out of hand and we’d pay for the damage caused when it all kicked off at the end.”

Not quite... but, you know...

“That wasn’t actually…” Zack said.

Taylor interrupted his explanation. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t our fault. Viktor explained we’d been unfortunate in getting in the middle of a bit of a turf war. Apparently, he was impressed that we’d been rolling drunk, yet when push came to shove, we’d handled the local tough guys and one of our lot stood out more than the rest.”

“Oh? Who?”

“You, numbnuts!” Taylor said. “Viktor mentioned the sober one was professional. He’d watched everything on CCTV and was surprised that I phoned to apologise.”

“So you told him we were setting up a security firm and…” Zack said.

Taylor interrupted again. “No. That’s just it. That was before we’d even thought about going out on our own. He not only kept my number, he’s also got contacts in this area who told him we’re setting up our own firm. He wants a meeting with us this evening. He’s coming down from Manchester, he’s on his way now.”

“That’s a big deal…” Zack said.

“It’s a massive deal, brother. We’re on our way!”