New Story - again written exclusively on Steemit - WiP - Bouncer Part 30

This story is evolving with a pace all its own. I'm listening to the feedback and if something resonates, I've decided that I'll go with it (thanks @kiwideb). Feel free to give feedback on characters, storylines etc - even if you think it's harsh.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, part 27, Part 28, Part 29,

Pictures from Google free to use search

Please note: This is the FIRST DRAFT, no editing, written straight onto paper. I don't know how to highlight that any more than it is. I'll NOT be making any alterations to what's already been written. As a good friend and excellent author has said, First draft is a race to get the story down before it decides to stop telling itself to you. Thanks Glenn. @alienbutt

68 pages, 26,926 words so far.

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Sinbad nodded again. “I’d have to think it over. I’m still second in command at the club. I’ve no idea why Mikhail won’t let me take over as Head Doorman now you’ve left,” he said.

Zack said nothing, he nodded in the right places and listened to Sinbad complaining.

Sinbad left after voicing every complaint about his job – as though Zack had no experience of being his Head Doorman. Zack smiled to himself as he realised that Sinbad must have done the same thing when he was Head Doorman – complained about his every decision.

Liz came back to the office when she saw Sinbad leaving. Zack came back and they carried on their work. They didn’t realise the time, they worked so hard. The buzzer to the side door rang again and they looked up to see who it was.

“Oh, Taylor,” Liz said. “I promised to meet him for lunch.”

Zack went downstairs to let him in.

“So, I waited for you for a while and then I thought you’d either forgotten or you were caught up in work,” Taylor said in a mock-stern tone of voice.

Liz started to apologise.

Taylor held up a hand. “No, don’t worry,” he said. “I’m used to my big brother coming between me and my girlfriends.”

Liz looked at Zack and realised Taylor was winding her up because Zack stood shaking his head ‘no’ so she wouldn’t believe what Taylor was telling her.

She nodded. “Yes, you’re right,” she said. “My head has been turned. I’ve realised I’m attracted to the harder-working brother.”

Taylor turned around to catch Zack shaking his head and he laughed. “Oh all right,” he said, handing a package to Liz. “I bought you a sandwich. I figured you’d be busy. I bought you one too.” He handed Zack a brown paper parcel too.

They ate lunch and discussed Sinbad’s complaints.

“I don’t trust him,” Liz said. “He’s sneaky.”

“You’ve got him pegged,” Zack said, nodding.

“Pegged?” Liz asked.

“He means you’ve made the right guess about him. He’s sneaky and sly and if he can, he’ll try to get in on the act. If he can’t, he’ll try to ruin it,” Taylor said. “He’s like the kid that takes his ball back if the other kids don’t let him win.”

“You’re not going to give him a job, are you?” Liz asked. “I won’t have him here.”

“I wouldn’t give him a job if he was the last licenced doorman in the country,” Zack said. “Your instincts are good. He’s trouble, always was. I’ve no idea how he still has his licence.”

“Tell Liz about that time he almost killed that alcoholic,” Taylor said.

Zack looked at Taylor and attempted to communicate without words. It didn’t work – at least with Taylor, but Liz caught his meaning.

“If it’s not an appropriate thing for the head of security to tell the manager of the club, don’t worry, we’re on a lunch break and as long as it wasn’t you or Taylor that was involved in the story, I don’t have a problem.

Zack mulled it over. Then he began telling the tale in his inimitable fashion, drawing in his audience, putting them right in the centre of the action as though they were actually there when the story took place.

There was an alcoholic guy that had been going to the same club for decades. He’d patiently watched the venue alter and change from a snooker club to a nightclub and he’d only ever missed a couple of nights in all that time – and one of those times, he was in hospital and couldn’t get to the club.

As soon as he was released from the hospital, his first port of call was the pub downstairs.

This guy came in every night. As soon as the doors opened, he’d make his way from the pub, around to the front of the club. If he was lucky, he’d get in for free because he was a regular, he was the first man in, last man out, he never caused any trouble and the receptionist was often still setting up the till and everything, so she just nodded for him to go up.

He’d order his beer, sit on a stool at the bar, as far to the end as he could, and slowly get drunk.

At the end of the night, he’d wobble off down the stairs, say goodnight and wobble off home. The only trouble he caused was he once fell into the road and was hit by a taxi. That was the cause for the hospital stay – one night.