American fame and fortune

Chapter 9 Why I Didn't Tip
The House of the Beast is located on Saijo Avenue within the Atlanta Loop, at the western edge of the urban area. As soon as Martin took his chin down, he saw a huge signboard flashing in the night sky.

The facade of the club is luxurious and high-end.

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

In contrast, the bar with the "BLACKED" neon sign on the opposite side is more lively, with at least forty or fifty men queuing up.

Women don't have to line up and enter for free.

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

Ivan nodded: "Tickets, $20."

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

Ivan stretched out his hand: "People who are not from the House of Beasts must buy a ticket to enter."

Give people money and buy tickets?Martin pointed to the long queue in front of the black bar on the opposite side of the road, and said, "Do you know why there are many people over there, but there are few people on your side? Over there, girls are allowed to enter for free!"

Ivan's head was tense: "You are not a girl."

"Their customers are men, so girls are allowed to enter for free." Martin pointed to his chest: "Your customers are women, so handsome guys like me should be allowed to enter for free to help you attract customers."

Ivan's partner, the golden retriever, answered, "It makes sense."

Next to him, a middle-aged woman who was still charming looked at Martin carefully, and her saliva was about to overflow: "Handsome guy, aren't you a gigolo?"

Women who come to this kind of club for entertainment must be full of hunger and thirst. Martin reacted extremely quickly: "I'm here to apply."

The middle-aged woman immediately took out two 20-dollar tickets, and said angrily, "I've paid for his ticket." Then she ran over, took Martin's arm and walked in: "Are you going on stage tonight? I'll buy a $100 luxury private room for two." Lap dance!"

Martin said seriously, "I'm applying for the job, but the boss doesn't necessarily accept me."

The middle-aged woman hugged Martin's arm tightly, dribbling with the ball: "I believe you will succeed, unless the boss is blind! We agreed, you must give me the first two lap dances."

She raised an eyebrow: "Want to earn more, follow me..."

Martin quietly pulled out his arm, and pointed casually: "I'm going to apply for the boss, and I can't be late."

The middle-aged woman said quickly, "My name is Susan."

Martin automatically ignores that although he is poor, the effort is not proportional to the gain, so he will never consider it.

Instead of going to the bar, he found a corner where no one was paying attention, and silently observed the club.

Owing $6000 in loan sharks is much more than paying back $6000.

That's compound interest.

Always think of a way.

Martin asked someone to inquire about it during the day, and Bruce's words have a certain degree of credibility.

It may not have been long since it opened, and the venue that accommodates hundreds of people can seat at most forty customers.

Even so, the atmosphere is still hot, the woman goes crazy, and the man can't catch up with the rocket.

Some large-scale pictures are frequently staged on the side of the circular stage.

The so-called industry regulations can only guarantee the maintenance of the last line within the club.

Out of the club, it belongs to personal freedom.

After a dance, several women went to the bar to drink and rest. Martin turned his eyes and found that the bartender turned out to be Bruce, a civilized man.

No, it should be the Paper Licking Maniac.

He licked the Scarlett Johansson poster up his ass.

The tragic fate of that Entertainment Weekly can be imagined.

Martin spotted Vincent Lee across the bar.

It was a white guy in a rolled-up cowboy hat, twenty-seven and eight years old, with a big hooked nose that could peck.

Martin's gaze caught Vincent's attention, and Vincent squinted in his direction.

Affordable to open this kind of club, and dare to lend usury, Martin will not be so stupid as to treat Vincent as a businessman, quickly build up his mental strength, and stride over.

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

Martin took out the check made during the day and put it in front of Vincent: "The first installment of interest and repayment, $600."

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

After repaying the loan first, Martin cautiously probed: "Can the debt be charged to him? Part of it is fine."

Vincent didn't answer at all: "Find a way to make money?"

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

The genius of civilized people lies in licking paper, and the clumsiness of bartending.

Martin kept talking: "I broke my leg while working, and the boss was kind and offered a sum of compensation."

Vincent nodded slightly: "You have perfectly inherited Jack's scumbag genes. If you come to work with me and perform on stage, they can fill your crotch with money, and the money will be paid off soon."

Crazy female customers, waving small denomination banknotes, kept stuffing them into the waists of the handsome men.

Martin made no secret of his envy for the green bills, and Sabie didn't like it.

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

Besides, the land is hard to perish, but the cattle are easy to die.

Martin turned his head abruptly, resisting his longing for small tickets, looked at the civilized bartender, and muttered, "There is something wrong with this glass of wine."

Bruce was pouring his Long Island iced tea into a glass with ice.

Vincent was indeed attracted: "Will there be a problem with the wine mixed by Bruce?"

Martin pointed to the glass with ice, and made a lot of nonsense from his previous life knowledge: "The essence of Long Island iced tea lies in ice, and the icicles in the glass are only added to less than half the height, and the frosty smell is not enough to bring the temptation to sink the mouth. "

Vincent was unmoved, who cares about a flooded woman?

Martin immediately changed his rhetoric: "This means that at least one-third more alcohol must be added to the empty part of the upper part of the glass. Even if the cheapest base wine of the same kind is used, the profit of a glass will be much less."

Vincent lifted his cowboy hat, and silently calculated: "A cup of Long Island Iced Tea earns an extra $2, based on selling 30 cups a night, an extra $420 a week."

He looked at Martin for the first time tonight: "Do you know how to mix wine?"

Martin skillfully pulled up the shield: "Old bastard Jack is the most versatile person in Marietta."

Vincent rushed to the bar and shook his head: "Let me see."

Martin took off his coat and put it on the high chair. The tight T-shirt exploded with hormones. He walked around the bar and patted Bruce: "Man, this is not a civilized person's job."

Bruce had spotted Martin a long time ago, saw the boss nodding, and took the initiative to step aside.

Martin cleaned his hands, quickly scanned the various materials, and asked the nearest customer: "Miss, what do you need?"

"One more," said the woman who had just finished a glass of Long Island iced tea.

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

But it is suitable for the icy and cold taste of the sluts when they are on fire.

Martin acted immediately, and his movements were a little rusty at the beginning. After preparing the four base wines of gin, vodka, rum and tequila, he gradually became proficient and recovered the state before he was suffocated to death by the Danni balloon .

Add more than two-thirds of the icicles in the middle of the glass, pour in the mixed wine, garnish with a slice of lemon, put it into a straw, and hand it to the woman: "Your wine."

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

The female customer took a sip carefully: "It suits me better than the one just now."

After paying for the drink, she took out another dollar and pushed it in front of Martin.

Bruce looked at Vincent again, spread his hands, wondering: why didn't I tip?

Customers who are willing to spend money don’t mind ordering a cocktail. Some people have asked for common cocktails such as Pink Lady, Angel Kiss, and Manhattan.

Martin works very hard. If he doesn't run away, he needs a free daytime job to earn income, so as to support seeking opportunities in the industry he is good at.

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

(End of this chapter)