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As soon as Shane pushed open the door and entered, Kevin was the first to notice him.
"Hey! Brother!"
Kevin straightened up from behind the bar, his face full of smiles.
He held something wrapped in greaseproof paper in his hand and waved it in the air.
"Come over and try this! This is our bar's latest launch—the Super Value Special Burger!"
Shane's footsteps paused.
He stared at the burger packaging in Kevin's hand: the yellowish-brown greaseproof paper, the specific three-layer folding method at the corners, and logo name.
...Isn't this the fcking breakfast I sold this morning?
Shane didn't speak but took the burger directly and examined it carefully.
This was what he sold in the morning. He instantly knew where the problem lay.
"Did Frank 'specially supply' this to you? Did he also sell you some chicken rolls? And sandwiches?" Shane looked up and asked.
Kevin seemed a bit surprised. He blinked, "Yeah... how did you know?"
He scratched the back of his head. "He didn't sell it for much. I just used a few beers, and he gave me everything, only a few dozen."
Kevin hadn't noticed the deeper meaning in Shane's words. Looking at Shane's exhausted expression, he asked with some concern:
"Hey, why do you look so tired? Was it because this morning..." He paused, a hint of sympathy in his eyes, "didn't sell much?"
Shane didn't answer this question. He just sighed, then rubbed the space between his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger.
The helplessness in this action was so full that Kevin finally realized something was wrong.
Kevin looked down at the burger in his hand, then looked up at the familiar expression on Shane's face that only appeared after "Frank caused a mess."
His mouth slowly opened, and his eyes widened.
"Oh... shit! Wait. This batch of goods... don't tell me he... stole it from you?"
Shane handed the burger back. "If no one bought my breakfast in bulk this morning."
"Then I guess it is."
The air behind the bar solidified for a few seconds.
Kevin's face turned red. "I really didn't know!"
He said hurriedly, his voice involuntarily raising a bit, causing Tommy at the next table to glance over.
"That old bastard! He told me he was helping a friend clear inventory! Sorry, Shane, I'll refund you the money—no, the beer equivalent in money right now! Or I'll just return these remaining goods directly—"
"Forget it, Kevin."
Shane waved his hand, interrupting him.
"You spent money to buy them too." Shane pointed to Kevin's 'shelf'. "Besides, you've already sold some."
Kevin looked in the direction of his finger, his expression even more awkward.
"Aren't you selling them quite well?" Shane asked. "How much did you price them at?"
Kevin rubbed his hands. "Burgers... three fifty. Chicken rolls three dollars. As for that sandwich,"
His voice lowered a bit, "I named it 'Nutritional Energy Sandwich' and bragged to customers that it was some 'fitness formula'... selling for four dollars."
He added: "There aren't many people at noon now, only sold about ten. But they should all be cleared by tonight."
After speaking, he looked at Shane with a look of sympathy that said 'Brother, I understand, starting a business is hard.'
In Kevin's simple cognition, things had automatically connected in his mind:
Shane worked from dawn to dusk to stock up a batch of goods (with this quality, the cost must not be low!), but couldn't sell them at all in the morning (nonsense, who would spend three dollars on a burger early in the morning? This isn't Wall Street)!
Then inventory piled up, he felt depressed, and was stolen from by that old bastard Frank who resold part of it to him.
Now Shane came over with a tired face, probably wanting to discuss if the profit sharing could be delayed...
Too tragic.
A picture formed in his mind simultaneously:
In the cold wind of a Chicago morning, Shane pitifully guarded his small stall, forcing a smile at the few customers.
Kevin made up his mind. He would support this little brother.
"But seriously, Shane," Kevin leaned forward, elbows on the bar.
"The cost of this batch shouldn't be low, right? Is it because of the pricing? Hmm... slightly too high, so not much sold in the morning?"
He patted Shane's shoulder again.
"Don't lose heart, brother. Business is built on persistence. You know when I did business for the first time—selling 'hand-woven shawls' from Mexico, which turned out to be all Yiwu goods f. I lost so much I almost had to sell my pants, and V almost made me sleep on the sofa for a month."
Shane looked at Kevin's face written with "I completely understand your pain" and didn't know how to respond for a moment.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say "my cost is actually very low," wanting to say "you got it completely backwards," but seeing the sincere sympathy in Kevin's eyes, he decided to give up.
Forget it, let the misunderstanding be. At least this way, what he was going to say next would be more reasonable.
"Uh... it's not what you think."
Shane pulled the topic back to business. "But there's one thing. If we split the accounts every day, the accounts will be messy. How about we settle your share once a week from now on? It's easier for me to calculate."
Hearing this, Kevin nodded even harder, as if confirming his inner guess.
"No problem! Absolutely no problem! Brother, don't feel pressured!"
His voice got loud again. "Let's take it slow! Speak up anytime you need help! Car breaks down, call me; can't move goods, call me; someone looking for trouble, call me too!"
The picture in his brain updated automatically again:
Shane not only had to face dismal business but also complicated accounts, and possibly harassment from street punks.
Kevin made up his mind. He must support him to the end, just like V supported his shawl business back then.
Shane looked at Kevin's face, sincere to the point of silliness, and the annoyance of Frank stealing goods inexplicably dissipated a bit, replaced by a warmth that was both infuriating and funny.
He patted Kevin's shoulder and smiled: "Thanks, brother. I'm going to chat with others."
"Go, go!" Kevin waved. "Chatting more is good! Expand connections! I'll always save a seat for you here!"
...
Half an hour later, Shane went through the collected intelligence in his mind and prepared to leave.
He walked to the bar and knocked on the counter: "Leaving, Kevin. Going back to catch up on sleep."
"Rest well!" Kevin immediately looked up from wiping glasses. "Recharge your energy! Fight again tomorrow!"
Shane walked to the door, remembered something, and turned back to say: "By the way, if you want to stock some of my goods to sell in the bar, I can give you a friendship price."
Kevin's motion of wiping glasses paused again.
His brain started calculating quickly. If the cost was too high, since Shane was a middleman, he would have no profit, purely helping Shane clear inventory.
But if the purchase price could be lower... like one dollar? Then he could earn a bit on each, although not much, at least not purely helping.
But what if Shane gritted his teeth and gave him a "friendship price" at a loss? Wouldn't that be taking advantage of a brother? He, Kevin, was not like Frank.
He struggled for two seconds, then compromised: "How about this, wait until tomorrow to see how business is! If it sells well, I'll take a few dozen from you tomorrow!"
Afraid of hurting Shane's self-esteem, he quickly added a sentence.
"Of course, I'm not saying your goods aren't good! I mean... uh... let's play it safe! One step at a time! Don't worry, the taste is really good. Old Tom just said it's more substantial than McDonald's!"
Shane looked at his expression of "I am trying hard to protect my little brother's fragile entrepreneurial heart" and finally couldn't hold back.
"Okay, Kevin." He opened the door and walked out. "I don't think the sales volume will disappoint you."
Kevin stood behind the bar, watching Shane leave, then looked down at the burger in his hand, muttering in a low voice:
"My brother, it's really not easy for him." He grabbed a burger. "Tonight I have to promote this to everyone who comes to drink."
Kevin was still thinking about how to help Shane, but completely failed to notice that at the other end of the bar, Tommy and Kermit exchanged a knowing look.
"Did Kevin conjure up some tragic drama in his head again?" Tommy whispered, sipping his beer.
"Probably." Kermit chuckled, the wrinkles on his face bunching up. "I bet ten bucks he thinks Shane is about to go bankrupt right now and is thinking about how to donate anonymously."
"I bet twenty," Tommy leaned closer, "he'll secretly lower the burger price to two eighty tonight, then tell customers 'support local small entrepreneurs, special promotion'."
"Then lose money just to earn shouts?"
"Then Shane finds out tomorrow that his goods were snatched up, looking confused."
The two clinked glasses.
They were now toasting to the never-absent absurd daily life of the South Side, to Frank's bastard behavior that could always refresh the bottom line, and to Kevin's heart of loyalty that was always hot-blooded but often used in the wrong place.
Cheers.