The Mafia Empire
Chapter 45: Chapter 45 Liquor Business Start Again

"Gawain, can you drive?"

Gawain responded that he could. Before working for Mr. Colt, he had been a driver for a while. If it weren't for a problem with the steering wheel of the car, he wouldn't have lost that job and would never have landed his current position.

Mr. Colt nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. People with a skill always leave an impression. Starting tomorrow, you'll be driving. It's a very important job.

The entire bar's liquor supply depends on your timely transportation."

Hearing that he was about to take on such an important task, Gawain was overjoyed. He pressed his lips together and nodded vigorously. "I won't let you down, sir. I'll become the best driver!"

At that moment, Gawain truly believed this, and until the event that occurred not long after, even Mr. Colt believed it, too. After all, how complicated could picking up and delivering goods be? In Ternell City, seeing a car pass by every five minutes was considered heavy traffic!

Mr. Colt waved his hand dismissively. "Do your job well, and that'll be the greatest support for me. Go ahead and take over now."

After Gawain left, Mr. Colt pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat. When he opened the cover, a picture of his daughter popped out. His heart warmed inexplicably, and he gently stroked the picture with his thumb as if his daughter were right there beside him. Glancing at the time, it was fifteen minutes to five—Graf should be arriving soon.

The reason he remembered today that he still had a subordinate named Gawain tracking Graf was that Graf had informed him that deliveries would start again today, with the liquor being brought over before five in the evening.

There were ten crates in total, 120 bottles. At ten dollars per bottle, that came to 1,200 dollars. It was a hefty sum, but it also meant substantial earnings. With a cost of 1,200 dollars, they could make at least 800 to 900 dollars in return. The final amount would depend largely on the bartenders.

A good bartender would add an extra ice cube and pour a little less liquor, saving enough that three bottles could make two extra glasses.

But as for those honest and obedient bartenders, they were much more straightforward...

At five minutes before five, Graf and two young men pushed open the door and entered, setting the ten crates in the corner.

"Is that all?" Mr. Colt frowned at the sight of the ten crates with 120 bottles. He knew all too well how popular this liquor was. Last time, they had run out, and several regular customers had complained. One frequent customer had never come back.

Graf, who had recently learned how to shrug, shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands. "That's all there is. For reasons I don't quite understand, each bar only gets this much stock each month."

One hundred and twenty bottles sounded like a lot—they could sell four bottles a day, or 20 glasses. But in reality, it was more like ten glasses, because there were two types of liquor, and there were only two bottles of each, so that made fewer than ten glasses.

This supply was far from enough to meet the demand. Some customers drank three or four glasses in a single night, and a couple of tables could easily finish off two bottles.

Though it was an honor for Mr. Colt and Wild Rose Bar to have a drink that customers loved so much, not being able to meet all their needs would turn into a hassle.

So, Mr. Colt blurted out, "What if I'm willing to pay a little extra? Can I get someone else's share?"

Graf immediately flashed a smile, showing two rows of slightly yellowing teeth. "If you don't mind paying a little extra, it's not impossible."

Mr. Colt's confidence returned. If the price went up, it would just be passed on to the customers anyway. He smirked, "How much extra?"

"For anything under 50 crates, it's twelve dollars a bottle."

"For between 50 and 100 crates, it's fifteen dollars a bottle."

"For over 100 crates, it's eighteen dollars a bottle!"

With each price Graf reported, Mr. Colt's face darkened further. When he heard that over 100 crates would cost eighteen dollars per bottle, he wanted to bite Graf. He had seen greedy merchants before, but nothing this outrageous. Why not just double the price? Mr.

Colt quickly picked up the pen on the table and did some calculations. If he wanted to order 100 crates, it would cost him 15,960 dollars, averaging over thirteen dollars per bottle. After that, every additional bottle would cost eighteen dollars.

What a rip-off!

Mr. Colt took a deep breath. "I'll take fifty crates..." He glanced at the ten crates on the floor. "Including these!"

...

"Mr. Gorn, the 'First Love' you've been waiting for has arrived!" The bartender expertly wiped the bar in front of Mr. Gorn again with a clean cloth, placing a coaster down. "Would you like this, or something else?"

Gorn's eyes lit up, and he tapped his fingers on the bar. "It's finally here? Then I'll have a glass. And don't try to fool me with some other liquor—its taste is quite unique and not easily replicated." After the bar ran out of "First Love," Mr. Gorn had gone to other bars. Some didn't know about the drink, some had sold out.

There were two bars that had it, but their versions weren't authentic. While they had a hint of bitterness, they lacked the lingering depth that "First Love" offered, like the difference between a skilled woman in a red dress standing outside a high-end restaurant's glass wall, and a noble, elegant lady in a red dress dining inside.

The clothes might be the same, but the substance was entirely different.

"Don't worry, Wild Rose Bar has a reputation to uphold!" The bartender soon served the "First Love," chilled with ice, onto the table. Under the dim lights, the ice and liquor shimmered, reflecting a mesmerizing glow. As Gorn inhaled the special aroma, he felt his heart almost swoon. He couldn't wait and took a sip, and in that instant, his whole body relaxed.

He felt himself once again entering a solitary, independent world.