That mouth-quirk again. “He's your boss too.”
“Oh?”
“Mr Chuan owns this bar.”
“Shouldn't you be over there with him? I'd have thought he wanted his minders close...” I jerk a thumb at the minions... “… rather than exchanging small-talk with the barkeep.”
He sniffs. “He likes his bodyguards close, yes. I'm his Head of Security.”
I pause in my polishing. “A bar owner who needs a Head of Security?”
Rocking his hand, “Mr Chuan’s business runs a little wider than just owning a bar.” He taps his nose. “A word to the wise. He’s an important man around here. Don’t cross him.”
At the end of the bar, one of the customers is getting loud, his voice slurring.
Too much vodka…
I call out, “Hey, calm it down there.”
He turns, weaving as he stands, thrusting his glass onto the counter. “Another.
