And that’s where Dirty Dog turned from just a small, fleeting dream to what is already turning out to be the next best thing to hit the South.
I pull up behind the bar and park next to Shane’s BMW. The smile on my face grows as I walk from my truck and through the back of the building. I really should stop calling it a bar because this place is a monster too big for such a small word. We’re so much more than just a bar. We’re a nightclub formed with the bar atmosphere in mind. I guess the reason I always fall back on calling it ‘the bar’ is because each of the five bars that fill up the vast space work to form the whole basis to our appeal.
The old converted warehouse used to be on its last leg, but almost a year after buying it, the transformation is like night and day. The hallway that the back door feeds into leads to our storage units, coolers, and locker rooms for staff, as well as the large break room for some downtime between shifts. I even went as far as to add a gym so that the guys wouldn’t have to keep paying for memberships elsewhere. After all, our bodies are the main attraction here.
The center of the main room for Dirty holds the central and biggest bar. Each side of the building has two smaller, but no less impressive, ones with a huge open area between all of them for dancing. One back corner holds the DJ booth, stage, and electrical area for all the music. Then you have the second-level VIP area that runs the whole length above the holding area. Two staircases lead to that level with ten separate VIP areas.
My office takes up the other side building, running half the length, and the other half houses the gym. The only thing you can see from where I’m standing in the main room is a wall of black windows that runs from each side flanked by stairs like on the VIP end. Under that area, we have one more bar in the center surrounded by multiple booths and such.
After taking in all that is Dirty Dog, I walk farther into the main room to find Shane talking to six of the bartenders I had hired. I give a nod to Travis and Garrett, the Hanks brothers who used to dance with Shane. Brent, Logan, and Matt are standing behind them, and I get the same greeting back from them.
Denton, the sixth to round out our main bartenders, is already on top of the bar with his shirt off, showing them what he wants them to do. He’s taken on the role of resident dance coordinator, a job both Shane and myself were happy to pass on to him.
We lucked out picking up Denton. Not only does he have the look that will guarantee him being a crowd favorite with his background in modeling, but he also recently tried out for the show So You Think You Can Dance. He didn’t make it to the very end, but he got far enough to be our own little celebrity here at Dirty.
“You plan on just standing there, Dent? Or are you going to show us how it’s done?” I deadpan, only to laugh when he flips me off.
“Have you decided how you want the first showcase to go?” Shane asks when I drop down onto one of the barstools he had pulled over from one of the tables scattered around the room. I look the few feet that separate us from where Denton is now standing with his hands on his hips.
“Fuck yeah, I did,” I say with a smile. Just thinking about the ingenious idea I had around not only the first spotlight, but also what will be the signature drink. “How do you feel about lollipops, gentlemen?” I ask.
“What the hell are you talking about, Nate?” Denton calls down before bending at the waist and sitting on the edge of the wooden bar top.
“Lollipops, how do you like them?” I ask, again.
Seven sets of eyes just blink at me, clearly not following my train of thought. Nothing new there.
“Fine.” I sigh with fake exasperation. “How about I show you what I’m talking about?”
“Might be a good idea since you lost us when you started talking about candy,” Shane jokes, earning a laugh from the others.
“Where is everyone else?” I ask, getting up and walking across the large open space toward the platform in the corner where the DJ booth and sound system are set up.
“All the girls are in the holding room finishing up their uniform fittings with Hilary. She was finishing up the last I went in there, though, so you should be good.”
I give Shane a nod while looking through the extensive list of songs we have on our playlist software—another program I created. Finding the song I need, I set the timer before turning up the volume, making sure to engage all the speakers and subwoofers before making my way behind the main bar.
“Do me a favor, Trav, and go get the girls. Get off my bar, Dent.”