Downstairs Jimmy was instructing the DJ. Not that the young scut thought he needed it of course, but it had to be done.
"Louder," Jimmy bellowed. "No, louder!"
They both head banged away to the end of the track and Jimmy beamed then shouted into the sudden quiet. "See, if they have to scream at each other to be heard they get thirsty and THAT'S where we make the money. Drinks - not the fucking cover charge."
The DJ nodded, probably hating that Jimmy was trying to tell him his business, and Jimmy grinned then turnd when he was hailed.
"'Lo Mitchell," he said. "Wasn't expecting to see you yet. 'Ow was Angola?"
"Thought I better report in person," Mitchell growled and jerked his head to the elevator. "Boss available?"
"Let's see," Jimmy said and waved to the DJ to carry on.
Once in the elevator he looked Mitchell over. He didn't look well. He might be even worse once Max had finished with him.