Brandon stood behind the bar. They were physically ready with the establishment, but didn't have any staff. Well other than himself (and of course Christian) and he was ready to make a few tips for the club. Christian and Brandon had hired several consulting companies to assist with the decor, liquor menu, music...the whole shebang.<br/><br/>Looking in the mirror wall behind the liquor Brandon managed to still look amazing while doing work....er...supervising. Christian was the one that really pushed people around, Brandon smiled and consoled. It was like an award winning rendition of good cop - bad cop.<br/><br/>His vanity was interrupted by a voice from behind him.<br/><br/>Brandon turned to stare into a tough street version of a Greek God. If Christian was the epitome of preppy-gods than the vision before Brandon was the epitome of daddy-gods. He looked like he could slap around a few gays and probably have some fun doing it.<br/><br/>"Hello there," Brandon said coming from around the bar with his innocent-boy smile. He paid no attention to the rough facade and ran his fingers along the tattoos that inked the stud's arms. He linked his arm around a bicep. "It's yours." Brandon had no street smarts, totally oblivious to the world. To him everything was a shopping spree at Nordstroms.<br/><br/>Brandon escorted the beefcake behind the scenes where Christian was giving orders.<br/><br/>"Christian, look, our bouncer has arrived." Brandon beamed as though he'd solved all their problems.