Billionaire or not, Oscar had a few minutes to wait before Grant arrived. He wasn’t surprised, as far as he knew, Grant was always on his own schedule and never on time. To keep his thoughts on business matters and not on Liz, Oscar ordered Mitch’s new laptop from an online retailer.
“Buddy,” Grant said his arms out wide as he approached the table. “How long has it been?” He made himself comfortable across from Oscar. “How’s the food business?”
Oscar got offended at the way Grant always under valued his accomplishments. Successfully acquiring and revamping a dozen restaurants was no small feet and he’d gained a billionaire status doing it. All Grant did to gain his fortune was perfect the art of glass blowing and salesmanship.
“They’re restaurants and doing quite well.” Oscar offered his hand across the table for a hearty man handshake. “I could call in some favors and help with this place.”
“Laugh, ha.” Grant choked out a scoff. “It’s all about taste.” Grant released his grip and clapped his palms together. “What can I do for you? Wait.” He flagged down a waitress. “Bring me a glass of white.”
Oscar waited for Grant to finish sizing up the waitress and turn his attention back to him. Then he gave his pitch. “I’m opening a French bistro in Vegas. It’s called Camille’s and will be themed around Monet and his works of art. Can I commission you to do a glass blown sculpture centerpiece for the dining area?”
“Monet? I love his impressionist style.” The waitress returned with the wine and Grant had to stop and address her. “Are you new here darling? When did I hire you?”
She was a pretty little ash blonde, but something about her distracted Grant. “Stand up.” He raised his hand, palm up to Oscar. He grimaced, but stood. The waitress was about the same height. “That’s it. You can go.”
The young girl walked off with her tray. “She’s not up to my standards. Her hair, her stature. I hate to fire her during her first week, but I have an image here.”
“Which you can uphold with a good waitress who’s a few inches shorter than the others.”
“Ehh. Do you need a server at any of your locations?”
“The steakhouse maybe.”
“Settled. Now what kind of time line are we looking at for the piece?” Grant made decisions fast and got right back to the undecided details of Oscar’s offer.
“Winter time is slow in Vegas. I’d like to open before the holidays, but before Valentine’s day is probably more reasonable.”
“Open timeline. That’s risky in business. For you, of course I’ll move things around and get started on some sketches. Maybe we can meet at the site in a few weeks.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They sealed the deal with a toast clinking their wine and water glasses together. “How the hell are you otherwise?”
Oscar wasn’t that close to Grant. They’d worked together on a few projects. And billionaires attended the same charity functions, usually, but Oscar and Grant lived very different lives. While Oscar hid in the shadows of his money, Grant shouted from the rooftops with his. He wasn’t a bad guy, far from it, he just liked to spend the money he made. The best clothes, cars, jewelry, and services money could afford. Luxurious living was an artwork that Grant perfected.
“You still painting your love on many canvases?”
“Never did. But I have met someone.” Oscar sipped his water. His lip curled up into a smile as he thought of Liz. “She’s amazing, beautiful, and recently divorced. Like me, she’s looking for a second chance at love.”
“How recent?” Grant asked, tipping up his wine glass for a drink.
“Technically she’s still married, but the final hearing is this week.”
“Whoa slow down cowboy. How are you? You know? If she’s married.”
Sex always had to come up with Grant. He was very open about the subject and Oscar had heard of wild parties he’d thrown in his early days of being a billionaire. The years had settled him, but he still never shied away from the subject.
“We haven’t had sex yet. Not that I don’t want to. She’s hot and I was so close giving in and taking her home last night, but we were at the Buckeye and—”
“Don’t take her to that dump. Don’t you know how to treat a woman? You have to take a trip to Vegas soon. Take her along. Show her the sights. Slip into the big bed and room service.” He shimmied his shoulders and flashed his eyebrows with a goofy grin on his face.
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
Shit do I really want to get into this? I need to ask someone and Grant has experience with the billionaire effect. “
Vegas wouldn’t be the best idea at this point.”
“Right, the ex husband thing.”
“It’s more like the billionaire thing. She doesn’t know.”
Grant’s mouth dropped open. He stared at him, processing. “How blind are you? How could she not know?” He scratched his head. “What the hell have you gotten into?”
“I’ve only seen her at the Buckeye and I said I was a bartender. I’m not lying.”
Grant was nearly out of his seat, leaning forward. “You’re a billionaire! She had to have googled you. All women do.”
Oscar waved his hands in the air like a mad man. “My daughter wiped all my social media. Supposedly I’m safe.”
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“Her ex is a materialistic asshole and she’s looking for a regular guy. And I’m looking for a woman who loves me for me, not billionaire wealthy take me away from this all boyfriend. Is this too much to ask?”
“No. I wish you luck. Maybe you’re onto something.” Grant finished his wine. “Seriously, are you going to hire that waitress? Cause she has to go.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Oscar stood and Grant followed his lead. “We’ll keep in touch and get together in Vegas to finalize details for the sculpture soon.”
He’d survived another meeting with Grant. Oscar twisted out of the suit coat and tossed it in the back seat of his truck for the drive home. He entertained the idea of taking Liz to Vegas for a while, but returned to earth pretty quickly as he pulled up to the Buckeye parking lot.
Nope. I still can’t tell her. Maybe I can get Nana to do it. She wouldn’t get mad at a ninety-two year old lady would she?
Chapter Nineteen
Just like Mitch said, Liz returned the next night. It was a Tuesday and surprisingly the parking lot was full, but she lucked out and found a place in the front lot on the second drive around.
“Liz!” Mitch led the outburst, followed by echoes of her name from every direction. The announcement pleased and tickled her. Without straining her eyes, she saw Mitch sitting sideways in his usual spot. Walking up to him, she noticed he was the only one in his place, the rest of the regulars had shifted for the evening.
There was a large group of young adults near the front window playing beer pong. It was set up over a piece of plywood covering the pool table. This displaced the trio to a cramped space in the dark corner to her left. When she spotted the guys, they waved their beers in her direction. The tables in the middle were packed with both men and women drinkers, cell phones in hands, lighting up the place.
“We knew you’d be back,” Angela said, pausing near Liz with a tray of beers.
“Couldn’t stay away; I guess I should have,” she half-shouted over the crowd.
Angela nudged her to stick close, then served the drinks to a table of men in suits with loosened ties. “We get a good crowd during Beer Pong tournaments.”
“That’s it. Wouldn’t of guessed a Tuesday would be this packed.”
“Never busy enough. Someone’s saving you a seat.” She motioned behind her. “You’d better get over there.”
Mitch was watching her every move and patted the seat next to him when she looked his way. Directly past him, behind the bar, Oscar mixed drinks. Flexing a shaker above his head he took Liz’s breath away as he shook the metal container back and forth. He poured the contents in a glass, his eyes met hers and a smile shot across his face.
“You made it in early tonight.” Mitch spoke first. “Too early to get a bet in.”
“Mitch, you didn’t?” Liz swatted at his shoulder and made herself comfy.
“Nah.”
“Hi gorgeous,” Oscar said, pouring out the contents of another drink through a strainer. He set it on a tray with four others and pounded on the bar. “Orders up.”
The sudden outburst startled Liz and she jumped in her seat.
“Sorry.” Oscar leaned in close. “I’m glad you came back.” He kissed her quick and soft, before starting the next round of drinks. He snapped the cap off a bottle of beer, set it on a tray, opened two more and filled a glass with ice water. “Angela! Orders up!” He pounded the bar again to get her attention, even though she was standing just a few feet away.
Angela chucked the empty tray in her hand behind the bar, and lifted up the full tray of mixed drinks. She sneered, then walked off.
“Damn you’re sexy,” Oscar said, kissing her again. “Stick around awhile.” He placed a Rum & Coke on the counter. “On the house.”
“At these prices, I have all night,” she teased and sipped from the little red straw.
“Great.” He poured a pint of beer from the tap and served it to Mitch. “Keep her smiling for me,” Oscar said before starting a new round of drinks for a second waitress. She was not too tall with ash blonde hair.
“You here that? You’re mine tonight.”
“Looks that way.” She sat sideways facing Mitch on the last barstool—the one Andy watched the game from the first night. “Where’s baseball dude?”
“Andy? Seasons over. He’ll be back in, just not when it’s busy. He hates crowds.” Mitch held his face up to hers, so she could hear him over the noise. His silver whiskers tickled her cheek with every word he spoke. “I like you in stripes,” he said, allowing his finger to follow a navy line down the sleeve of her button down blouse, before jumping his hand to her thigh, which she picked up and moved back to his own leg.
Angela popped her head between the two. “Look who just came in.”
Mitch and Liz both pivoted to face the door. Without an announcement from the crowd, a skinny woman with short hair and a larger woman dressed in a black outfit that looked like it fit a few pounds ago, made their way to a table.
“Why do they just get to walk in?” Liz asked.
“She hates the name calling.”
The pair sat at the table in front of the music machine, not far from the front door. The skinny woman waved to the pool table trio in the corner. The larger woman settled herself against the wall without acknowledging anyone in the bar existed.
“Damn, now I have to go serve her.”
“Who is she?” Liz asked Mitch about the woman in black, assuming she and not the skinny one was the target of Angela’s attitude.
“Angela!” Oscar shouted, before raising up from under the counter to see she was standing at the bar.
“Does he yell all night?”
“It’s his way of pretending he’s—in—control.” Angela emphasized the last three words before sticking out her tongue.
“Hold that. I need you to take over back here.” Oscar untied his apron and passed it over to Angela.
“But I have tables.”
“The piece of shit ice machine quit working again. You can’t serve drinks without ice.” He tossed a few cubes out at her. “Sorry, Liz. I have to take care of this. Be back in ten. Tops.” He lifted the bar divider and left out the back door in a hurry.
Liz turned her attention back to inquiring about the mystery woman who apparently was a whole heap of trouble. “Now, who is she?” she asked Mitch.
“Just Momma Bear Gayle. Stay away from her.”
“Why?”
“Give me a peek and I’ll tell you,” he said, fingering her cleavage.
She pulled his index finger away, and kissed it, adding a slight suck to the tip. “I guess I don’t need to know.”
“Oh, you need to know.” Mitch lifted his drink up to his lips.
“Is she the one Dina mentioned?” Liz covered his glass with her hand.
He kissed it and lowered the glass. “Yes. She thinks Oscar’s her man.”
“And Dina told her about me.”
“They were in here over the weekend, cackling and moaning about how you’d caught Oscar’s attention. Gayle’s itching to get a look at you.”
As if on cue and screeching out over the crowd, Gayle exclaimed, “Where’s the bitch?”
Without turning across the dark bar in her direction, Liz’s instinct told her she was the bitch, Gayle was growling about.
If it wasn’t clear before, it was now perfectly clear that Liz had disturbed the balance of the Buckeye with her first visit. With Oscar out of the building getting ice, Liz had to face this momma bear on her own. She downed the rest of her drink and adjusted her cleavage. “How do the girls looks?”
Mitch gave her a thumbs up. She threw her shoulders back and strutted over to face the big black momma bear who was waiting to devour her.
Chapter Twenty
When she’d gotten too close, Gayle kicked out an extra chair into the aisle to stop her. The large angry woman sat back, arms folded against her chest, and scanned Liz from head to toe. “So you’re, Liz.”
Keeping her distance behind the obstacle pushed in front of her, Liz used it to her advantage. She bent over the chair back, tucked her elbows in, pushed her breasts out, and answered. “That’s what Oscar whispers in my ear at night.”
“Hot damn. Did you hear that?” the skinny woman said with a slap on her leg.
“Shut up, Helen,” Gayle snapped.
It was Liz’s turn to scan Gayle. Up close it was clear she wore black as an illusion to appear thin. This overused misconception was muted by the fact that her clothes were two sizes too small for her body.
Further examination, Liz noticed that Gayle’s hair was over sprayed in the front and her lashes were caked in layers of blue mascara. With a little help on her dress and attitude, Gayle might be able to snag someone, but not Oscar.
“Are you still here?” she challenged.
“I’m not leaving.”
“You’re in the wrong bar.”
“I don’t think so.” Liz looked around casually. “I like it here. Feels like home.”
Helen grabbed Liz’s arm, “Did you screw him? I’ll bet he’s a good in bed.”
“I said shut up, Helen.” Gayle kicked at her and must’ve hit her shin. Helen tightened her grip on Liz’s arm and winced in pain.