“How can I be sure? It’s not like I can prove my love with any grand gestures. I can’t use any of my billions to win her over. I’d become the man she ran away from.”
“Not necessarily.” He scribbled again on the paper. “Just a little dialog. I don’t want to forget any of this. What I heard was quite the opposite. She wants you Oscar. Whatever you are. Rich, poor, it’s irrelevant. She loves every part of you, she just doesn’t know she loves the billionaire. Show her the truth. That you’re one man.”
“How?”
“I can’t write your story. There’s not enough sex. Speaking of that.” He picked up his pen again and bounced his eyebrows up.
“No I will not give you details.”
“Fair enough.” He draped his arm over Oscar’s shoulder. “That drunk bitch, Dina. I knew she’d be our weak link.”
“Truth, but I have more to work out.” Oscar started out the back door to the gate. Mitch followed him. “Can you call Angela in to work tonight? I’m not ready to head into the Buckeye yet.”
“Yeah I’m sure Dina told Gayle and she told Helen, who let it slip to the trio. When you do come in there’ll be plenty of “I told you so” toasts,” he said hanging on to the chain link fence.
“Not once did I ever think there’d be a problem that a night at the Buckeye couldn’t help find a solution for. This one.” Oscar shook his head. This situation was different and Oscar knew it. “Have one on me tonight, Mitch.” He waved and walked the lonely path down the alley to his truck parked in the lot behind Berto’s.
He needed to check in with Dan and Casey in Vegas, but he couldn’t focus on a new project. Not when his relationship with Liz dangled by a thread. He couldn’t call her either. He’d overheard her telling Mitch her phone broke.
I bet that was because of me. I made her that mad? You’re such a heel Oscar. Be a billionaire. Buy her a new one. Drop it off. Bullshit. She’s not going to accept anything from me for awhile. How can I convince material gifts are not buying her love?
Oscar pondered and drove and soon found himself in a familiar place.
He was at the one place where he enjoyed being at the most and at the one time of day he felt the most at peace. The Westwall Tower and the adjacent parking garage were still open for the day, so the guard waved Oscar through the gate. It wasn’t quite sunset yet. He’d need every second of the sun’s last moments to straighten out the thoughts battling in his mind.
Beside facing his friends at the Buckeye, Oscar wasn’t ready to face his daughter. She’d texted when he didn’t come home and he told her the truth. He just didn’t give a reason why he’d stayed over at Mitch’s. He hoped she’d think it was to take care of him.
She tried to warn me when she purged my social presence.
“You can’t fully be erased off the internet.”
She was right, but she’s my baby and she tried to help.
He parked and pulled the tailgate down. Siting on the edge he gazed out to the city beyond him. In the distance past the city lights flickering, the sun was dipping down into the horizon and filling the sky with a deep orange hue.
“Why did I do all this? Build an empire. Just to despise it. I’d give it all away for her. If that would mean we could be together.”
The sunset was the one ear listening intently to his pleas. He hopped up and paced like he did on the first day he’d met Liz. He begged for her to love him. But on that fateful night, he had the cushion of the unknown. Tonight things were different. He knew down deep that he loved Liz and it hurt that much more to be back on this roof begging to have her love him.
While he struggled, the sun snuck down past the horizon, refusing to answer. Oscar was annoyed as hell. He wanted. No he demanded answers. But the sliver of sun had none for him. And he couldn’t conjure any for himself either.
One other place talked to him before. A familiar smooth glass filled with liquid had answers for him at another difficult time in his life. He turned to the tower behind him. The neon light of the Wine Club at the Preston Hotel, emitted a welcome greeting to the recovered alcoholic in need of answers.
Oscar strode across the lot to the elevator. On the ride down to the ground level, he entertained the idea of how well a rooftop patio dining space would do.
This is the best view in town.
Before exiting, he made a note in his phone to call his realtor about possibly renovating the penthouse suite of the Westwall Tower.
It was a short walk from the elevator, across a courtyard, past the circle drive of the Preston Hotel, in to the lobby, and over to the bar.
“Give me a shot a whiskey,” he said to the petite female bartender. “We serve wine.
It’s a wine club”
He sighed and pointed to the male bartender. “Let me talk to him.”
“Yes sir,” the bartender nodded.
“I asked for a shot of whiskey. Can you provide me with that drink?” He produced a coin from his pocket and pushed it across the counter with one finger.
“Are you sure you want to do that sir?” The bartender paused, but set the glass down on the counter in front of him. “How many years?” He held the bottle up to pour.
“The drink and step away.”
The glass was ready, but it wasn’t talking. Oscar stared at the dark brown substance. Willing it to speak to him.
Don’t make me remember you.
He scraped his coin around the rim.
Just one answer.
He tapped the coin against the glass.
Don’t do it. She loves you. This she won’t forgive.
He dropped the coin, it splashed down to the bottom of the glass with a clunk.
“You’re a new here,” he said to the girl behind the bar. “Take this.” He gave her a card with the number of the manager of Gerald’s Steakhouse on it. “When you don’t fit in at the Wine Club, call him. Now give me an unopened bottle of your best scotch.” Oscar rose to pay and leave.
“Weren’t not supposed to . . .”
“Grant’s going to fire you because your hair is too short.” He threw enough hundred dollars bills at her to cover the cost and tucked the bottle of scotch under his arm. “When he calls you into his office, tell him Oscar said his taste in Scotch is shit.”
Chapter Forty One
“What’s this!” an outrage boomed from his daughter, arousing Oscar awake. He shook his eyes open. She was standing at the foot of his bed. “An empty bottle of scotch?” She flung the bottle in question across the room. It crashed against the wall, shattering to many pieces.
“Stacie. It’s not what it looks like.” Oscar sat up, pulling the covers up with him.
“No? Eight years! You’re throwing away everything? Your life? Your career? Your success? Cause that’s what alcohol takes.”
“Sit Stacie,” he commanded. She sat on the edge of the bed. “I had a hard night last night. The bottle is empty, but I didn’t drink it.”
“Honest?” She softened.
He looked into his daughter’s pleading eyes. He was telling the truth. Liz’s reaction drove him to buy the bottle, but he didn’t take a sip. “I’m still clean.”
“Then why was it here? Why was there a dirty shot glass next to it?”
“I hurt someone I care about. And she wouldn’t let me explain my actions.” He retold all that had happened between him and Liz to his daughter. How she found out he was a billionaire. The real reason he was with Mitch and why he felt like a loser.
“But dad you didn’t need the bottle.”
“I know sweetie. It was wrong.” He pulled her close to him on the bed and she tucked her feet in under the covers. He loved his daughter and never wanted her to think he’d come too close to temptation again. “I poured a shot for every time I could’ve told her about my money. For every time I failed, I poured the drink down the drain. The whole bottle emptied down the pipes. So many opportunities. And I let Dina tell her with a casual remark.”
“Oh, dad.” Stacie snuggled next to him, wrapping her arms around his chest. “She’ll forgive you. I’m sure she still loves you.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re a billionaire.” She laughed. “It’s kind of an excuse for stupid mistakes.”
“That doesn’t matter to Liz. Her husband was rich and she left him because of it.”
“You’re dense.” She thumped him on the forehead. “She’s not going to forgive you to get to your money. Your lie makes you a better person. She saw a divorced, recovering alcoholic, bartender, and still fell in love. The fact that you’re extremely successful and still who you are, makes you special. She sees that.”
“How are you so wonderful?” He kissed his daughter on the top of her head. “I know what I have to do. Get out.” He shook the covers.
Stacie hopped up, but turned back when she reached the doorway. “What are you planning?” she asked.
“You’ll see. I’m going to win her back. Bartender style with a billionaire’s cash backing.”
Revitalized with new hope, Oscar prepared to woo Liz back to him. He showered, dressed, and made secret plans on his phone. “Everything’s set. The last detail is finding Liz. Where would I find her?”
Downstairs his daughter was sitting on the sofa in the media room. “Do you want eggs?” he asked, walking past.
“No thank you,” she answered, looking up from her phone. She paused the television and joined him in the kitchen, by sitting at the center island. “Did you tell mom about her?”
“No, well sort of. We ran into her at the Saturday market.”
“She knows.” Stacie slid her phone over to him, showing her dad a text from her mom. Mom: Ran into your dad. Who is she?
“When did this happen?”
Stacie scrolled on her phone to show him the rest of the conversation. He glanced over the messages.
Stacie: IDK. Who’s who?
Mom: His girlfriend. Has she been sleeping at the house? He can’t do that to you. She’s after his money.
Stacie: Chill. Dad’s being cool.
“See I took care of it,” Stacie said, taking her phone back.
“Julie’s one to talk. How many men has revolved through her door?”
“Four.” Stacie answered casually. “But she didn’t care about them like you do Liz. Listen dad, I know you and mom are divorced. I’m not a little girl trying to get her parents back together. You should move on and I think it should be with Liz. I have to get to school. You going to be alright?”
“Go on.” Oscar waved her away, but stopped her at the door. “Do you want to meet her?”
“Of course. Invite her over,” Stacie, said, rushing upstairs.
Invite her over.
He surveyed his large Tuscan styled kitchen.
It’s impressive, but I have another kitchen I’d like to show her first. In Vegas. I have to find her.
Oscar sat down to do a web search on Liz. Normally he preferred to get his information from the people in his life and not a screen, but he intended to call her work and found the number for the Symsco Corporation pretty easy online.
“There she is.” Oscar held his finger on the screen and called the number for the office. When her assistant, Marla answered, he asked, “Hello, I’m looking for Liz Martin.”
“She’s not in today. Can I take a message?” Marla politely said.
“No, I’ll check her cell. Thank you.” Oscar hung up. “I guess I should cancel the flowers being sent to her office. Wonder if she got her phone fixed? Doesn’t matter. She won’t answer. Now what? Not Bill. It’s too early for him to answer.”
“Who are you talking to? Stacie asked, returning. “Hey thanks for bringing my charger to grandpa’s. I would’ve died.” She wrapped her headphones around her knuckles and placed them in her backpack for school.
“No problem. By the way, is your mom currently seeing someone? Is that why you were at dad’s?”
“Nah. The kitchen’s all messed up with her scrubs and facial mask concoctions. It’s toxic.”
“I invested money for her to rent a place to do that. Away from home.”
Stacie flung her backpack over her shoulder and walked to the front door with her dad following. “She says it relaxes her.”
“I’m sorry sweetie.” He went to kiss her goodbye, but she flinched and tilted her head out to her friend waiting in the circle drive. “Right.”
“Just make things right with Liz. So you can bring her over for introductions.” She ran off waving.
Chapter Forty Two
Two days of working from home and not getting over Oscar had depressed Liz more than she’d ever been married to Chris. On Wednesday morning she headed out for a morning meeting she’d scheduled on purpose to get back to life. With a hazelnut macchiato and a bagel with peanut butter in hand, she stepped off the elevator to face the real world again. “Marla, make sure I’m not disturbed until the presentation.”
“Sure but there’s a delivery that came yesterday in your office.” Marla stood and clasped her hands behind her back, watching Liz open the door.
“What has he done?” On her desk was a small bouquet of colored daisies like the ones he gave her before he went to Vegas without her and a present tied with a red bow.
“Open it,” Marla said, giddy behind her.
Liz stepped around and pulled the ribbon. She lifted the lid off. Her palm went straight to cover her mouth. “Oh,” She lifted up a note. “It’s digital, but hoping the other gift will remind you of good memories.”
Setting the note aside, she first lifted out a high quality digital camera. Then the item that took her breath away.
He remembered.
She pulled out a bottle of liquid photographic fixer, screwed off the lid and sniffed the ammonia smelling chemical.
“What is that stuff?”
“A thoughtful gift.” She fell down into her chair. “Damn, now I have to forgive him.”
‘You mean the sexy voice that called yesterday?”
“He called? What did you tell him?”
“You were out of the office. Who are we talking about?”
Liz thought twice about telling Marla about Oscar and the reason he was trying to gain her forgiveness. Announcing your boyfriend was a billionaire was not an office conversation, so she blew her off. “Some bartender I met. Can you give me some time?”
Marla excused herself, back to her own desk and after smelling the fixer one more time, Liz opened her laptop to search Oscar again. She continued to narrow her search parameters, focusing on articles from Westin. She wanted to read about Oscar before he’d gained his wealth. Turning back the clock was harder than she thought. Not everything was digital, but she found what she was looking for.