On the Rocks (Manhattan Bossholes #2)

1. Cora

1

CORA

“ A nd that concludes the bracket!” the judge announced. “Let’s give all our participants a round of applause and get the next group up here!”

I walked out from behind the bar, buzzing with adrenaline as I readjusted the black masquerade-style half mask over my eyes, keeping my alter ego persona in place. The Masked Mixer was having a great night, which meant I was having a great night—mixing drinks with my signature flair in front of a live audience for a change, instead of just on my socials.

“Look at you go!” Jennifer squealed, skipping across the bar toward me. “My brilliant little round one winner!” She wrapped me in a hug that smelled of maraschino cherries and grenadine. For all her culinary skills and refined palate claims, her drink of choice was a Dirty Shirley, of all things, but I loved my bestie too much to hold it against her.

“I haven’t technically won anything yet,” I said, laughing as she tried to squeeze the air out of me. I liked tipsy Jenn. “Remember? The point of this bracket is not to get eliminated, so I can advance to the next round.”

“Whatever,” Jennifer said, swaying back and forth with me, nearly walking us into one of the tall vases that filled the space with lush greenery. “You still kicked major ass up there.”

I grinned. I didn’t want to toot my own horn, but we both knew I’d easily crushed the competition during this first round.

“ A drink to have before dumping a jerk was such a good category,” Jennifer said. “And your red chili zest was an inspired touch! I wonder what the next one will be?”

“Something spooky, I hope. They have a smoke machine up there, and I want an excuse to use it.”

“I love a good smoke machine,” Jennifer agreed, tugging me between the throng of bodies surrounding the bar to watch the next bracket of contestants. “A guy in the crowd was calling you the Mixology Mistress like a dumbass. I had to correct him. Like how hard is it to remember the name Masked Mixer when you literally wear a mask?”

I chuckled. The mask I wore in all my mixology videos had started as a gag—a bit of the costume I’d still been wearing after coming home from a godawful Halloween party that served the worst Zombies I’d ever tasted. I’d felt like I had to make a video of how to do it right…and that video blew up, and my alter ego was born.

Jennifer swayed to the side, and I reached out to steady her. “I think you’re a little drunk.” Jennifer was usually wound tighter than a clock, so I was glad she’d decided to let loose. “How many Dirty Shirleys have you had?”

“I can still see straight, so not nearly enough.” She dragged me back to the table we’d secured upon arriving at Bottom of the Barrel, a new specialty cocktail bar that was hosting the mixology contest to kick off their opening night launch. “Sit,” she said, patting my stool. “In preparation for the next round, I have ordered us a shit-ton of food. We need you fueled up and strong to win that cash prize!”

It would be nice to make some money as the Masked Mixer for a change. For my content, I had to source all my ingredients, and they didn’t always come cheap. I loved my videos, loved the chance to create new and fun drinks and share them with the world, but I’d also love to finally save up enough for the literary-hideaway themed speakeasy of my dreams. And that wouldn’t happen if I kept burning through the earnings from my “real” job as a bartender on everything the Masked Mixer needed.

But maybe tonight was the start of something new. Maybe the Masked Mixer would start getting gigs on the regular, competing in contests or making paid appearances. Maybe tonight would be the night when things finally got on the right track for me.

A waitress set a tray of appetizers between us. Jennifer’s eyes lit up. “Finally!”

I reached out to grab a french fry, but just as I bit into it, I caught what the women at the table behind me were saying.

“—call him the Cocktail King, you know. And man, I wouldn’t mind getting that cock in my tail.”

Salty, fried deliciousness turned sour in my mouth as I realized who they were talking about.

“I know !” the other woman replied. “He’s so freaking hot on the GQ cover. Even if they have his crotch, like, shadowed in all the pictures, he still looks like he’s packing, right?”

“Totally!” her friend agreed. “How many inches, do you think?”

I could have told them. I knew the exact dimensions of one Aiden Callihan—CEO of Elixir, known as the Cocktail King. It had been years...but a girl never forgets her first time.

Never forgets the first asshole to break her heart either.

And it didn’t help that that damn GQ cover seemed to be everywhere lately. When a girl is heading home after a hellishly long night tending bar, the last thing she wants to see is a giant image of her ex smirking at her from the ad on the side of a bus, you know? Like he was saying, “Hi, remember me? The jerk who dumped you with no explanation? I’m super rich and successful now. Wanna hear how rich and successful I am? There’s a whole freaking magazine article about how I basically rule the world. On sale now at your nearest Duane Reade.” Ugh.

Across the table, Jenn was frowning at me. “You look like you just ate a cockroach. Yeah, the fries are pretty shitty—I could make better apps with my eyes closed and a concussion—but they’re not that gross.”

“It’s…it’s nothing,” I said, determined to shake it off. “I was just thinking you could make better apps with your eyes closed, a concussion, and one hand tied behind your back.”

“Hell yes,” she agreed, stuffing a few more fries in her mouth. “Have one of the tacos—they’re mildly less shitty than the fries.”

I laughed, putting thoughts of Aiden out of my mind as I grabbed an only-moderately-shitty taco. Aiden was nothing more than part of my past. I wasn’t going to let him screw up this night for me.

“Samantha! Samantha !” shrieked the woman from the table behind me. “He’s here. Oh my god, he’s here! He just walked in! How’s my hair? How do my boobs look? Do you think he likes blondes? He has to, right? Who doesn’t? So what should I do? Maybe I go over there and just say, ‘I’ve been looking for a big cocktail.’ That sounds good, right?”

A ball of ice formed in my stomach as I looked over at the door. A noisy group had just entered, clad in tight clothing and glitter, practically screaming social media. But there at the back of the group was a face I knew all too well. I suddenly wanted to be anywhere else in the world. What in the nine circles of hell was happening?

“What is it?” Jennifer asked. “What are you looking at? Oh. Oh, god ! Wait.” She whipped her head around, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. “Isn’t that?—”

“Yes,” I said. Aiden Callihan, in the flesh.

Fuck my life.

“ Hoooooly shit ,” Jennifer crowed. She knew the whole story—or at least, as much of the story as I knew, given the radio fucking silence I’d gotten from him after our high school breakup. “How long’s it been?”

“Since I’ve seen him in person? Years now.”

“I wonder what he’s doing here.”

“Besides crashing my event? I don’t know.” Okay, I knew it wasn’t my event. But damnit, this was supposed to be my night—my chance to kick my life into a whole new gear. Him showing up was like a neon, blinking sign from fate saying Nope, you’re not allowed to have nice things. “Don’t they have some snooty bar for the mega-rich he can go to?”

Jennifer tilted her head, admiring him. “Wow, they really didn’t have to airbrush him at all for that magazine cover, did they?”

“Shut up.” I peered out between my fingers. She was right. He looked even better than he did on all those billboards and bus signs. I didn’t want to admit his jaw was really that chiseled or his eyes were that blue or his hair was actually lush and a perfect shade of golden blond. I remembered twisting my fingers through those curls as a teenager.

“Okay, I know you hate his guts, but like, wow ,” Jennifer continued. “He’s like a walking reminder that I haven’t had sex in…” She slurped her drink. “Too freaking long.”

I still couldn’t believe it. Of all the damn bars in Manhattan, why did he have to show up at this one?

Jennifer waggled her brows at me. “He’s gonna walk right past us.”

“Unfortunately.” I averted my gaze.

“No, wait, he’s coming over here,” she said, sounding both intrigued and concerned.

“Like here here?” Shit . I could taste the bile in the back of my throat. It tasted like panic.

“Like he’s walking right up to our table. Now he’s looking at you. Oh, god. What should we do?”

I chanced another glance and swore under my breath as I caught his eye. His face morphed into something like a smile as he closed the distance between us, but I could tell he was anything but happy as the crowd jostled him. Some girl bumped into him, sloshing her drink, and his mask dropped, a grimace momentarily clouding his features as he smoothed his hand down the front of his jacket. So that hadn’t changed—he still hated this kind of scene. But that begged the question of what he was doing here, looking like he was a man with a mission that ticked him off.

By the time he reached us, he’d painted on that tight smile again. “Wow!” Aiden exclaimed. “I mean, this is such a surprise. I can’t believe you’re here.”

I stiffened, opening my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“I did not expect to be in the presence of the Masked Mixer tonight,” he continued. “My night just got a whole lot better.”

Jennifer slurped her drink noisily.

I’d been working hard to be stone-faced, to give nothing away, but my jaw dropped. What the absolute hell? He didn’t recognize me! Well, he did, but only as the Masked Mixer. So not only had I been dumpable all those years ago, but I was forgettable too? Why not give me some papercuts and spritz lemon juice over them, asshole? Was this flimsy little mask really enough to hide my identity from someone who used to tell me that looking into my eyes was like looking at the stars?

Blah . I wanted to throw something—a drink, preferably—at that too-perfect face and watch it drip off that chiseled jaw, messing up his probably-designer clothes. But that would be a waste of a good drink.

He leaned against our table, close enough for those blue eyes of his to twinkle under the elaborate lighting rig overhead. His eyes shouldn’t be allowed to twinkle like that. “I’ve heard some amazing things about you.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, trying not to grimace in response. Save it, Mr. Elixir. I know your games.

“Yeah.”

“And what’s that?” Jennifer asked.

I threw her the mother of all glares. She hiccuped and covered her mouth.

“That you mix a mean drink,” Aiden teased.

Well, no fucking shit . Not as if I haven’t built my entire brand around that very thing.

“I’m sure you’ll easily sweep this contest. I doubt there’s anyone here who can hold a candle to you.” He was trying to lay on the charm, but I still knew how to tell when his smile was faked. This one looked flat, practiced. So he didn’t remember me, he was trying to hit on me for whatever reason, and he didn’t even mean it? Gee, just when I thought he couldn’t possibly piss me off more…

“We’ll see,” I said dismissively, hoping to end this conversation. Just go away already , I pleaded silently. There’s a dumb blonde with awful pickup lines only a few feet away who’d love for you to flash that empty, soulless smile at her. Go bother her instead.

“But how great would it be to win?” he said.

Jennifer nodded, chasing a cherry at the bottom of her glass. “So great.”

I shot her a heated glare that said keep it together . She was officially cut off. No more Dirty Shirleys for her.

Aiden glanced at Jennifer, then turned to me again. “Your followers probably expect nothing less. But you know what would be even better?”

I’m sure he was about to enlighten me.

“If you won the contest using Elixir in your creations,” he said.

Ahh, okay. So that’s what this was all about. That was why the guy who took my virginity and now didn’t remember me was over here pretending to flirt. I was a business opportunity, nothing more. A vehicle for a bunch of free marketing for his stupid alcohol brand.

There was no end to how much he was going to piss me off tonight.

“It makes a really smooth cocktail,” he continued. “That’s what everyone says.”

I snorted. “I’ve literally never heard anyone say that,” I lied before turning to Jennifer. “Have you?”

She shrugged, halfway through another Dirty Shirley.

The corners of Aiden’s mouth tightened. Point to me. “You’re sure?” His voice was thin, on the verge of pissed. “It’s on our packaging and everything.”

“That’s called false advertising,” I said, enjoying the way his face struggled to maintain its composure. “And in my experience, a lot of packages lie.” I gave him a long, deliberate look up and down. “You can dress them up all fancy, but they’re never as impressive as what people claim.”

And sure, that was a lie, too—but I knew how to sell a lie, and I managed to smirk like I meant every word. I saw his jaw clench in response. Oooh, he was getting really annoyed. Another point to me, I thought, my smirk widening.

Aiden at seventeen probably would have blown his top by this point, but it looked like he’d learned to get a better handle on himself. “Well,” he said, holding up a large bottle of Elixir I hadn’t noticed he was carrying. He presented it to me, practically shoving it in my face. “You should definitely give it a try. I think you’ll be inspired by our products.”

Oh, he thinks I’ll be inspired by Elixir, does he? Ha!

“Consider this our thank you for adding Elixir to your drinks today,” he said.

“Did I say I was going to do that?” I shoved his hands and the bottle away. “I don’t want your liquor.”

Confusion knit his brows together. “This is a limited edition, tenth anniversary bottle.”

“So?”

“You can’t even buy these on the shelf!” he said, clearly exasperated.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“You’re supposed to say thank you.” His words were close to a growl.

A noise of disbelief exploded from me. “Thank you for what? Intruding on my break uninvited and trying to pawn a bottle of Elixir off on me that I don’t want?”

“We had to make a special trip to the warehouse to retrieve this,” he snapped.

“Oh, you poor thing. What are you, a dog? Am I supposed to give you a treat for playing fetch?” I taunted.

Frustration inched into his features. I could see it in the fine lines across his forehead, the hard set of his jaw, and the way his shoulders inched up by his ears. Clearly, he’d expected me to gush with gratitude. But as far as I was concerned, he could shove that bottle where the sun didn’t shine.

His nostrils flared as he thumped the bottle down on the table. Beside me, Jennifer jumped. Aiden shoved the Elixir back in my direction. “This is a gift.”

I pushed the bottle away again. “And this is me refusing your gift.”

“You can’t refuse it. This bottle was selected specifically with you in mind.”

I snorted. Yeah, because he knew me—sorry, knew the Masked Mixer so well. “Let me say this in a way you’ll understand: I don’t accept gifts from brands I have no intention of working with. Me and Elixir are a no-go.” He wasn’t the first to try to butter me up with gifts to convince me to tie my name to their brand, but I had a firm policy of saying no. A lot of companies were selling products I honestly wouldn’t endorse, and I wasn’t willing to stake my reputation on just anything.

That wasn’t the case with Elixir—I could admit that. It was a good product. But it was his product, and I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.

That tightly held mask Aiden wore fractured a little more. He wasn’t taking the rejection well. Aww, poor baby …I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from laughing.

“And why would you not want to work with Elixir?” he demanded.

I rolled my eyes. “How much time do you have?”

His hand clenched into a fist where it rested on the table. “Just take the goddamn bottle!”

“No. And last time I checked, that was a complete sentence.”

Aiden crossed his arms, looming over me. “Well, I’m not taking it back. And I’d hate for it to go to waste. So you might as well just accept it.”

God! What was it going to take for this asshole to get a clue? I didn’t want to work with him or his stupid company, and like hell was I going to stand up in front of the massive crowd who’d gathered for this contest holding a bottle of Elixir. My gaze drifted to a guy walking toward our table. He wore a button on his shirt that said Birthday Boy. How fucking perfect. A smug smile stretched across my face. I grabbed the Elixir bottle and shoved it into the guy’s arms as he passed. He blinked at me for a beat. So did Aiden. “Happy Birthday!” I said, giving him an overly cheery smile.

“Yo!” the guy yelled to his friends, grinning like a tipsy fool as he lifted the bottle over his head. “Masked Mixer just gifted us a bottle!” There was a subsequent cheer from a table across the bar. He stumbled off with Aiden’s limited edition, tenth anniversary bottle.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Aiden snapped. I could practically see the angry wheels spinning behind his eyes.

“It’s called a birthday present,” I said. “And it sounds like you really made their night, Mr. Cocktail King.”

“That wasn’t meant for them,” he all but snarled.

I shrugged. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want it to go to waste.”

He huffed like a growl had gotten caught behind his teeth. He was definitely pissed off now. Good. Maybe now he’d take his stupid-hot self somewhere else and leave me the hell alone.

“Round two participants!” the host announced into the mic. “Last call! Please make your way to the bar.”

“That’s you!” Jennifer said excitedly, reaching across the table to nudge my arm.

Last call? I jumped off my stool. I’d almost missed the round because I was too busy being annoyed by Aiden. I was not going to let him mess with my head like he did back in the day. Not again. And especially not now, when I had a contest to win.

“Wait,” he said as I hurried past him, heading for the bar. He gestured after the birthday boy. “The bottle!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said in my most condescending tone, looking from the birthday boy’s table to Aiden. “They’re so drunk already I’m sure they won’t notice Elixir’s awful aftertaste.”

Aiden’s face twisted into a snarl. I turned away, grimly satisfied, and made my way over to my round two workstation.

Another point to me .