2. Aiden #2
She looked genuinely shocked, too stunned to speak. Aha. Got her.
“So twenty’s your number?” I asked. “Consider it done. Just tell me who to make the check out to, and—”
“I don’t want your goddamn money!” she yelled, eyes blazing.
I scoffed. Who was she kidding? Everyone wanted my money. Why was she pretending she was any different? “Of course you do. But it seems I haven’t stumbled upon the right number yet. Thirty thousand? Forty?”
“Go to hell!” she shouted.
“Oh, trust me, I am currently there. How about this? I’ll keep going up and you tell me where to stop.”
“Screw you!”
“Or maybe I’ll just sign my name, and you can fill in your own number. Will that help your conscience?”
“You can’t just buy me off,” she said, her voice rising.
“Everyone can be bought. That’s how the world works. You’re the one being difficult. Now just tell me how much money you want.”
“If you offer up your money one more damn time, you’ll find out exactly how sturdy that Elixir bottle is when I shove it right up your ass!” she yelled.
“Round three participants!” the host announced. “Please make your way to the bar now!”
The world around us suddenly came crashing back, and I spotted the gaggle of influencers watching us from the VIP booth. My heart clenched. Shit. They had their phones out, pointed in our direction, most likely filming the encounter. This was turning into a damn nightmare.
I rubbed the space between my brows. “You’re making a scene.”
“I’m making a scene? You’re the one who basically called me a prostitute.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re the one who threatened me with assault!”
“That’s because you’re the one who deserved it!” she shot back.
“You know what, fine!” There was no salvaging this. It went against the grain for me to back down—from anyone, ever—but sticking around was only going to make things worse. Especially when people were still watching. “I don’t think this is gonna work out.”
“Just figured that out, did you?” she sneered.
I scoffed. “You’re probably overhyped anyway.”
She glowered. “Excuse me?”
“Good luck winning this competition and proving yourself to be another one of those vapid, useless leeches who contribute nothing to society.”
Her jaw dropped.
“And you know what? Rescue Boat is a stupid name for a cocktail.” I turned, satisfied, and walked away, leaving her standing there gaping like a fish.
It was an hour later by the time the contest actually ended.
I hadn’t touched the rest of my Old Fashioned, and the condensation melted over my fingers as I silently fumed at the end of the bar.
The Masked Mixer had won, of course, wearing a huge smile as she posed with the judges.
To my immense displeasure, the only time she’d touched an Elixir bottle in the third round was to grind down a cinnamon stick.
Message received.
Elio, Cassie, and Artie danced up beside me, hanging off each other, their cheeks glowing, pleasantly drunk. At least my money was good enough for some people. “Thanks for a good time, bossman,” Artie said.
“Glad you came out,” I offered. In the end, I’d paid for enough food and drinks to smooth things over with the influencers, keeping them entertained without making myself their target.
We were parting on good terms as far as I could tell, but I was more than happy to say goodnight to them now. I wanted this whole evening to be over.
“See you next time,” Elio said, giving me a salute.
God, I hoped not.
They stumbled outside, and I waited until they’d piled into their various cabs and Ubers before I exited the bar. I was grateful to leave the noise behind and let the fresh air clear my head. What a night.
“Mr. Callihan?” my driver called, spotting me.
I waved him off. “I’m gonna walk for a bit, Ian. Pick me up in a few blocks.”
“Yes, sir.” He jumped back into the sleek black car, setting off in the direction I was walking.
I’d barely reached the end of the next block before my phone rang. It was Dominic. If he was calling at this time of night, it could only mean one of two things. From a marketing perspective, I’d either done really good or really bad.
Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I knew he wasn’t calling to congratulate me. Not after that fiasco.
“What’d you do to piss her off?” he asked as soon as I answered.
Fuck. “If you’re talking about the Masked Mixer, you should know she’s a damn nightmare of a person. Don’t tell me our fight’s online?”
“What do you think?” he shot back. “Bringing a bunch of influencers who are trigger-happy posters might have been a mistake on our end.”
I groaned. “How bad is it?”
“Could be worse,” he reassured me. “The audio is such crap that no one can tell what you two were saying, and you didn’t touch her, so I don’t think it’ll turn into any kind of scandal, but…” He sighed. “Yeah, not exactly the triumph we were looking for here.”
“We’ve got more events coming up,” I said. “Hopefully those’ll create better PR opportunities.”
“We really need some good press right now to lay the foundation for the new line.”
Dominic and I were preparing for the launch of Elixir Free, a premium line of ready-to-drink, alcohol-free mocktails.
I’d wanted to grow Elixir beyond liquor ever since a buddy of mine talked about how difficult it was to go out as a recovering alcoholic and find more than a soda on the menu.
Elixir Free could be a fun and mindful lifestyle alternative for anyone looking to cut alcohol.
“If we can start building buzz now, by the time we’re ready to launch, we should have people lining up to buy. And speaking of the launch…” Dominic said, trailing off.
“I know. I know,” I said. “I’m working on it.” A launch was only as good as the product, and currently, we didn’t actually have a product because I hadn’t found the right person to develop it.
“I’m not gonna harp on you tonight. But you really do need to get a move on.”
“Allie and I are working on it.” I’d brought my talent manager on board to help me track down the right person to lead the Elixir Free team.
We had great developers on staff, but they’d struggled with this assignment so far.
We needed to bring in someone new, someone who could think outside the box.
“I think she might have a meeting lined up.”
“Okay, well that’s progress.”
I rubbed my eyes. “God, I hope so.” Especially after tonight.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Dominic said. “Maybe I would have been able to smooth things over with the Masked Mixer.”
Yeah, probably. But saying that would just make him feel bad. “Nah, man. Don’t worry about it.” Dominic was my friend first, and he was dealing with enough. “Tonight needed to be about you spending time with Hailey. I know how important that is for you, especially right now.”
Dominic sighed. “Yeah.”
“How’s that going anyway?”
“About as well as you can imagine considering…you know.”
“Well, hey,” I said, trying to cheer him up.
“At least we’ve got Trent’s birthday party to look forward to.
” I was certainly looking forward to it.
Our college buddy was one of my closest friends, but we all had so much going on in our lives that it could be tough to carve out time for each other.
At least Dominic and I worked together; we knew we’d see each other at the office.
With Trent—and our other friends Paul and Vincent—it got trickier.
But birthdays were nonnegotiable. We always spent them together, and always in the same place.
“I’m honestly stoked to go to Long Island next weekend,” he said.
I laughed. “I called Nana Dee earlier today.” Trent’s grandmother had become a surrogate grandmother to us all during college. “She’s promised us a good time. But she also said we have to provide the booze.”
Dominic laughed. “That tracks. But just know if you end up in the pool again this year, I’m leaving you there.”
I laughed too, some of the tension draining from my shoulders.
Tonight had been miserable, but it was over now, and I had good things to look forward to—like time with my friends, a big launch of a new product sure to take the world by storm, and a whole lifetime of never having to see the Masked Mixer again.