Chapter 30
Portia stepped into the dimness that was Razor Jack’s and momentarily felt like the weight of the world—or at least of the Tremaine Corporation—wasn’t on her shoulders. Until she remembered that she was here to ask for help to save it.
Damn her father for his games and power plays.
With a sigh, she wove her way through the tables to her preferred corner. Which was occupied.
Of course it was.
She wasn’t in full incognito mode tonight, but probably wasn’t obviously Portia Tremaine either.
She took a risk and approached. “Excuse me. This is my table,” she said politely.
The two dudes at the table glanced up at her. “We were here first,” one said.
“And I’m here last,” Portia countered.
“Who’s going to make us move, you?” He looked at his buddy and laughed.
Portia shrugged. “I have friends in high places,” she said. She glanced over at the bar. “You can move for me,” she said, coating her words with Ice Queen frost, “or you can move for the Jack. Which would you prefer?”
The men glanced at each other and then scrambled to leave.
“Ah-ah-ah. Don’t leave without paying your bill. And don’t forget to leave a really big tip,” she added as she watched them insert credit chips into the payment system.
“Good boys. Now shoo.”
After a last glance between her and the bar, the two men hightailed it out of there.
With a laugh, she pulled herself onto one of the bar stools, careful not to touch the empty glasses and plates the men had left. One of the waitresses would be by to clean it up.
“I’m not sure how I feel about you running my customers off.”
Portia turned toward the speaker. She was a tall woman with long dark hair and dusky skin. Tonight she wore all black and a faint smile.
“Good evening, Taryn,” Portia said smoothly.
“Good evening, Portia,” Taryn—known to most of the city as the Jack—parroted.
“They had my table and I needed it.”
One dark brow rose. “I believe it’s my table, given it’s in my bar.”
“Semantics.” Portia waved her hand as if it didn’t matter. She loved sparring with Taryn. The other woman had a shrewd mind and didn’t take shit from anyone. Over the last months the two of them had danced around the idea of friendship, neither willing to take that last step. “I made sure they paid and left a hefty tip.”
“Well, that makes it all okay then.” Taryn laughed. “Your usual?”
Portia tilted her head and considered the question. “No. A whiskey, please,” she said, remembering the drink she’d shared with Aleks the night they’d met. She needed to shake things up if she was going to save her business.
“I’ll have someone bring that out.”
“Thank you,” Portia murmured. When Taryn turned to go, Portia added, “Wait. Please. I invited Dizzie and Killian tonight?—”
“No fights in my bar, Portia,” Taryn interjected.
“It’s not that. I’d appreciate it if you and Ash could join us.”
“Why?”
Portia swallowed and looked away for a moment. This was the hardest part. “I need some help,” she said when she looked back.
Taryn held her gaze for a long moment. “Okay. We’ll hear what you have to say, but no promises.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ll send someone over with your drink and to clean up the table.” Taryn strode toward the bar, leaving Portia alone with her thoughts.
What if everyone heard her out and declined to help? She hadn’t really been all that helpful herself lately. Or maybe ever.
Well, if they didn’t want to help, she’d figure out how to do it on her own.