2. Aiden
2
AIDEN
I f I never heard the name Masked Mixer again, I would die a happy man.
“And the Masked Mixer is running for a last-minute ingredient,” the host announced. “Will she make it in time?”
I leaned against the bar, trying to see what she would grab. Better be a damn bottle of Elixir , I thought. She returned to her workstation with a lime. A lime!
Christ.
I took a sip from my Old Fashioned and reminded myself that the round wasn’t over yet. There was still time for her to feature Elixir. She cut the lime in half.
“Forty seconds!” the host announced.
The Masked Mixer looked around, then grabbed a bottle from the counter. An Elixir bottle! She made eye contact with me, gave me the biggest shit-eating grin, then brought the bottle down hard on one half of the lime. When she’d smashed it to a pulp, she shoved the Elixir bottle aside like it was hazardous waste. She tipped the lime juice into her drink just as the host called, “Time! Contestants, please step away from your workstations! Let the judges see what you’ve mixed up for our prompt: a drink to have on a deserted island .”
I whirled away from the bar, clutching my glass and gritting my teeth. What the hell was her problem? All I wanted was for her to add a splash of my alcohol to her drink, but instead, all I got was her using the bottle as a goddamn juicer.
I did notice some of the other entrants had used Elixir…but who the hell cared about them? The Masked Mixer was the draw here—she was the one everyone was watching. And she was the one tonight was supposed to be about. We’d paid through the nose to get Elixir featured in this contest, had lined up a whole squawking flock of social media influencers to come along and spread the word. Getting the Masked Mixer on board was supposed to be the final element to turn this night into a slam-dunk triumph for Elixir.
“ Just charm her, ” Dominic had said. “You always have women falling over you, though god knows why,” my best friend had teased. “Do it on purpose this time, and we’ll be golden.”
Yeah, well, easy for him to say. I’d made him my chief marketing director because he was good at the small talk and glad-handing and endless, endless smiling I’ve never had the patience for. He should have been the one here tonight, but he’d needed me to step in, and I wasn’t one to let a friend down. But this fiasco wasn’t going anything like I’d imagined. How could I have known the famed Masked Mixer was obnoxious and self-centered with a superiority complex? Who rejects a free bottle of alcohol? Also, why the fuck did she think she was too good for Elixir?
“Woooow,” Elio Almatta said, standing right beside me. He was an up-and-coming make-up influencer, his eyelids a bright shade of blue, contrasting with the flaming pink tips of his perfectly coiffed hair. “The Masked Mixer is out for blood.”
He gave a wry smile to Cassie Harvey, a popular fashion influencer, and Artie Symmons, a young but talented street artist.
“Is it just me or did she go out of her way not to use Elixir?” Artie said. “It’s like she went for every ingredient on the bar but that.”
“Pretty sure she actually pushed the bottle away from her workstation at one point,” Cassie whispered in a way that made sure the entire group heard her.
“I’m sure she’s just saving it for the next round,” I cut in, forcing a smile. I was going to make sure the Masked Mixer used it, no matter what it took.
“I’m sensing some drama,” Cassie sang, ignoring me as she swayed to the upbeat music playing overhead. She giggled, making a face as Elio held his phone up to snap a group selfie in front of one of the statement brick walls.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. If these brats didn’t have follower counts in the millions and an absolute chokehold on the college scene, one of Elixir’s target markets, I wouldn’t have given them the time of day. “Try to be patient,” Dominic had told me when prepping me for the night. “Or if you can’t handle that, just be quiet.”
“Drama or not, she looked damn good doing it,” Elio said. “I wonder where she shops?”
“That dress is fire,” Cassie agreed. “Her ass looks amazing.” She pouted, sticking her bottom lip out. “Do you think I have a flat ass?”
Elio stuffed his phone in his pocket and cradled her face. “Babes, no. You’re perfect. Don’t do anything crazy. Remember, the BBL is out, and butt-sculpting exercises are in.”
I gulped my drink down so quickly I almost choked on it. Remember the college students , I told myself, rubbing the space between my eyes. College students who graduated into jobs with adult money they could spend on Elixir.
“And the Masked Mixer makes it through with her drink titled Rescue Boat,” the host announced, rattling off the list of ingredients. Elixir was expectedly absent. “She’s on a roll tonight, folks. Let’s see what she mixes up in round three. That’ll be coming up in fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s go check out the judges’ table,” Cassie said, grabbing Artie’s hand and tugging him into the crowd.
Elio clapped me on the shoulder, clearly already a little buzzed. “At least you know now that the bottle is sturdy,” he said. “I thought it would shatter with how hard she was hitting that lime!”
“Yeah, thanks,” I muttered through my teeth. Elio danced off into the crowd, and I darted for the end of the bar. It was time for the Masked Mixer and me to have another little chat.
“Hey!” I called, shoving past a group of people.
“You again?” Her eyelashes fluttered behind that mask. She had pretty brown eyes and a smattering of freckles along what I could see of her nose. But my gaze was drawn to her lips. Full. Pouty. The kind of lips I’d usually like to get acquainted with after a night like this. The dress she wore didn’t hurt either. The influencers were right; it was like she’d been poured into the material the way it clung to her ass. And it was one hell of an ass. Let the influencers worry about what was trendy. I knew what was hot-like-fire, and that was her to a tee.
Hot like tabasco sauce right in your eye , I reminded myself, thinking of our talk before. Approach with caution.
“Me again.” I forced a smile. “I guess congrats are in order. You totally crushed that second round. Almost as well as you crushed that lime.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Figured Elixir had to be good for something.”
A sharp, humorless laugh escaped me. “I wouldn’t think I’d have to point this out to a mixologist, but alcohol usually works better in the drink.”
“Yeah,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm, “you might have missed that announcement back there, but the judges didn’t seem to mind.”
Tension coiled around me like an elastic band, my smile thinning. With the last shreds of my patience, I said, “Well, maybe in round three you can do more than juice limes with it.”
“Oh, totally,” she said. “I’ll definitely test it out on the lemons next. That hefty design of yours makes the bottle an excellent juicer.” She turned, looking toward the table where her friend sat.
What the hell was wrong with my bottle design? The smile dropped from my face. Who the fuck did she think she was dismissing me like that? “I’m being serious here, if that’s something you’re even capable of.”
She twisted back around, pointing at me. “I can tell how serious you are, Mr. Cocktail King. Watch that the vein in your forehead doesn’t start pulsing—your head might explode.”
The muscles in my jaw clenched. I didn’t have time for this bullshit. Time to get down to brass tacks. “What’s it gonna take?”
“For what?”
“Am I talking too fast for you? Fine, I’ll say it slower. How can I get you to use Elixir in round three?”
“God, buddy, take a hint.” She turned her back on me, moving into the crowd.
I surged after her. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“From you?” she smirked over her shoulder. “I’m not just walking—I’m running. ”
Oh, no. That’s not where we were leaving things. She was going to use Elixir in her drink even if I had to jump over the bar and dump it in her glass myself. “Listen. You want to work with someone like me.”
She whirled around so fast I almost slammed into her. She crossed her arms against her chest, drawing my attention to her cleavage. Why did she have to look like that if she was going to be so damn difficult?
“What are you implying, Your Majesty? Why would a lowly little mixologist like myself need to work with someone like you?”
“Look around at the people I’m here with, and I think you’ll understand what I mean.” I gestured to the VIP table where the influencers had gathered. She raised her brow, unimpressed. I sighed. “Do I need to explain basic math to you? They’re here with me. They’re massively popular influencers who could bring attention to you, but only if I say so. And that’s not all. Elixir could open doors for you—get you gigs mixing drinks at the hottest parties in town. Trust me, you want me as your friend. Be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. Keep being a shrew to me…”
“Do I need to explain the meaning of the word ‘no’ to you?” she said, exaggerating every word slowly. “I’m not interested in your help, or your influencers, or your weak-ass, foul-tasting Elixir. I don’t want to be your friend, and I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you. So leave me the hell alone .”
I balled my fists up by my sides, inhaling a slow, deep breath. It didn’t work—my temper was breaking free. To hell with using charm, or persuasion, or anything else. Time to go with the bargaining chip that always worked. “Okay, how much do you want?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not?—”
“You’re clearly holding out for something,” I snapped. “I’ll write you a check right here and now. Just give me a number. Ten grand? Twenty?”
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.