Chapter 1 Daddy - 3 Years Later - Spencer
“Take a left at the light and drop me in front,” I directed my driver to the run-down bar just off of Las Vegas Boulevard.
Last week, I stumbled upon this bar. It wasn’t a place I’d normally go, but that was the point. It was the perfect place to hide, disconnect from the real world, and not risk a chance of running into a single soul I knew.
“You got it, Mr. Russo.”
Not one for formalities, I said, “Please, I’ve told you before, call me Spencer.”
“Sorry about that. Is this a good place to drop you, Spencer?” He pulled up to the front of the old building.
“Yes, I’ll shoot you a text when I’m ready for a ride home.” Before heading in, I slipped off my suit jacket, rolling up my sleeves.
The car door clicked shut behind me as I headed for the old bar. The sign that once flashed Bluff City Bar in bright neon letters was now so run-down that half the letters were burnt out.
Dressed in one of my best suits, I was painfully aware of how different I’d look walking into a dive bar where you’d find mostly locals and service industry workers. Losing my jacket would have to be enough.
As a sports agent for some of the highest paid athletes in the country, I ran in a very sophisticated circle full of athletes, CEOs, lawyers—you name it. People who would never be caught dead in a place like this.
The big wooden door was heavy in my palm, the pull of it allowing the smoke from inside to escape. Bluff City was an Irish bar made up of more mahogany than I would ever wish to have in one setting, any Irish beer on tap you could think of, and an extensive whiskey collection.
It may be a hole in the wall, but they carried a damn good variety of my favorite after work beverage.
Pulling out a chair, surrounded by absolutely no one, I took a seat, setting my phone on the bartop face down. A long day at work called for a hard pour of whiskey.
“Spencer, welcome back!” the bartender called out my name from memory after only being here once before.
“Thank you. Remind me of your name again?”
“Colton, but you can call me Daddy.” He winked.
After the day I’d had, his refreshing sense of humor was a relief. “You may just be around my son’s age, if anything, I think I could be your daddy.” I chuckled.
“Well then, what does Daddy want to drink tonight?” Colton asked, spinning his bottle opener around his finger.
“Daddy wants you to refer to him as Spencer, and a double shot of whiskey, neat.” My eyes veered to the top shelf before shooting him a stern look.
“Coming right up, D—Spencer.” He reached for the same whiskey on the top shelf I’d drank the last time I was here. With his back facing me, I couldn’t help but shake my head and chuckle under my breath.
“Cheers.” He set the rocks glass in front of me followed by a shot of his own.
“Cheers,” I repeated, saluting him with my glass before we both tipped our shots back.
“You know, you never forget a guy who comes in here with his fancy clothes, a frown on his face, and a one-hundred-dollar tip. Just doing my job as your local bartender to turn that frown upside down and deliver you the outstanding service you deserve.”
Colton topped off my glass with a single shot to sip on before he flipped a rag over his shoulder and walked across the bar toward a group of women.
I’d take a shitty hole in the wall bar off the Strip any day if it meant good service and a moment alone with my thoughts.
Turning over my phone, I mindlessly scrolled through the ESPN app when a text popped up.
Jackson: Hey Dad, was hoping we could get together for a drink soon.
Lately, my son only seemed to want me around when he needed something.
Three years ago, I found out I was a dad.
Once Jackson graduated college, he moved away from his hometown to start over in Vegas.
I never knew for sure, but I assumed part of his plan to start over included me—his biological father.
It was a shock at first, finding out that I had knocked up a woman at a party when I was only sixteen and had no clue.
But once the idea of being a father sunk in, I was content with it. At least, at first.
I finally had something to spend my money on that wasn’t myself—that was until he took advantage.
I slipped my phone in my pocket, ignoring his text for now. Instead, I was going to enjoy a few drinks and the sound of local drunks around the old musky bar as a distraction.
My eyes flitted up, connecting to the group of young women across the bar, one standing out over the others.
A blonde, a redhead, and a woman with waves so dark I could get lost in them.
The three of them laughed while flipping their hair and sipping on their girly drinks. Colton stood in front of them, joining in on the fun. The dark-haired girl hadn’t made eye contact with me just yet, so I stole a moment to read her from afar.
She wore a smile indicating she was happy to be here, but her eyes told a different story.
They looked tired, worn out, and mysterious.
A flashy sequin tank top hugged her tits, her cleavage so palpable I lifted my whiskey to my lips to quench my thirst. A thin gold chain sparkled from across the bar, leading all the way down between the crevice of her tits, drawing my gaze lower and lower until my eyes locked on her exposed midriff.
Her little top was so tiny, if she dared to shift her body too fast, her entire chest risked being out in the open for all eyes to see.
From across the bar, I could see the fine lines etched in her skin; small tattoos sprinkled up and down her arms and across the fingers gripping the stem of her glass. The double shot of whiskey that flowed through my veins had me desperate to know the story behind them.
Colton walked away for a brief moment to help the other guests, making his way back to me.
“Another?” he asked, nodding his head toward my almost empty tumbler.
“Not just yet. But whatever she wants for the rest of the night, put it on my tab.” I nodded to the girl across the bar that had me infatuated and distracted from a shitty day at work.
“Ohhh. You know, she’s just drinking the five-dollar-special tonight, but if I had to guess, I’d say maybe she’d be in the mood for something else.” Being the true salesman that he was, Colton really knew how to grow a bar tab.
“Whatever she wants,” I repeated before he walked away with dollar signs in his eyes.
Sipping my drink, my eyes never strayed from her. While Colton talked with her, I waited for her crystal blue eyes to find mine. When they finally did, a smirk grew on her lips. She looked at me, her lips moving, reciting her order to Colton.
At the same time that he was pouring up her drink, her friends finished theirs, kissed her on the cheek, and left without paying. My mind was reeling with what might happen next. I had no problem making the first move, but I also enjoyed watching her from a distance.
Colton walked around the bar with another drink that looked a hell of a lot like mine, but I wasn’t in need of a refill just yet.
“She said she wants what you’re having, and if you want any chance with her tonight, you’ll need to cover her and her friend’s tab.”
I did say, whatever she wants, and technically, her request fits.