Chapter 7
WHISKEY BUSINESS
JASON
It was late fall in Chicago, and I was sitting in a board meeting with Danny and his dad.
This was the official handoff. His dad was stepping back, giving us the reins, trusting us to take the company forward.
It was a huge promotion and a clear sign of confidence in all the work we had put in. The sky was the limit.
Danny insisted we go out to celebrate. I was flying out the next day, so why not? We were both staying downtown at the Four Seasons. Danny called an Uber, and we headed to a new spot called Cindy’s Rooftop.
When we arrived, the place was packed with twenty-something professionals. The after-work crowd buzzed with energy. We grabbed seats at the bar, and Danny ordered two Johnny Walker Blues. We clinked glasses.
“Shit, Danny, this is surreal.”
“Yeah, we earned it,” he said, taking a sip.
A few moments later, three women sat down next to us on my side. My back was turned toward them, but one leaned over. Danny gave me a look, shifting his eyes in their direction.
I shook my head.
“Hi,” the girl behind me said. “I’m Kaylie. This is Sofie and Nina. We can’t seem to get a drink around here. The bartender’s a woman, so she’s playing favorites.”
Just then, the bartender slid napkins toward them and asked what they wanted. The girls placed their orders, and Kaylie smirked. “It’s on him, my boyfriend,” she said, wrapping her arm around mine.
“What?” I laughed.
“It’s fine,” Danny cut in. “Round of shots for everyone.” Followed by cheers from the girls.
One shot turned into another. And another. Kaylie was practically crawling into my lap. I needed to keep my head straight. Danny didn’t seem to mind, fully engaged in flirting with the other two. But he wasn’t getting the same level of hands-on attention I was.
“You’re so hot,” Kaylie purred.
“Uh…thanks,” I said, not entirely sure how to respond. “How old are you, Kaylie?”
“Twenty-five,” she whined. “I’m getting old.”
“Ha, sure.”
The music got louder, and the women started dancing around us, either using us for free drinks or hoping to get lucky. Danny was eating up the attention.
I was drunk. Too drunk.
Kaylie grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her as she moved her hips, pressing in closer, rubbing up against me.
Shit.
I needed to get out of this.
“I got to hit the restroom,” I said, pulling away.
In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. These women were bad news. I needed to grab Danny and get the hell out of there. When I came back, all three of them were dancing around him. He was lost in it. Kaylie spotted me and swayed in my direction.
“So, Jason…are you going to take me back to your fancy hotel?”
“Look, I’m married. I have kids.”
“That’s okay, Daddy,” she cooed.
All right. That was my final cue.
I tapped Danny on the shoulder. “We’re leaving.”
He resisted at first, but I fed him a line about heading to another bar, just to get him out of there.
I caught the bartender’s eye, and she nodded, immediately bringing me the check.
I took my card, thanked her, and left with Danny barely standing.
In the Uber back to the Four Seasons, Danny passed out.
I wasn’t far behind him, completely hammered, my head pounding.
Somehow, we made it back to our rooms. I must have blacked out at this point.
The next day I woke up fully dressed, my mouth dry, my head splitting. I glanced at my phone.
Danny: Morning, sunshine. Be ready for our 9 AM.
I glanced at the clock. Shit. It was 8:20.
I needed to pull it together. Normally, I was more responsible than this. I looked out the window and saw the snow was coming down hard.
I had a flight this afternoon. The kids’ Christmas concert was tonight. Natalie didn’t ask much of me, but she had asked for this. I had to be there.
Barely making it on time, I met Danny and our newest client, a stern, no-nonsense Italian guy from the suburbs of Chicago.
The meeting was intense. We went back and forth over numbers, neither side budging. I checked my watch. If this dragged on much longer, I’d be cutting it close for my flight. And dipping out early would look bad.
The snow outside thickened. Natalie texted me, reminding me about tonight. Sweat beaded at my temples—not sure if it was the heat in the room, the intensity of this guy and his crew, or the last traces of booze still in my system.
Finally, we closed the deal. I shook hands, made my exit, and bolted to the airport. Now I just had to beat the storm home. The snow was falling harder. The roads to O’Hare were a mess. Natalie had only asked me for this one thing this week. For Bebe and James.
I grabbed my bag, pushed through the revolving doors, and told myself I could still make it.
As I stepped outside into the storm, the snow was getting heavier and heavier, and time was slipping fast. What if I didn’t make it back in time?
Would I be letting everyone down, or had my absence already become the norm?