The waitress comes back with our drinks. His Highlander looks interesting, almost like root beer, of all things. “What the hell is that?”
“Two ounces Japanese sake, two ounces of Scotch whisky, and the rest is Coke over crushed ice,” he says, lifting the clear beer mug. “Basically a Duncan Macleod, but we use real Highland scotch, so we renamed it.”
I nod and take a sip of mine. It’s fruity, with bright highlights, and I can already tell I’m going to have to go easy on it. I’ve got work in the morning, and I’m not supposed to be going home with Jake. “Damn, this is good.”
“Thank you. I had a hand in making it,” Jake says, sipping his mug.
“Did you? And did you have a hand in the drink the first night too?” I ask, and Jake shakes his head.
“No, wish I could say I did. The name alone is nice, though, don’t you think?”
I laugh as I take another sip of my drink. “It certainly makes memories. And the club?”
“Nathan and I had an architect help with the details, but we chose most of the layout. I wanted something different from the average club.”
“It’s one of the nicest I’ve ever been in,” I say honestly. “Nothing like Trixie’s.”
Jake takes a slow sip of his Highlander and sets it down, raising an eyebrow. “Trixie’s?”
I nod. “The club I used to sing at.” And shake my ass like nobody’s business. “It was my favorite place back home.”
“You’re a singer?” he says with some surprise. “You’re just full of little talents, aren’t you? What kind of music?”
“Nothing anymore,” I say, feeling the pain in my chest that comes with talking about it. Those days are gone. Despite Mindy’s encouragement, I haven’t given much thought to singing. But looking over the railing of the VIP lounge at the stage, I feel that same longing and admit to myself that there’s a void where singing used to be in my heart. I force myself to look away, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I stopped when I went back to college.”
“Why?” Jake asks, leaning forward. “I can see in your eyes that you practically want to run down there right now and grab a mic.”
“Yeah, well,” I say softly, shaking my head, “I didn’t think it was right that I wasn’t really making any money doing it and instead was mooching off my mom and stepfather. I thought it was time to move on, support myself.”
Jake nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Let me ask you, which makes you happier, singing or working at Franklin?”
“Singing,” I answer without even pausing for breath. “I don’t care what. Rock, pop, just about anything but country. But . . . like I said, I’m done living off someone else, Jake.”
Jake hums, then finishes the rest of his drink. “Mind singing something for me? Call it . . . call it your penance for accidentally stealing my wallet.”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I haven’t sung in so long, I’m pretty sure my voice would crack. I don’t want to burst your eardrums. I thought I killed you once as it is.”
Jake chuckles. He looks like he wants to press the issue but doesn’t. Instead, he leans back, crossing his hands over his left knee. “Point taken. For now, but I’m not giving up just yet.”
I’m almost tempted to say that I could maybe sing a little tonight, but before I can, Nathan comes up the stairs, cursing and yelling into the air. “I told you to check the fucking hidden costs, didn’t I? In fact, I remember specifically telling you, ‘No way in hell should you sink your money in this, Titus. It’s a golden turd.’ Now you’re calling me to bitch that you’re losing money? Get the fuck outta’ here!”
“You guys been friends long?” I ask as Nathan heads off to the other end of the VIP section, where I see a laptop on one of the tables there.
“Since childhood,” he says. “He moved into the neighborhood when he was nine, and we’ve been friends ever since.”
“He certainly has a way with words.”
Jake chuckles. “That he does. Not always to his benefit.”
I nod, smirking. “I think his first few words to me were sleazy broad, and I’m sure fuck was in the first sentence.”
Jake swallows, looking embarrassed. “Was it? I’ll have to talk to him.”
I shake my head, waving him off. “I was running out of that back room. He had no idea who the hell I was.”
Nathan comes over, his eyes twinkling in curiosity like he’s waiting to be introduced.
Jake gives him a head nod. “Nathan, this is Roxy. She brought back my wallet. Not bad for a sleazy broad, huh?”
Nathan looks abashed, but he laughs. “You’re right. Roxy, I apologize. My mouth gets the better of me sometimes. I looked at the video, and I promise you, if that asshole who tried to drug you comes in, he’s gonna find out I haven’t forgotten the old ways from the neighborhood.”
I offer my hand, and Nathan shakes it, then kisses my knuckles. “I like this side of you a lot more than the first impression,” I say.
“Of course. You know—” Nathan says when suddenly, there’s a crash down below. A drunken woman decided that Club Jasmine’s chairs were just perfect for her recreation of The Pussycat Dolls’ Buttons dancing, and she’s knocked a table, a waitress, and a bunch of other stuff onto the floor. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Excuse me.”
Nathan heads for the stairs, talking loudly in a juicy Bronx accent that I’m sure has plenty of people quivering in fear even as I try to hold in my laughter. “You know who he reminds me of?”
“Who?” Jake asks, and I laugh again. “No, really, who?”
“Joe Pesci. Like, how he looked in Goodfellas. Like Nathan would totally be at ease carrying a baseball bat right now.”
“Oh, don’t give him any ideas,” Jake says, chuckling. “Nathan’s a genius when it comes to making money, but there’s a reason he’s not working for a firm. He tried working for Goldman Sachs right out of college and ended up getting fired.”
“Why?” I ask, and Jake laughs.
“One of the Vice Presidents had a proposal, and Nathan told him in his typical manner that he disagreed with it. When the VP decided to defend himself by saying that one of the Seven Dwarves shouldn’t be worrying about what real men said, Nathan decided to get even. By the time Nathan was done, the VP was crying. I still don’t know how he didn’t get arrested for that one.”
“Damn, and you’re business partners with him?”
Jake laughs. “Don’t let his foul mouth fool you. He's sharp as a blade when it comes to running a business.”
I nod, intrigued. “Well, maybe I underestimated him then.”
“So, how long have you been working at Franklin Consolidated?” he asks me, changing subjects. “I decided not to pry.”
“For almost a year. I recently got a promotion, so I’m moving up some,” I say with a touch of pride. “Apparently, I’m decent at something, too.”
“That’s nice,” Jake says. “But no offense, you just don’t strike me as the corporate monkey type.”
“I didn’t think I was either. Before going back to school, I was . . . I was more free-spirited.”
Jake hums in appreciation. “You know, I think I saw a hint of that the other night. Unless you’re in a habit of being that . . . free-spirited.”
At the mention of my behavior on Saturday, I feel myself blush all the way to the roots of my hair, and I scratch at my chin. “Yeah . . . about that. I’m embarrassed about that. I’m normally not that hard up,” I say bluntly, feeling my confidence rising. “I’m usually a straight shooter, but I’m not that forward.” I take a deep breath and blurt it out brutally. “It’s been a while—let’s just leave it at that.”
He watches me intently, like he’s studying me. “I believe you.”
I’m tempted by the look in his eyes. He’s so handsome, so confident and assured, that I almost want to slide across the seat and kiss him. I want him to take me in the back and to finish what we started Saturday night, but Hannah’s right. All business, all business, I think to myself. In desperation, I try to think of something else to say. “So . . . how’d you get to where you are at your age? I mean, you’re not that much older than I am, are you?”