by Jackson Kane
“Ok, fine. Let's go.” She held out her hand. I grabbed it and led her toward my bike. “You can't take me home. That's the first place Cannonball will look. I need to go somewhere until he sobers up.”
“Don't worry I know a place that they'll never be able to follow us to.” I helped her onto the back of the bike. “Cannonball? Really?”
“No one gets to pick their club names.” Molly strapped on my helmet with an alarming amount of practiced skill. What was the story here? Molly was a librarian at an elementary school, what the hell was she doing hanging out with guys who had pirate nicknames? “And don't get any ideas. I still hate you for what you did.”
“Yeah, I do too.” I let out the clutch, kicked the bike into gear and sped us out to the one place I knew she'd be safe.
It was also the one place I was expressly forbidden from going.
Chapter 6
Richard
“So in closing, I thank you all for joining me tonight on my mother's birthday. This town meant the world to her. I'll leave you with a few words of wisdom my father once gave me when I asked him how I could best serve my friends, my peers, and my community. He said simply two words: Open bar.” I flashed my boardroom smile and waved through the thunderous laughter and applause.
I idly rubbed my cufflinks, beneath the jacket of my two-tone midnight blue and black suit as I descended the stairs. It was a habit I had. Touching the cool silver always grounded me whenever I had to make speeches or big decisions.
The country club wasn't designed for presentations of this scale so I had to retrofit their terraced flower gardens by the compound's main entrance with sound, lighting and a stage.
My assistant and I made our way down to the sea of green between the valet and where the course proper started. The over five hundred initially assembled guests had started to disperse about the grounds, except for the journalists and reporters.
They always hung around.
I wouldn't have invited them if I had the option, but when it came to business and events there was a certain way of doing things that was expected. They started in right away with forced pleasantries.
“What's your handicap, Richard?” One reporter asked.
“I don't golf.”
“You bought the most prestigious golf club in the state for a party?”
“This might go down as the most expensive party in Colorado history.”
“More of a celebration, really,” I said. “Besides I've always wanted to try out one of those Segway golf carts they have here.”
I answered their barrage of questions as quickly and efficiently as I could until it turned to updates on my father's decreasing health. At that point I courteously bowed out and let my assistant, Jamie, give the canned replies and sound bites that they were all really after.
I spent the following hour meeting and talking with many of the guests. When I finally made it inside the building I spotted my friends, Dempsey and his wife Jillian, at the bar. They were a small safe haven were I could relax my public persona.
The night was far from over. It was a bad sign that I already needed a brief break.
“Impressive.” Dempsey extended a hand with what looked like a Tom Collins cocktail. “You've managed to get all Caldwell Hope's single, attractive and successful women in one place. I wish I'd thought of this when we were in college.”
“Don't be rude, Lovebug.” Jillian elbowed her husband for the joke, then stretched her arms to offer me a greeting hug. They had always been the greatest couple in my, albeit limited, group of friends. They flew in from California this morning to lend their support, and partly because they were bored, and looking for something to do.
I quickly drained half the drink Dempsey gave me, not realizing how parched I was from talking so much.
“This was a lovely gesture, Richard.” Jillian smiled warmly, then draped herself over her husband's shoulder. From her perfect blonde bun to the elegant way she moved in her six inch heels, Jillian always had a regalness about her. She'd have been a queen had she been born in the right century and country.
“So who are you trying to impress?” She raised an eyebrow and settled in with a knowing smirk. She was also deceptively brilliant at getting to the heart of things. “Or are you trying to impress them all?”
“So you can say it?” Dempsey asked with some feigned indignation.
“Of course,” She replied with a shrug.
“I'll have you both know I carefully curated the guest list to include local artists, writers, bloggers, prominent cultural figureheads, and small business owners. I'm simply serving my community.” I raised my glass for a toast.
Everything I said on that stage I meant. My mother did love this town and I really liked the thought of honoring her birthday by bringing people together.
Meeting the best women from Caldwell Hope in one fell swoop was an added bonus. She would've wanted me to be happy.
And happiness to me meant beating my brother.
“Who was that golden-haired vision you were just speaking to?” Dempsey asked, swirling his nearly empty glass.
“That’s Ms. Madison Grace, the governor’s daughter.” I kept glancing around the room as my friends and I talked. “Nice enough girl, I’ll be taking her to dinner next week”
The night was still fairly young and I'd already gotten the numbers or business cards of half a dozen beautiful young ladies.
That wasn't enough. I scanned the faces of the newest arrivals. Was I looking for someone?
I felt this odd sense of yearning. I was looking for someone else; someone in particular. I didn't know who that was until she was practically dragged into the room by her tall, blonde friend.
“If you'll excuse me…” I perked up at the sight of Gloria; the rude, yet vulgarly artistic, coffee barista and co-owner of Black Rocket Records.
“Ah, yes,” Jillian said. I could feel her smugly smiling as I walked away. “Go serve your community, Richard.”
Chapter 7
Richard
It was immediately apparent as Gloria entered the grand room that she didn't want to be here at all. That only piqued my interest more.
Where Judy wore an elegant white dress and gold jewelry, Gloria was the opposite end of the spectrum. She wore a black dress suit and shiny metal ear studs. The only exception in her outfit was a pair of bright red low heeled shoes that laced up the front.
You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
From her forced smile and body positioning behind her business partner—using her as a conversational shield—I could tell right away that Gloria wasn't shy or timid. This was a woman who had little patience for disingenuous niceties. Her little details were subtle, but telling, if you knew how to look.
I knew how to look.
Judy greeted me first; she was all smiles and saccharin. I braced myself for another tidal wave of words and general excitement as Judy delivered in spades.
“Mr. King, may I call you Richard? Thank you so much for your kind invitation! We're both extremely pleased to be here. We never got the pleasure of meeting your mother, but she sounds like such a wonderful woman. If you ever have any events that you'd like catered we offer a coffee bar service. Oh and that selfie we took got over five hundred likes on our Facebook page!”
I breathed in, smiling in exhaustion, and thanked them both for coming. I smoothly grabbed the arm of a passing food journalist and introduced—sacrificed—the man to Judy.
Stepping to the side of them as Judy began to talk to the journalist felt like suddenly being in a word vacuum.
That left Gloria and I relatively alone in a room full of people.
“Can I get you a drink?” I turned to Gloria. “It's only fair after that coffee you made me.”
Gloria glanced back at Judy, who was laughing loudly in a small group of people. If they carpooled here she wasn't leaving anytime soon. She turned back to me with a renewed fake smile. “Sure.”
“You can drop the
act and be miserable if you like. I won't tell Judy, I promise.” I said, walking toward the loneliest section of the room-wide bar I could find.
“What?” Gloria's fake smile cracked in surprise as I left her.
I briskly cut through small groups and politely pardoned myself before they could start up a conversation with me. I ducked under the bar, greeted the bartenders and got to work making the most elaborate drink I knew.
The sparkling chandelier light wouldn't cut it so I asked one of the bartenders to use the flashlight on his phone as I fished out ingredients under the bar. The mood lighting was nice, it made the hall more intimate, but I could tell it was difficult on the staff.
How could they work like this?
I took off my jacket, unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled up my sleeves. Now that I owned the place I was going to introduce a few changes.
“I'm not miserable,” Gloria said, placing her small purse opposite me on the bar. There was a look of confusion and interest on her face. “Judy and I are both glad to be invited. There are a lot of people here that we wouldn't have been able to meet otherwise.”
“Judy asked you to be on your best behavior, didn't she?” I began slicing papaya and devil's claw. I told the bartender what I was up to and he assisted with the smaller fruits, gathering them from the kitchen and measuring them for blending.
“Mr. King—”
“Richard,” I corrected, glancing up and momentarily getting lost in those stormy irises of hers. She really did have the most beautiful eyes...
“Richard, you don't know us well enough to make assumptions like that.”
“But I'd like to.” I stole another glance, this time with a half smile. “So much has changed since the last time I was here. I'd like to get reacquainted with my home town. Would you be willing to show me around?”
“Absolutely not!” Gloria scoffed at the thought, then softened a little. “I'm sorry. I'm just too busy planning the record release party.” She brushed a spiky black lock of hair from her sharp eyes. “Besides I'm a terrible tour guide.”
She seemed to have a habit of speaking her mind without a filter. There was a refreshing honesty to that, which I respected.
Gloria and I talked for a while as I wrapped up preparing the rest of the ingredients. I sent the various components off with the bartender to be blended, then washed and dried my hands.
“I've never seen a fruit salad with over fifty ingredients. I thought you were making drinks?” She said, trying to fill the void.
“I am.” I smiled. The drink was called Commonwealth, and it had seventy-one ingredients. “Like most things in life, it takes time and care to properly appreciate the simple beauty of complex things.”
Gloria breathed in sharply as I met her eyes. She knew I wasn't talking about the drink.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“We were invited,” Gloria replied, getting a little defensive.
“You know that's not what I mean. I understand Judy—loud, fun, friendly. You, though...” I let the sentence linger while I mixed the juices and added the different alcohols.
“I'm only here to support the Rocket.” She pursed her lips tightly. “That's it.”
I strained the drink, filled her glass and then decorated it with several mini flags and fruit slices. I slid the elaborate drink toward her from across the bar.
“How do I even…” She raised an eyebrow at the glass which was more of a piece of art than a mixed drink. I dropped a black straw in. “Ah, OK.”
Gloria took a sip.
“Well?” I asked. I was proud of myself for pulling the Commonwealth off. The proportions were difficult to get right and it took forever to make. I'd only made it a few times and when I did it always impressed the woman I gave it to.
“Too sweet.” Gloria said, after only the one sip, then slid it back to me. “Thanks, though.”
“Really?” I deflated slightly. I tried it. It tasted fine.
I felt off slightly, like a machine that had stuttered through a gear set and hadn't properly synced back up yet.
“Yeah, sorry.” Gloria leaned in and flipped over a clean rocks glass from the row that lined the inside lip of the bar, then reached for one of the bottles of whiskey I used. Stopping herself just before grabbing it, she asked, “May I?”
“By all means.” I casually sipped at the monstrous mixed drink I made. I guess it was a bit sweet.
Gloria poured herself a shot, then downed it.
“What is it that you don't like about me?” I asked, curiously. It was a feeling I was unfamiliar with. This whole exchange was strange and interesting. Gloria definitely wasn't like the other women I met tonight. She certainly kept me on my toes.
I found that extremely attractive.
“I don't dislike you, Richard. We just don't operate on the same level. I'm sure you're probably a great guy to have tea with in Milan and—” Gloria flicked her eyes down my physique, trying to hide the swell of excitement in her gray eyes. “a talented polo player.”
“Polo?” I laughed, sliding the Commonwealth away and grabbing my own rocks glass. “Is that what you think I do?”
Gloria shrugged. “We are in an extremely expensive and exclusive country club, which you bought on a whim to throw a party.”
I poured both of us a round of whiskey and turned my hands out. “OK, that's fair. What you're saying is that you're not impressed by money. So tell me, what does impress you, Gloria?”
“I like music.”
“Music, says the owner of a record store? Imagine my surprise?” My sly grin stole away some of the firmness in her face. She was repressing a smile.
I, of course, took that as a challenge.
Right as I was about to follow that up with a joke I noticed a certain uninvited someone walk in. “...Goddammit.”
“Everything all right?” Gloria cracked a surprised smirk at the abrupt change in my attitude, then followed my gaze.
My brother, Lucas grabbed a few beers off a bar as he led a brunette through the room. I made a mental note to have a harsh discussion with the security guard that let my brother in when he was virtually the only person that wasn't allowed.
That wasn't just any brunette either. The glasses, the pony tail... She looked very familiar— Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
Was that Molly Baker?
After what happened between them, I was genuinely surprised she didn't stab him on sight, let alone break into a party with him. She looked great and despite the circumstances, it was really good to see her. For a time, when they were dating and she was always over the house, Molly became like a kid sister to me.
Lucas searched the room with his eyes. When he found me he smiled and winked. The gesture said, “You'll have to do much better than this stupid party to beat me.”
Bastard!
“It's nothing.” I said, forcing my expression to become lighter and more present. I refused to let Lucas destroy my night.
I shifted my attention back to the most interesting person in the room. It helped that Gloria's petite frame and tight curves were easy to lose myself in. “You don't like these sorts of parties, do you?”
“Being surrounded by people with their heads so firmly up their own ass that they could see what they had for lunch?” She blew out her air. “Not really, no.”
“Why don't you leave then? Judy seems to have the networking angle covered.”
“She's my ride.” Gloria grimaced, shaking her head lightly. “She definitely did that on purpose and I feel stupid for not seeing that coming. She is constantly trying to get me to meet people and be social, but I don't know. I guess I'm just not built that way.”
“Let me give you a ride home then.”
“What? No.” She glanced back at Judy. Her partner's group had doubled in size and she was the center of it. Judy laughed and flirted. It didn't look like she would be leaving in quite some time. The night was still young after all. “No, it's fine. Besides this is your
party. The host can't just leave.”
“I doubt anyone would even notice.” I scanned the room, seeing a wave of reporters enter the far end of the room. Almost anyone. “Either way I'm tired of answering questions about my father's health.”
Gloria followed my gaze and quietly understood my sudden desire to escape. There were so many things I could talk about for hours; my family and private thoughts were not among them.
“You're of course welcome to stay as long as you like, but I’m leaving.” I texted Jamie to let her know I’d be stepping out for a while.
I draped my suit jacket across my arm—it had become too warm to put it back on—, grabbed a bottle of top shelf whiskey, then walked out from behind the bar. I reached for Gloria's hand to kiss it good night, but she clamped it tightly and shook it instead.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Grant,” I said, amused. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Judy's laugh split the air in the near distance and was followed by a round of rejoicing from those around her. Gloria's expression darkened. The thought of joining them or finding new conversations must have been really grating to her.
I felt surprisingly good as I walked away. Talking with Gloria for that brief time had been more satisfying than all the other girls combined. She had been a cool breeze in a room full of stuffy, stagnant conversations I'd already had a thousand times.
“Mr. King!” A deep voiced journalist ambushed me. “I'm with the Caldwell Hope Journal. Can I have a moment of your time please?”
“I'm sorry; I'm on my way out.” Then a devious idea hit me. I grabbed the man's shoulder and drew his attention toward Lucas. “But you see that guy over there with the long hair? The one person in this entire party who looks like just he stepped out of a music video?
“That's my rock star brother Lucky Luke. He just told me that he wouldn’t be getting back together with his band this time. They were officially done.”
The man’s dark face lit up at the thought of being the one to break the news. He thanked me profusely, then rushed off. A small crowd of other reporters could smell the fresh blood of a breaking story and followed the man. Within seconds Lucas was surrounded.
