Con Man

by Amy Brent

  “For the birthday girl,” I said, smiling.

  “Colorful, just like your blue eyes,” she said.

  “Funny, I figured blue would be your favorite color.”

  The girl giggled before she leaned herself against the bar. I could see her nipples hardening against her bathing suit, but I wasn’t interested. She wasn’t older, and she most certainly didn’t have money. But, I knew if I flirted with her, I’d get a better tip out of it.

  “This drink’s really good,” she said. “What’s in it?”

  “Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that,” I said. “It’s my famous concoction. You can only get it from me, so if you want more, don’t hesitate to beg.” I winked at her.

  “Oh please, bartender,” she said playfully. “Please make me another one. I’ll do anything.”

  I made her another drink and slid it her way. She curled her lips salaciously around the small black straw protruding from the plastic cup, but it did absolutely nothing for me.

  Maybe if you were rich, I’d try it.

  She eyed me while she downed her drink before she grabbed a napkin and reached for a pen. She left her number, along with a twenty-dollar tip, and I pocketed the money before throwing away her number. I had no intention of calling her or hooking up, but just as I was about to clean my station, a beautiful older woman sat down at the bar.

  And she was flashing a thick diamond ring on her right hand.

  “Well, hello gorgeous,” I said. “How can I help you this evening?”

  “Are you one of those bars that does all those fruity cocktails? Or can you get a very stressed out woman a simple martini?”

  “For you, anything is possible,” I said.

  “And don’t waste any room with those pesky olives,” the woman said.

  “Such a shame. Olives are a wonderfully healthy snack. Are you sure you don’t simply want them on a small plate?”

  The woman eyed me the entire time I made the drink, and when I slid it over to her, I plucked an olive from the iced jar in the refrigerator. I held it between my fingers and rested my elbow on the bar, sinking my eyes into the woman while she darted her gaze between the piece of food and my face.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like one?” I asked.

  The woman bent over and plucked the olive from between my fingertips, and I had to bite back a groan at the way her lips lightly curled around my skin. She slowly chewed the olive, savoring every bite as her eyes fluttered closed. I could feel my dick twitching underneath my work pants.

  I’d found my next mark.

  “I can’t say I’ve seen you around here,” I said. “I would’ve remembered those beautiful green eyes.”

  “I’ve lived here for years,” she said. “But I’ve never been to this particular bar.”

  “Then, that explains it. Tell me, how’s that martini tasting?”

  She lifted the drink to her lips, and I lifted my hand to the rim of the glass. I playfully tipped it up and watched her swallow it down, seemingly opening her throat and allowing the clear liquid to pour down her throat. My cock came to life, thinking of how I would slide it down her perfect throat before taking every last cent she had on her.

  She giggled as she set her drink down before covering her mouth with her hand and blushing.

  “Never hide a beautiful face like that,” I said as I grabbed her hand. “It makes the world a bit darker.”

  “I take it you like older women,” she said.

  “Is there something wrong with that?” I asked.

  “Not at all. The question is, do you enjoy older women with children?”

  “In my experience,” I began. “It’s the women with children who know how to really please a man in bed. And the great part about that is I get to reward their experience with a bit of my youthful prowess.”

  I clocked the way her neck was flushing along with the clenching of her jaw. Every woman had a tell. There was the involuntary flushing before they tried to do something to stop it. It was a battle between what their bodies longed for and what society had kept jamming down their throats.

  The only thing I wanted to jam down this lovely woman’s throat was my cock just before I gave her the greatest orgasm she would ever experience.

  “Are you a self-proclaimed expert?” she asked. “Or is that simply your ego talking?”

  “I could stand here and allow you to think it’s simply my ego, but that would be no fun. If you’d indulge me, I’d enjoy taking you out just so you might be able to figure it out for yourself.”

  “Might?” the woman asked.

  “No use in allowing someone to stimulate your body if they can’t stimulate your mind as well,” I said.

  I saw that dreamy look wash across her face, and I knew I had her. I watched the way she leaned forward onto her forearms against the bar, trying to get as close to me as she physically could. Her body was screaming out for me in ways I didn’t even think she realized, so it was no shock when the answer to my question poured easily from her lips.

  “I’d love to get to know you,” she said.

  “I really was hoping you’d say that,” I said. “But there’s only one thing you have to do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Come back here tomorrow evening,” I said. “I work up until dinner time, and then I can whisk us away somewhere so we can have a more private encounter with one another.”

  I grinned when she leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before she scribbled her number down onto a napkin.

  “See you tomorrow evening, bartender,” she said.

  Then, I put her number in my pocket, along with the forty-dollar tip she’d slipped into the back of my shirt collar when she’d kissed me.

  Hook. Line. And Sinker.

  Chapter 4

  Olivia

  Of course, his name is Wesley.

  “Fucking Wesleys,” I murmured. “All the fucking same. Bet this one’s an arrogant little prick, too.”

  I dated a Wesley in high school. Wesley Wilton. Tall, thin, dark brown hair, and penetrating blue eyes. He was the talk of the town. The hunk of the high school. Every girl wanted him to be her first, but I was dubbed the lucky one. I got to be with him, date him, hold his hand, and feel how smooth his skin was. I got to kiss him, make out up against my locker with him. I even got to third base with him before I stopped the encounter on the football field after a winning homecoming game.

  But Wesley had been an asshole. Pompous. Arrogant. Full of himself. He outwardly flirted with other women while I was holding his hand. Rumors circulated that he was seeing other women behind my back while we were together in school. One time, I caught him passing notes to Shelby Henning in the middle of Calculus, a class I let him cheat off me because he was my boyfriend and that’s just what you did.

  And, it was better than him leaning over and cheating off Shelby Henning’s page.

  I pulled into the parking lot for the bar and saw it was right on the beach. The cabana sat on the edge of the divider between the hotel properties and the sandy beach. The wind whipped around a tent they had pulled down on every side to keep some semblance of warmth within the place, while making sure everyone’s drink stayed sand-free. I sat there and watched for a while, looking for anyone matching the description of Destiny’s mystery Alex.

  Honestly, I knew better. I knew this man wouldn’t have blond hair and gray eyes. I knew if my suspicions were right, he’d look like a totally different person by now. He’d probably spray tan his skin to blend in with the crowd. Maybe muck up his teeth a little bit to hide the gleaming white smile. Maybe he had a mole he pressed on every now and again, right there on top of his high-ass cheekbones. He probably used that cunning smile to lure women like Destiny into his bed before robbing them blind. I’d have a hell of a good time bringing someone like that down.

  Especially since his name was fucking Wesley.

  I wrung my hands in my lap while my mind began to spin. I couldn’
t find a single detail linking this man to any other name besides the card I had in my pocket. Of course, Destiny hadn’t taken any pictures. A woman with her type of sex life should be fraught with them, but with a fifteen-year-old son who came and went from boarding school, she was always concerned about keeping her intimate life separated from her motherly life.

  In any other circumstance, I would applaud that. However, at that very moment, I wished Destiny would’ve indulged her wild side and just snapped one fucking picture of the guy.

  After watching a few people come in and out of the bar, I pulled my hair back and got out of my car. I wanted to make sure I walked around like I was a regular to avoid suspicion. So, when I entered from the one corner people were coming in and out of, I didn’t attract any sort of attention. No one turned their heads or batted an eye, and since the bar was full, I simply took a seat in the corner.

  I surveyed the room a little while longer before I started to get discouraged. No one in there matched the description Destiny gave me, nor did anyone look like they were obviously hiding something. Every time someone walked by, I would sniff a little deeper than usual. If he’d dyed his hair a new color, I’d be able to still smell the ammonia from the dye. But with every passing person, there was always something that was off.

  I kept looking toward the bar, waiting for a spot to open up. Every time I thought I had an in, someone would slip in and take their place. It was obvious the cabana didn’t do tableside service, so I slid to my feet and began to meander around the bar.

  Then, when another place opened up right by the register, I darted in and held out my hand.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Excuse me. Yes, I just have a question.”

  “Shoot,” the bartender said.

  “Does a Wesley Fox work here?” I asked.

  “What’d he do now?” The bartender smirked.

  “So, there is a Wesley Fox here,” I said. “Tall, maybe six feet. Striking eyes. White smile.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the bartender said before he rolled his eyes. “Hey! Wesley! Got another woman here for you! Doesn’t look your type, though.”

  I scoffed at the remark, but I was ecstatic he was here. This was the only lead I had, so I had plans to pursue it as far as I could. I looked around anxiously, readying my nose to lean in and sniff his hair if it wasn’t blond. My mind began to spin while I concocted several plans. If he looked the way he was described, then I intended to simply flash a picture of Destiny to him on my phone to gauge his reaction. If he didn’t look anything like the description, then maybe I could pull him in.

  I didn’t care if the bartender thought I wasn’t his type. Fifteen minutes of his time was all I would need to get the answers to questions I wanted in order to pursue him further. Especially now that I had a name and people who knew him.

  I’d suddenly gone from one solid lead to four in the span of thirty seconds.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice said. “Someone said something about a lady who wasn’t my type?”

  My blood ran cold at the sound of the voice. I was ripped back to reality while my head snapped over toward the familiar sound, and suddenly, my body froze. Those eyes I remembered from high school connected with mine, and in an instant, I felt my knees grow weak.

  Holy fuck, it was Wesley Wilton.

  I could see the shock rolling over his features while he murmured to the other bartender. They both nodded at one another before the bartender looked back at me, and then Wesley slowly approached me at the bar. He slung a dirty rag over his shoulder, no doubt trying to ruin my appetite for any drink I might have wanted to order.

  But all I could do was stare.

  “Olivia,” Wesley said.

  “You changed your last name?” I asked.

  “That’s what happens when you wanna get away from people.”

  “From me or your mother?” I asked.

  “Don’t be absurd,” he said. “You weren’t that important.”

  My jaw clenched. I was painfully aware of the people eavesdropping on the conversation. I could tell everyone was getting defensive, which told me he was not only a regular worker here, but a beloved soul as well. He might have some bullshit aliases to rob rich women blind, but here he was at the top of the food chain. That meant I had to treat him with respect if I wanted to keep all the solid leads I’d suddenly stumbled into.

  “Wesley Wilton,” I whispered.

  “Is there a reason you’re coming around here, looking for me?” he asked.

  That’s when I remembered the research I had done. The piece of property that had popped up underneath the name Wesley Fox. No face, no address, no phone number. Just a Wesley Fox and a piece of property that had been on the market for a little under a year. The alias I had created for myself in case I could get close enough to talk with him started flooding back to the forefront of my mind. The speech I’d planned out sat at the tip of my tongue, ready to tumble off and slowly tangle him within a web of my own lies.

  I wanted to see how much he liked a dose of his own medicine.

  “Well, I’m not sure what you’re doing with your life, but I’m a real estate investor,” I said. “You’ve apparently got a piece of property that I’m looking at purchasing. I was told to come see a Wesley Fox. Didn’t think I’d be running into the likes of you.”

  Wesley’s eyes were trained hard on me. I knew when I was being clocked, read, and put through the ringer. He was weighing me, gauging my every move to see if he could clock the lie. After all, a liar like him knew the tells and ticks.

  The great thing about me was that I knew them, too.

  “What do you have in mind for the piece of property I’m selling?” he asked.

  “Does it matter if I’m willing to invest in it?” I asked right back.

  “It does,” he said. “What if the piece of property is near and dear to my heart?”

  “We both know nothing’s near and dear to your heart, Wesley.”

  His eyes bored into mine, but I didn’t move a muscle. I was in this for Destiny and for the fifteen-year-old boy he stole that money from. I was in this for what happened in high school. For the bullshit he rained down on my life. I was in this for all the times I thought about him, even after knowing the type of special asshole he was.

  I was in this until the very end.

  “Real estate investor, huh?”

  “Yep,” I said.

  “What vision do you see for the property?” he asked.

  “The building’s dilapidated, but it’s in prime territory. I’d have to completely tear it down and start over. It’s the location I’m after, honestly.”

  “I thought you said you were a real estate investor,” he said. “Not a developer and contractor.”

  “While you might not be a man of much, I’m a woman of many talents,” I said. “We both know that.”

  “Oh, I promise you we both know that.”

  The smirk on his face caused my stomach to roll with disgust. Who the fuck did Wesley think he was? Obviously, he was still the arrogant, cocky dick he was back in high school. I kept my face straight, although I simply wanted to spit in his face for what he’d done to my friend.

  Still, I could catch him. Not only could I give Destiny proof, but I also knew I could catch him and get her money back. If he was good, he’d probably wait until the heat wore off on the money before depositing it.

  Which meant it was probably at his place somewhere, if he was still the special type of idiot I knew him to be.

  “Since you’re so interested, I’ll throw you a bone,” I said. “I want to take it over and turn it into a resort hotel.”

  “We’ve got plenty of those around here,” Wesley said.

  “But what you don’t have plenty of is money,” I said. “Which is something I do have.”

  I could tell that got Wesley’s attention, and I knew from the look in his eye that I was in. He was probably trying to mark me now. He’d probably turn on his char
m, attempt to wiggle his way in with a little bit of that smile Destiny had melted at, but instead, he leaned onto the edge of the bar and brought his face close to mine.

  “I assume you know the address,” he said.

  “I do.”

  “If you can wait for me, I get off in two hours,” he said. “I’ll take you to go see the place myself.”

  “I wait for no one,” I said.

  “Funny, I remember high school a little differently,” he said, grinning.

  I wanted to slap him, right then and there. I wanted to crack my hand right against his cheek. I wanted to scream at him. To throw every single bottle back behind his damn bar at him. I wanted to castrate him for what he did to me, and for what he did to Destiny. I sniffed slowly, controlling my anger while his eyes penetrated mine, and that was when I smelled it.

  The slightest hint of ammonia.

  His hair’s been recently dyed.

  “Fine, I’ll wait,” I said.

  “I figured you would. Pick any table you like. Would you care for a drink?”