Four Billionaires for St. Patrick's Day

by Sierra Sparks

  “I’ve heard about it. Seen stuff online,” I said. “I’m no expert. I think they’re called poly-relationships or something like that.”

  “What’s the etiquette?” asked Kenner.

  “Yeah, bro. Do we take turns or write up a schedule?” asked Travis.

  “That sounds weirder,” said Kenner.

  “Yes, brother, what are the rules of etiquette?” asked Brax.

  “Guys, I’m not an expert on this,” I admitted. “I read a few things on the Internet and that’s all. I think we just have to be open and honest, just like in any relationship. We need to have a talk with her like we had a talk now. Put all our cards on the table. If she’s into it, we go from there. If not, we go from there.”

  “We should keep this confidential from our staff at the office,” suggested Brax. “For now, I’m saying. Once we’ve gotten an affirmative from her, then that’s a different story.”

  “Yeah, we don’t want her to think this relationship is--- Well, that we’re ashamed or something,” said Travis.

  “No-no-no, of course not,” said Brax. “We just--- The company has rivals. I don’t want this to turn into something public before we’re sure. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “It’s strange, ya know?” I admitted. “I used to travel around the world having sex with different women. I was always searching for something and never found it. I had a good time, but it was empty. This feels right somehow.”

  “That’s love, bro,” said Travis. “That’s love.”

  “Yeah, I guess it kinda is,” I said. “Guess I just never really knew it.”

  “And to be honest, I never thought I’d have it again,” admitted Kenner. “I used to miss Sasha all the time, but now--- I think I’m finally moving on. I finally have something to look forward to that isn’t just work-related.”

  “Good for you, bro,” said Travis. “Good for you.”

  “And I would just like to add one more important thing,” said Brax, looking very green around the gills.

  Brax opened the door and vomited in the street. He heaved and barf poured out of his mouth. He took a breather and then did it again, this time with even more vomit. He wiped his face with his sleeve and moved back into the limo, shutting the door.

  “I don’t want to alarm any of you,” said Brax. “But I may be coming into work tomorrow a tad---“

  Brax fell over on the seat and passed out. He immediately started snoring loudly.

  “Gentlemen, there’s only one thing to do,” I said removing a Sharpie from my pocket. “Memorialize this night on my brother’s face.”

  Chapter 14

  Claire

  It was the day before Saint Patty’s Day and the bar was already a mad house. Fernando, my new cook, was trying my patience.

  “Look Ms. Claire!” he said excitedly. “Today’s new creation! I call them Deep Fried Blarney Stones!”

  “What are they actually?” I asked cautiously.

  “Taste!” he insisted.

  I bit into what actually look like a little rock. It tasted sweet.

  “It’s sweet…”

  “That’s because they’re Irish Potatoes!”

  “Oh, so you took something Irish and reimagined it as…something Irish?”

  “Yes!” said Fernando excitedly. “Oh, it’s so great to work for a boss that gets me. I’m going into the back to make more!”

  “Fernando, you don’t have to work that hard,” I told him. “You’re already a great cook and Saint Patty’s Day is already going to be packed. You can just make the standard stuff.”

  “No. I make better than standard for you, Ms. Claire,” he insisted.

  “Well, yes, I mean--- Your quality is way above standard, no doubt,” I conceded. “I’m just saying you don’t have to keep creating right now. I don’t want you to burn out before the big day.”

  “Oh, no-no-no,” he assured me. “I won’t burn out. I love this! Creating like this is a dream to me! When I was in the joint, I cooked in the kitchen. I could hardly do anything. There were no spices, no creativity and no appreciation for cuisine. Did you hear the customer yesterday complimenting my Shamrock Shooters?”

  “Yeah, he really liked them.”

  “That never happened in the joint. Not ever. I mean it couldn’t. The guards would never let a prisoner come back into the kitchen to compliment the chef, even if he wanted to. And the food we had to work with, quite frankly, it was disgusting.”

  “I can imagine. Nothing fresh?”

  “Everything came out of a can. After a while, you can taste the can,” he said sadly. “Honestly, for me, that was one of the worst parts about being in the joint.”

  “Sounds depressing,” I agreed. “Remind me to never go to jail.”

  “Don’t worry, I will. Believe me, this job is like a dream come true for me,” he said almost tearing up. “Anything you need, just ask.”

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing, Fernando.”

  “I will! Wait until you see what I create next!” he said happily rushing back into the kitchen.

  “Watch the food costs!” I called after him.

  “I will! I will!” he replied.

  My hangover was not responding well today. I wish I hadn’t gotten so drunk with the guys last night. I took some more pain meds and begged the pounding to stop. I was just getting a handle on the early lunch rush when the bank called. I knew this couldn’t be good.

  “Tom, hey, I was just about to call you,” I lied. “How’s everything? You should come by for a drink, the place is packed.”

  “Thanks Claire, maybe I’ll do that, but first I got some news,” he began. “They’re leaning on me to foreclose on your bar.”

  “They? Who?” I asked.

  “My boss’s boss invested in Rodash Real Estate. He’s got a stake in the new retail space they’re trying to build,” said Tom sadly.

  “But I’m only a month behind! Saint Patty’s is our cash cow! It’s tomorrow! I’ll be all caught up!” I panicked. “You got to give me some more time!”

  “I can stall the paperwork until then, but you gotta hit the bank right after, okay?” insisted Tom. “I can absolutely not give you another extension, understand?”

  “Yeah-yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll have the money,” I promised.

  “Okay, no worries then,” said Tom a little softer. “Have a good holiday.”

  “Yep. Erin go bragh,” I added. “Talk to you soon.”

  I hung up and put my head in my hands. I did not need this. More pressure is not what I needed. But no, I was Irish, this is an Irish Pub and tomorrow’s the most Irish day of the year--- What could possibly go wrong, right? Jesus, I needed to hire more staff. Even the boys couldn’t handle Saint Patty’s Day. I’ve seen that break more than one server, despite the tips. Oh, God, why couldn’t the Rodashes just leave me alone?

  “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?” said a voice.

  I looked up. It was Jax and the guys.

  “Guys!” I greeted. “Thank God! I could really use some help.”

  “Oh, boy,” said Kenner.

  They guys all looked pretty bloodshot too. Brax was still wearing sunglasses and he was holding an ice pack on his head. Only Travis seemed to be unaffected by last night’s revelry.

  “I’m afraid we have a dinner meeting in a few hours,” said Brax. “Quite frankly, we’re in no condition to be of service.”

  “I could stack some dishes before I leave,” offered Kenner.

  “No, it’s okay,” I smiled. “I’ll get through it. Thanks to you guys, I actually have a little money to hire some temporary help.”

  “How are you holding up?” asked Jax.

  “I’m fine,” I yawned. “Totally fine. I just need to square things with the bank after tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll be all caught up on the bills and the mortgage.”

  “Mortgage?” asked Brax. “But you said this pub has been in your family for three generations.”

  “When I took it over
I took out a mortgage to remodel it,” I confided. “It wasn’t a problem in the past, but since the Rodashes have been trying to drive everybody out…”

  “I’m sorry about that,” said Kenner, looking away guilty.

  “Oh, no, Sweetie, don’t blame yourself,” I said hugging him. “This is not on you, okay? You’re a sweet guy and I don’t blame you in any way whatsoever. No matter what happens.”

  “Okay,” smiled Kenner. “I’m still sorry though. Next time I see him at Thanksgiving, I’m going to make sure he gets no stuffing.”

  “Yeah, that’ll teach him,” joked Travis. “Jesus, bro. You should get pumped up with me and then kick his ass.”

  “At Thanksgiving?” said Jax.

  “Beat up my brother? At Thanksgiving…at my parents’ house,” repeated Kenner. “That’s something you would do if you had a brother?”

  “I’m just saying, he have to respect you then,” said Travis.

  “I can’t beat up my own brother on a family holiday! What is wrong with you?”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help,” said Travis. “You should still get jacked. At least you’d feel good and look good.”

  “Despite my earlier proclamations about your work ethic,” began Brax. “I would hate to see you lose the bar. If you need---“

  “I don’t need a handout,” I interrupted.

  “A loan from a friend is what I was going to say,” explained Brax. “You could pay me back whenever.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I have to do this on my own like a big girl,” I said. “You are sweet to offer. You guys want some lunch?”

  The boys ordered some food and Fernando delivered with his usual panache. Everyone had club soda to drink.

  “No one wants a little hair of the dog?” I offered mischievously.

  “Dear Lord no,” said Brax. “In fact, I think I may need to use your facilities. Excuse me.”

  Brax ran off to the bathroom, holding his napkin over his mouth.

  “Is he okay?” I asked, a little worried.

  “He’s much better now,” said Jax.

  “I have never seen Brax get so hammered in my life,” laughed Travis. “That was fucking epic, bro! Like college level!”

  “You guys missed the part where I carried him in to bed,” said Jax. “He threw up all over that rug he talks about.”

  “The rug he bought in Morocco?” said Kenner horrified. “That cost him a fortune! And he mentions every time we go over to his place!”

  “I know, I know,” said Jax. “Don’t mention it. He had to call a special rug cleaner to take the thing. Like the most expensive rug cleaner in the U.S. or something. Scrubs it by hand with toothbrushes or whatever. He’s just sick about it.”

  “It’s just a rug,” I said. “How much could a rug possibly cost?”

  “Thirtytwo thousand dollars,” said Jax flatly.

  I nearly chocked on the water I was drinking. He really was a billionaire.

  “Did you say thirty-two thousand dollars?” I said. “What’s the damned rug made out of? Gold?!”

  “Man, no wonder he got so mad when I almost spilled wine on it,” added Travis. “Your brother is nuts sometimes, bro.”

  “He’s got the money for it,” defended Jax. “What’s the big deal? So he buys a few things?”

  “He does get pretty extravagant sometimes,” added Kenner. “He has that suit of samurai armor in his foyer. It’s just standing there.”

  “It’s an antique,” said Jax.

  “I’ve seen him hang jackets on it,” reminded Kenner. “That offended me and I’m not even Japanese.”

  “Well, you don’t exactly make smart purchases with your disposable cash,” said Jax. “You bought that stupid chair.”

  “That was that captain’s chair in Star Trek: The Next Generation!” said Kenner indignant.

  “Yeah, in his office,” scoffed Travis. “Who wants that chair? You’d want the one that was on the bridge.”

  “That one was already taken,” said Kenner. “Not only is it a relic, but it also still works as a chair.”

  I laughed a little despite myself.

  “Great, you see? Now she’s laughing at me,” said Kenner.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I laughed. “That’s fine. Really. If you’re a fan of the show.”

  “It was expensive, but Travis spent way more on his home gym than I did on that,” he pointed out. “You couldn’t possibly lift all those weights.”

  “The point is, not to lift them all together,” said Travis. “You need a variety of weights for a variety of work outs. Besides, they come as a set.”

  “What about the treadmill?” reminded Jax. “I know that cost you a fortune.”

  “It monitors your entire body during a workout, bro,” defended Travis. “It’s an invaluable tool when you’re trying to monitor your goals. Know what I’m saying?”

  “I guess,” said Jax. “Of course, you can pretty run anywhere on the planet.”

  “Yeah, I was just going to say,” added Kenner. “Isn’t running something humans have been doing for thousands of years. I don’t need a machine to run.”

  “All right, all right,” said Travis annoyed. “I see where this is going. I’m perfectly fine with my purchases and yours Kenner. Even the rug makes sense on a certain level. It’s Jax that wastes his money.”

  “Me? I don’t buy anything? What big ticket item do I have?”

  “It’s called gambling on your computer,” said Travis. “That’s right, bro. Everybody knows.”

  “I’ll have you know, that I am currently up almost $500,” defended Jax.

  “Is that all times or just today?” asked Kenner.

  Jax hesitated.

  “Ya know, it is just today, but---“

  “All time score, bro,” said Travis. “Give it up, how much are you down? All time score.”

  “I don’t have a problem,” said Jax looking at me.

  “I didn’t say you did,” I laughed.

  “I just--- I’m actually not very good. I’m about $5000 in the hole…for the month.”

  “The month?!” laughed Kenner.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Watching the guys break each other’s balls was pretty hilarious. Fortunately, it was all in good fun.

  “The games have been--- I’ve just been really streaky lately, okay?” insisted Jax. “I do better with a live action dealer.”

  “You’re playing poker,” pointed out Kenner. “The dealer hardly matters in Texas Hold ‘Em!”

  “Yeah!” agreed Travis. “You’re not bluffing the dealer! You’re trying to get over on the other players!”

  Brax finally came back from the bathroom.

  “Claire, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to cut lunch short,” he announced.

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  Jax removed his ice pack. His eye looked a little bloody.

  “I think I burst a blood vessel,” he said. “I can’t look like this for the meeting. I need to go to a doctor.”

  “Okay, I’ll go with you,” said Jax. “Sorry Claire.”

  Jax threw down a couple of hundreds and the boys headed out.

  “Good luck with the dinner crowd,” said Kenner.

  “Bye guys,” I said.

  Chapter 15

  Claire

  That night, I basically closed the bar, walked upstairs, hit the pillow and I was out. I had never been so tired in my life. Thankfully, this was a recharge day. If the boys had stayed, I probably would’ve ended up playing with them. At this point, I was so close to having sex with them but--- It wasn’t the right time.

  Some time around nine I started to stir. I noticed a weird smell almost immediately. At first, I thought it was Sandy’s Bakery. I could usually smell something coming from his place in the morning. But the smell was more acrid than normal and it wasn’t just bread. It was wood too and it was definitely burning. Out in the street, I could hear sirens.

  Throwing on my robe, I ran downstair
s and outside. Sandy’s Bakery was a raging inferno with the firefighters trying to put it out. Like me, Sandy had stayed in his location because of his legacy. His parents had opened that bakery. I knew he had insurance, but this had to be devastating to him. Hopefully he wasn’t inside when it went up.

  I went back inside and got ready for the day. By the time I ate breakfast, showered and came downstairs, it sounded like the fire trucks were leaving. I poked my head outside. The fire was indeed out, but the cops were still poking around in the debris. I had an uneasy feeling about the entire thing, but I was too busy to do much about it.

  Getting on the phone, I called my friend, Tina. She had agreed to work on Saint Patty’s Day to help out.

  “Hey, Tina, it’s me,” I greeted. “Just confirming that you’re coming in tonight.”

  “Yeah, sure, no problem,” she promised. “Anything wrong?”

  “There was a fire at the bakery down the street,” I relayed.

  “Oh, no! I love that place,” she said. “Anyone hurt?”

  “I hope not. I haven’t heard anything,” I said. “Just be aware when you get here and park out back, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. “See you tonight.”

  Thanks to the guys, I had enough money to hire another part time waitress. I was going to need every hand I could possible get. Tonight was money, baby! Irish wasn’t the only green in this bar!

  Fernando came in to prep and I spent about an hour cleaning the bar and every glass I had. That was the key on a night like this, glassware. We’d be running out constantly. I had extra coolers full of ice and bottles of beer behind the bar. When things got tough, we could just start serving the bottles. People usually got so hammered on a night like tonight, they’d pretty much drink anything.

  “Speaking of which,” I muttered to myself.

  McCleary and Stetson were standing at the door when I unlocked. They knew enough to get here early to take their regular seats. On a day like today, I couldn’t hold them.

  “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” I greeted.

  My regulars came in, but then I heard someone running up. It was Sandy the baker. He looked like he’d been through Hell.