by Casey Morgan
I was glad to hear his older brother razz him about his order, but that soon got lost in the pleasure of good food, and Gwendolyn’s good company. She looked relaxed and happy. Grateful for everyone’s help. Even so, she looked especially grateful for my presence. My helping hand. The same one reaching under the edge of the bar and holding hers at the moment.
The way she smiled and looked at me, it was like she knew I’d been debating whether I should come at all. It was like she knew I had been beating up on myself, wondering if I was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
As our food arrived courtesy of the cook and the dishwasher stepping away from their primary roles for a moment, I saw Gwendolyn mouth, “thank you” to me. “For coming tonight, for giving me the hand I needed,” she added softly, squeezing my hand. Letting me lace my fingers in hers.
And that’s when I felt as though I’d reached Nirvana. Beyond cloud nine.
Sure, to other people, it was just “holding hands” but that’s not how this felt to me. This was way beyond anything I had ever felt with any other woman, even when I had done many other things. This was worlds away, universes away from all that.
And that’s when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Gwendolyn was special. Special enough to fight for, even if I sometimes saw myself as the fourth wheel.
Chapter Fifteen
Gwendolyn
Four guys, my burger and various fried things.
If anyone had told me yesterday morning that tonight I would be having a dinner date with those exact three things, I’d have told them they were out of their fucking mind. Completely crazy, because I had not even had anything resembling a date with one guy, let alone four at once.
No one I knew did that sort of thing. Or would, if given the chance.
But I didn’t regret it. As I sat there, munching on my burger and fries, savoring the thick and juicy meal after a full day of basically running on fumes, I didn’t regret a damn thing. Not my dinner choice, or my choice of company.
Particularly not Eric’s hand in mine. For some reason I’d gotten the feeling that he was debating whether to come and see me tonight along with all of his friends. But I was glad he had chosen otherwise. I was enjoying getting to hold his hand. Feel his sweet energetic sanctuary wrap around me like a blanket. A cloak of heavenly feathers, almost.
But it wasn’t just him that I enjoyed, even though I was currently holding his hand. I enjoyed having three my boys there, even though I couldn’t help thinking of the missing fourth one: Robert.
Why wasn’t he interested in me like the others were?
I couldn’t get his handsome face and tall, strong body off my mind. Maybe he was just playing hard to get. But our little group didn’t feel complete without him. My boys and I were getting along well, but I would like to add Robert to the mix.
My brain couldn’t believe I had just labeled them as my boys and not human men who had been strangers until yesterday night, especially where the conversation had turned to.
I asked them where they usually hung out. Their usual watering hole for beer and snacks, since I hadn’t seen them before yesterday, and everyone I knew had their own “usual” spots. Their go-to watering holes. That one question had opened up a plethora of information in between bites and crunchings of food and sides.
“We usually go to an exclusive club and lounge called Black Diamond,” said David, having to look over a few heads to see me, his brother’s and Travis’s. Travis being the closer to me of the two. “It’s only for people who have a lot of money or make a lot of money, which we all are one or the other of. Both in the case of me and my brother.”
“And me,” said Eric, but it wasn’t arrogant at all the way he said it.
This bit of information didn’t surprise me about them. From the very first time I saw them, I could tell they were successful. They wore nice enough suits and watches last night. Now that I knew they owned Reverb Tech it made a lot of sense, but what did surprise me was their humility about it. Their grace and dignity about it. Especially when compared to people like Maxine and Carl Axelrod who had now a lot of money, but absolutely no class to go with it.
“I like it a lot there, at Black Diamond,” said Travis. “It’s got a very classy, modern feel to it. A lot of black and silver. Gray in places. Inlaid lighting, stereo and music systems. Comfy furniture and everything, including fancy ingredients for drinks and food.”
“It’s a lot different than this place,” said Alex. “A lot of people say they like the atmosphere. The way the place makes them feel when they are there. Like they get to taste the richer, less stressful life. And who doesn’t want to be richer and less stressed, am I right?”
I nodded. I was familiar with the Black Diamond club. It was owned by Jorin Leblanc, a local vampire who had lived in Love’s Hollow for three hundred years. Jorin had weathered the influx of humans into our little town well, creating a club where the rich enjoyed themselves. I always figured he used a bit of magic to draw in his clients.
It wasn’t just eating and drinking that went on at the Black Diamond club. Instead, they had auctions where women sold dates— or more— to men. In fact, it was one of the few places in Love’s Hollow where paranormal creatures and humans mixed. And by mixed, I meant, exchanged hugs, kisses, even bodily fluids if the price was right.
As Alex took a big bite of his grilled cheese sandwich, stuffed some beer-batter fries alongside it, I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Sure. I’d love to be a little richer and certainly a lot less stressed,” I said, feeling a little bit embarrassed for admitting something like that so openly. So transparently. I took a bite of my food, to cover my embarrassment.
“Of course,” said David, making eye contact with me as if I might dart away from him any moment, “my brother and I certainly don’t say anything like that to offend you or your business. Not at all, Gwendolyn, so I hope you haven’t taken any of what we said in that way. It was not our intention.”
I heard Eric gasp like someone else had just stolen his heart. “Oh no! I hope you didn’t think that! I quite like it here.”
I looked at him, smiling. Squeezing the hand of his, still held in one of mine. “Of course not! Why would I be offended? I was the one who asked where you guys usually hang out. And I asked for a reason,” I said, making eye contact with each of them. “I wanted to know what the differences were between there and here. If there was anything I could learn.”
“Anything that would give our regular hangout more customers compared to yours, you mean?” asked Travis.
He was cocky. Direct. And the way he gazed at me, as if he wanted me to challenge him, that just made me a little wet and tingly. Even more so, when both Alex and David threw him a glare and a punch on his shoulder, which I wasn’t expecting from David.
“Travis!” he growled.
“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Alex added, finishing his brother’s sentence and his insult.
Eric? I just heard him growl from the other side of me. Mutter something under his breath about having absolutely no class, despite liking that classy place.
I quickly moved to cool down tempers, and keep any more egos from possibly getting bruised.
“Calm down, guys,” I said. “Relax. It’s really no big deal.”
I looked at Travis, smiling at him. Giving him a bit of mischief as I did. Especially as he clamped his hand on my leg from under the table. A gesture that, for now went unnoticed by the other three seated at the bar.
“And it’s true, really. This place does need something else going for it. Some more things to draw more customers in, otherwise I’m going to be in a really bad way, really soon.”
Travis lost his cocky look, but not the hold he had on my leg with his strong, expert fingers. “I thought you might say that.”
“I hoped you wouldn’t say that,” said Alex.
“I wish you didn’t have to,” said Eric.
“The lack of customers is more
obvious than a bald spot,” I said, taking responsibility for this burden. “It’s been something I’ve been trying to fix for a while now, but haven’t known exactly what to do, or if I can do anything at all.”
I went silent for a moment, realizing how good it felt to be honest, even if it was with four human men I didn’t know all that well, but knew I could trust. Somehow, I did know that, and somehow, I also knew they would help me get to the bottom of this. That they had the knowledge and experience to give me some guidance. Guidance my brothers could never and would never be able to provide. Not without worrying too much over their sister.
Going silent for a moment, I gave the situation some thought. In addition to that, I mulled over what they’d said about their usual spot. What the vibe of it was. How modern it was, compared to this. The swank and style it seemed to have, that this was obviously lacking.
Sure, The Lucky Spell Pot had its own particular “charm” if you liked old English styled pubs or Wild-West-style saloons, which this was a sort of bastard child of, but as I had been fearing, it wasn’t drawing people in. It wasn’t resonating with them, making it a definite relic. A definite carryover from a bygone era, despite being a small-town institution. Sometimes history didn’t sell well enough. Sometimes it needed more than that.
I wasn’t about to make it into some auction house or near-brothel, which was what Black Diamond essentially was. An upscale, classy brothel, at least. But I could certainly modernize it.
An update, which is what I tailored my questions to next. All the while feeling Travis move his hand slowly up my knee to my thigh.
“An update, do you think it would help? If I ‘classed up’ this place—you know, made it a little less ‘last century rustic and falling apart’ and more ‘modern rustic with a swanky twist’ I don’t even know what that means—but if I give this place a real update. More than just renovations or additions, but an actual makeover in the vibe of the place, do you think more people would come hang out? Do you think more people would feel inclined to come and stay? To spend more money and make priceless memories here?”
I knew I just asked a bunch of questions, and all of them with no real straightforward answer, but I had to know right now. If an update to the pub’s image and overall vibe was in order, I needed to know. So that I could make those changes, and hopefully change the future of this pub.
The most important thing my great great grandmother had started, and those successive generations had worked to maintain and grow.
But you need money to do that, genius, my inner critic piped in. You need money that you don’t have to make the money you can’t afford to keep losing. Failing to rake in.
Initially, none of the guys noticed the fall in my face, the pinch in my lips and eyes. They were too busy answering my question. At least Travis was, followed by Eric, who seemed to have realized the more physical competition going on underneath the table on my leg.
“I would definitely say a renovation, and image update in that sense would be worth it.”
As Eric said this, he put his own hand on my leg. On the opposite one, squeezing a bit tighter, as if to say no to Travis that this wasn’t uncontested ground.
Travis squeezed back a bit harder on his side, bringing my attention to him, but not in an uncomfortable way. “Totally worth it. I realize that this place has been around a while. Has a lot of history, so whatever updates you do, you want to hire a really good contractor. Someone who knows how to work with the walls and the wood, not just bash through it.” I nodded, liking the sound of that. In theory.
Sure, a good contractor was great. If you had the money.
Which, of course I did not.
Chapter Sixteen
Gwendolyn
I was already trying to pay off a loan I had taken out a few years earlier to do renovations and redesign work when I first inherited The lucky Spell Pot, and I’d spent a pretty penny of someone else’s money to do so. Money that was getting more expensive. Both from the interest accruing, and for the fact that I was not able to accrue regular, sustainable customers.
Thanks to the mother-fucking Axelrods.
Travis smiled, oblivious to my money woes. To being in so much red you didn’t think you would ever see black. Not until your business went belly up, and all your dreams were dead and buried six feet under.
“Get a contractor like that in here, get them to find the pulse of your pub — the kind of vibe and unique characteristic that could and would draw people to it – and you have yourself a winner. More nights like the one we just helped you through, Gwendolyn. A bar isn’t just about the food or drinks. It’s about the atmosphere, as you’ve kind of touched on. People don’t just want to eat or drink certain things. They want to feel certain things when they come to visit you. And they want to like those things that they feel.”
“Which some of us do,” groused David. “And some of us need to remember that she doesn’t have all the money in the world for these renovations. These updates, no matter how much they might help her. They won’t do any good, if they are out of reach.”
“And before you say anything, either of you, any of you,” I corrected myself, remembering that there were more than two or three people possibly wanting to rush in and save me financially, (in addition to my brothers), “No, I’m not going to be taking any offers for money. Any loans from any of you, no matter how much you ask me too, no matter how you make it sound.”
Eric looked crestfallen to this, as did Alex and David, as if I had read their minds and squashed their idealism before it even bloomed.
Good. I already had my brothers breathing down my neck trying to “rescue me.” I didn’t need these guys trying to save me too. I could and would handle my finical issues, dammit.
But Travis, he just smiled mischievously.
“Well,” he said, “What if it wasn’t presented like a loan? Like something you were indebted to us for? What if the format was different?” Before I could even ask him what he meant, he smiled again. “What if it didn’t necessarily come from us, but it came because of a suggestion? An opportunity offered?”
I wasn’t following, but it seemed the other guys were. They had some idea of what he referenced, but they weren’t jumping in to clarify. They were leaving this to him, for some reason.
But he had my attention, and my appetite back up. Mystery is always did that to me, whether they were in a book or in real life. Made me eat and drink with more gusto. “What do you mean by all that? Different format? Suggestion? Opportunity?” As I asked these questions, my heart began to race, as if it already sensed something exciting and different in the proposed, veiled opportunity.
Travis leaned forward, took a bite of his food, and whispered, “Well, Black Diamond, our club?”
I nodded, eager for him to continue.
“Well, it’s not just special because of the vibe. Because of the clientele. It’s also special because of certain special-time-of-the-year events. Events such as fundraisers,” he said, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that was more to it than that. More fun and funding to the fundraiser than cash. Something he wasn’t quite ready to let onto yet.
“These fundraisers are used by businesses and individuals in attendance to help them make ends meet. Pay for expenses for things like renovations or facelifts. Situations just like yours, basically. And all with the understanding that participation is kept private, and attendance is by invitation only. An invitation me and my friends are more than willing to extend, isn’t that right, boys?”
Nods all around the table.
Now they had my attention. Now I was really curious. I had no idea that Jorin was hosting any kind of fundraisers.
“Fundraisers,” I said, feeling that word slip out of my mouth like forbidden water. “Like what?”
“Auctions,” said Travis, shifting smugly in his seat.
For some reason, my heart leapt at this. Started and blushed in my chest like a nervous, giddy thing. “What kind of auctions?�
�� Even as I asked, I got images of something more risqué, more dangerous and secretive than any estate sale, or storage locker affair.
“Auctions where beautiful women auction off their company, their conversation, whatever they choose, to the highest bidder.”
Auction? Beautiful women? Did those really belong in the same sentence together? My rational mind said hell no, of course they didn’t. Not if what was going on there was legal and legitimate, and something I should bother with. Still, I couldn’t help but be fascinated. Intrigued by the concept, and I hated myself for it.
I knew that Black Diamond did auctions. I just never realized that I myself could be considered something wroth auctioning off. I supposed I thought it was for the rich and famous people who sometimes traveled through or moved to Love’s Hollow. They had successful businesses and a lot of money to spare on beautiful women. I supposed I had just never known that I was a beautiful woman. A beautiful witch, at least.
With my pulse racing around in my blood as it was, and my heartbeat thudding in my eardrums as it was, I barely heard Travis when he said, “It’s completely up to the ladies’ discretion, of course. They can choose to accept and deny any bid. They also get to stipulate what they will and won’t be auctioning off. It isn’t prostitution. It isn’t the buyer determining what they bought.”
“Unconventional, I know,” added David, looking like he was a guilty man already. Convicted on multiple counts of trading flesh, though I knew this wasn’t the case. “But I assure you it’s not selling your body in the same way that prostitution is…”
Even here, he struggled with linguistic gymnastics, trying to differentiate what we all knew was possibly classier, invitation-only pimping in some way. But even if it was (in some people’s minds) I liked that I got to choose what to auction. What to make available. A lot like running my restaurant. I made choices available, had in mind a price I would accept.
