“Try that instead,” he suggested, sitting the fresh creation in front of me. “Might be more to your taste.”
“Thank you.” First I studied it from various angles. The cocktail was a work of art. If I had my new cell on me, I’d have taken a picture. Not that anyone currently cared what I was drinking for dinner. “It’s beautiful. I don’t think you’d get that at your normal dive bar.”
“You’d be surprised.” He smiled. “But we’re not your normal dive bar. Drink.”
“Right.” I carefully raised the glass to my lips. Ice cold and syrupy sweet. It definitely had lychee liqueur in it and vodka. This mix tasted like heaven served up in a swanky glass.
“Lychee martini.”
“Whoa. Eric, I love it. I want to bathe in it from now on,” I said, only partially joking. “What are you, some kind of clairvoyant mixologist?”
He laughed. “No. I just know women.”
I snorted. “Don’t they all.”
We shared a smile. Though in all honesty it was probably closer to a smirk on both our parts. The battle of the sexes waged ever on.
“How’s things going with Vaughan?” he asked, downing his Old Fashioned. And yeah, my currently nonexistent relationship with my temporary landlord was so none of his business.
“Banged any waitresses lately?”
“No. You’re not interested in me.” The man made flirty eyes at me. You had to give it to him, he had the sexy heated promising looks all locked up. A total professional man whore. “Sadly.”
I drank my drink and otherwise kept my mouth shut.
“I’m having to go further afield to find new partners.” He reached for a bottle of scotch. Top shelf. What did I tell you?
I still had nothing to say.
“Getting back to my point,” he announced. “Nell and I didn’t know a shitload about running a place like this. Pat wasn’t much better. They’d been running the tattoo parlor for a while, but that didn’t involve working as closely with suppliers, managing stock to the same degree. And none of us are really great at schmoozing. But you are.”
“Really? You seem like a people person.”
One side of his lips kicked up. “Hmm.”
“Eric, this is all very interesting. And for the record, just as I told Nell, I think this business is solid and has a good future ahead of it.” I took another sip of my stiff drink. This conversation needed it. “But I don’t see me as being part of that future. I have other plans.”
“Starting somewhere else selling houses.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s what I know.”
“But is it what you love?”
I shrugged.
He shrugged right back at me.
I drank.
“Well, that’s a shame.” A new Old Fashioned sat by his hand, but he started in on making another cocktail just the same. “Good staff’s hard to find, especially people who fit in here. Someone we can pretty much all get along with. This work, dealing with people all the time and more than occasionally taking their shit, isn’t for everybody. I told Nell I’d try and talk you into staying. Consider yourself talked to.”
“Okay.”
“Drink up,” he repeated. “Boyd will be in the kitchen for a while. I’ll make you a Caipirinha next. See if you like that one too.”
Oh boy. Hangover, here I come.
* * *
Thursday had morphed into Friday by the time I stumbled in the door. Vaughan sat on the sofa, the lone piece of furniture left in the living room since the sad demise of the coffee table and an old sitting chair during the men’s epic battle. Men were such idiots. Meh to them.
“Was starting to worry about you,” he said, strumming away at the guitar on his lap. Andre had been right, Vaughan had gifts. The way he played, his ability to bring out the most amazing beautiful sounds from this instrument, was just one of many.
“Hey.” I plonked myself down on the couch beside him, head only spinning a little. Regular glasses full of water and a bowl of gnocchi with this incredibly delicious cheese and spinach sauce care of Boyd had helped mitigate the booze. A little, at least.
Vaughan picked up the notebook and pen I’d partially planted my butt on, setting it down on the floor. He did not have his happy face on. Thankfully, he didn’t have his blank face on either. His lips were a flat line, his gaze troubled.
“Let me guess, Eric invited you to stay back and sample his wares.” He resumed playing his guitar quietly. “Nell said that’s how he operates.”
“We had a few drinks,” I admitted.
“Did you fuck him?”
“Do you care?”