I owed my mother nothing, especially not a place to sleep, and definitely not a second thought. I drained my beer and turned on the TV.
Chapter Three
Brady
‡
Saturday night I waited outside the restaurant to meet Siobhan.
I’d worked all day. One of the perks of being CFO was my executive office had a private bathroom as well as a dressing room where I kept several changes of clothes. I’d never voluntarily admit how many nights I’ve spent sleeping there after working until close to dawn the next day. Most people didn’t know I’d been there all night; they just assumed I’d gotten in early.
I forced myself not to pace as I waited. I’d worn a blazer, not in an effort to impress but because October in Minnesota meant the weather could change from balmy to frigid in as little as an hour. What I had on wasn’t club wear by any stretch, but I’d never grasped the need for a different look when hitting the bars.
My cousin Nolan constantly harassed me about dressing like a stuffy old man. The pushy jackass had even brought his personal shopper into my office to stage an intervention. The guy seemed nice enough, if more enthusiastic about men’s fashion and grooming than I was accustomed to. Plus, his personal clothing choices set off my warning bells. No fucking way was I ever wearing skinny jeans. Or a neon yellow shirt that would stop traffic on Hennepin Avenue. Or a fedora.
Nolan had given up on me. He’d sworn I’d have to beg him for help when I finally came to my senses.
As if that’d happen.
The black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the curb and I pasted a smile on my face. The driver came around the back to open the door and a redhead stepped out.
A young redhead. Christ, the girl—and yes, I mean girl—looked barely legal. Then it occurred to me I’d never clarified why Maggie’s niece was here. A horrid thought crossed my mind. What if this girl was a high school foreign exchange student?
Upon closer examination, I decided Siobhan was college aged. But it made no sense why Maggie had chosen me to be her niece’s companion. I was easily a dozen years older than this girl. I had two younger brothers who were better suited.
You agreed to do this because you just had to know what opportunity your dad was springing on you. Maybe if you weren’t such a control freak, you’d just go with the flow once in a while. Then you wouldn’t be in the situation of having to card your fucking date.
I offered my hand. “Siobhan? I’m Brady Lund.”
She sized me up. “Well, Mags din’t tell me to expect an older gent.”
Great.
“But I’m happy to meet you, Brady Lund, if for no other reason than to get out of me aunt’s flat.”
“Shall we go in?”
Siobhan glanced up at the marquee. “Fancy place, eh?”
“No, just a good steakhouse.”
“Mags didn’t tell you I’m vegetarian?”
I froze. “No, she didn’t.”
“No offense, but you’d better be comin’ up with another place to chow down. Meat is murder and all that.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll get the car back here.” She let loose a piercing whistle that rivaled an air horn for loudness. When that didn’t work, she stepped into the street and started waving her arms. She’d dressed like a street urchin in a skirt over leggings, heeled boots, a ruffled blouse and a long cardigan. I felt as if I’d stepped into a Dickens novel.
Right then, I should’ve gone with my gut instinct and called off the evening. Instead, I pulled her out of the street and said, “I have the car service number, so there’s no need for that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
I took out my phone and typed “vegetarian restaurants Uptown Minneapolis” into the search engine. “There are five places around here. Would you like to choose?”
“Are any of them within walkin’ distance to Steel Balls, the club I wanna hit after?”
Steel Balls? “I have no idea. And what makes you think that going to that club is on the agenda tonight?”
“Agenda? Dude. You are uptight. This club is right hard to get into, but I thought a guy with your connections—”
“My connections?”
“Business bigwig, flush with a lot o’ the green.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” I scrolled through the restaurant list. “There’s sushi or Indian a block either way.”
“Sushi.”
I hit the walk option on the map and spent our short stroll staring at the cursor blinking on the map image, half hoping I’d trip off the curb. Surely an ambulance call was a valid reason for ending a date.