We chat about the weather, and before I know it, we’re there. He pulls in the small lot and parks.
“Wait here,” he tells me and climbs out, then comes around and opens my door, extending his hand to help me out. I’ve never had a man treat me with such manners.
As I climb from the car, I hear a motorcycle approach. I look up to see a red Harley. My skirt blows up with a gust of wind, and as I push it back down, I notice the rider’s head swivel in my direction. As he passes, he slows, his hand dropping from one grip as he twists his body to look back at me.
It’s Sly. I recognize the patch on his back and that red bike of his.
Arthur’s eyes lift and follow mine. “That bunch is a menace to this town. Something really should be done to run them out.”
I smile, but say nothing. I wonder just how much power he has to actually do something about them and would he be of any help if he knew about the payments my father owed them—a debt I’ve apparently inherited.
He leads me inside and we’re immediately seated at a table. I’ve never been here before. It’s a lovely place with white tablecloths and crystal wine glasses. Huge windows offer an expansive view of the golf course.
Arthur pulls the chair out for me, and then sits across the table. He orders us wine, and after we both have a glass, I gaze out the window. In the distance, a large home sits on a slight hill overlooking the green. I place my chin on my hand and imagine what it would be like to live there.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I smile. “What it would be like to live in a place like that. They’ve got a perfect view of—”
“The ninth hole. And I don’t have to imagine. I live there.”
My lips part. “You do?”
“Mm-hmm. I could show it to you sometime, if your interested.”
I blink.
He leans closer. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Michaela? I remember you from years ago. You were a pretty child, but you’ve grown into a stunning woman.”
Oh, my God. He’s hitting on me. I fidget with the napkin in my lap. I don’t know what to say or do. Should I rebuff him? Will there be blowback to the bar, my family?
“I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
He looks at his wine glass. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I suppose it’s the age difference, right? I’d hoped perhaps we shared some similar interests. I remember your father saying how much you longed to travel. I’m a bit of a travel buff myself. Since my wife passed away several years ago, I’ve found it’s not the same traveling alone.” He looks over at me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your wife.”
He nods. “She suffered a long illness. We’d been together what seemed like forever. I met her on a train from Paris to Lisbon. It was my first trip to the City of Light after I’d graduated college, and she was backpacking across Europe. God, she could light up a room with her smile.” He grins, but it fades quickly. “I miss her. Death is never easy, whether it’s expected or not.”
I feel my eyes sting. His story is touching me in a way I hadn’t expected. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“I didn’t take you out to make you sad or talk of death. I hoped to make a connection, but I suppose I see the folly in it now.”
“Don’t say that. I do like to travel. Tell me, where have you been? What’s your favorite place?”
He smiles again, pleased, I suppose, that I’ve given him a reprieve of sorts.
“That’s easy. The Amalfi coast of Italy.”
We spend a wonderful hour eating good food and talking about all the places we’d both love to see. He tells me some amazing stories, some funny, some incredible, of places he’s been. I tell him about my dreams.
It’s an enjoyable evening. Arthur drops me back at the bar but makes no move to kiss me. I thank him and insist he doesn’t need to walk me in.
Several motorcycles ride past, heading out of town. We both watch them.
“I’ve heard stories of them shaking down businesses for money,” he says. “You’d tell me if they were harassing you, wouldn’t you?”
I swallow, unsure if I should expose that problem. It puts the bar in a weakened spot if I try to sell it. “I’ve heard those rumors too.”
“Michaela, I could help you.” He cups my chin. “Perhaps we could help each other.”
I know what he means. “I should get back inside.”
He releases me, nodding, and I climb out.
He leans toward my open door. “May I see you again, Michaela?”
I’m actually torn. I don’t want to encourage him, romantically, but I did enjoy his company. “Can we play it by ear?”
He nods. “Of course. Goodnight, Michaela.”
I walk up to the apartment and watch him drive away. Resting my hand on the window frame, I think about what he offered. Arthur could make everything easier for me; he practically spelled it out. But there’d be major strings attached.
It would be all too easy to let a man like him swoop in and take care of me and make all my problems disappear. With the kind of money he has, he could help me, my family, and the bar ...
But for that, I’d have to marry him. That is, if he’s even offering marriage. Perhaps he just wants an arrangement, like a girlfriend or mistress. Could I do that? Sell myself into a loveless marriage or be some man’s mistress just to make things easier for myself? Then again, it wouldn’t be just for me, would it? No, it’d be for my family.
I think about the balloon payment due on the mortgage, the much-needed repairs in the bar, and the money owed to Sly by Good Friday.
After changing back into my jeans, I head downstairs to help for the last few hours we’re open. Since it’s a Tuesday, we close at eleven p.m., sometimes earlier if it’s dead.
While I was gone it did get busier, though, so we end up staying open. Even with last call and turning on the lights, we’ve still got some patrons taking their sweet time leaving.
I recognize a guy at the bar as the one who gave me trouble the night Sly showed up. I’ve tried to steer clear of him, and Phil’s waited on him most of the night. Finally, he’s the last one remaining.
I run the last report on the register and tear off the tape. I just need to count out the drawer for the night. I’m hesitant to do it until we get this guy out the door.
“Kevin and I will take care of him, Michaela,” Phil says. “Just take the drawer to the back.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yeah, go on. We all want to get out of here, and the quicker you get it totaled up and in the safe, the faster we can leave.”
I nod and pull the till from the drawer, then retreat to the office, leaving him to deal with the man.
Eleven
Sly—
I walk out of the clubhouse and stop to light a joint; exhaling, I stare up at the full moon, taking a minute before I climb on the bike and head home.
Bash walks out behind me. “We need new fucking prospects.”
I look over at him and cock a brow. “Why?”
“’Cause the ones we got suck. Give me a few minutes and they’re gonna be dead.”