Page 115 of Better Luck Next Time

“No,” Maisie said. It was their second Tuesday meeting since the revival of the Bro Club in Dottie’s kitchen. This time they’d returned to the Taco Tuesday restaurant. Being there reminded him almost viscerally of Adalia, but then again, most things did. Besides, it actuallywasTaco Tuesday, and it felt good to be there with his friends, almost like old times.

“You can’t just out him on your own. That’s like mansplaining to the tenth degree. You’ve put together a pretty slick portfolio on the dude. Enough for that reporter to take it and run with it. I say you give it to Adalia and lethermake the call. Show her you care about what she thinks.”

He glanced at River, who shrugged. “My impression is that Adaliadoeswant Alan to suffer consequences. Things went really well with the gallery, but they’re not going to take any action against Alan. It would be the opposite of good publicity to admit they almost exhibited stolen pieces. Which is fine since they believe Addy, but I don’t know…it’s still not right. Apparently Adalia met up with Alan when she was in New York—”

Finn bristled, and River held up a hand. “Just for closure. He was totally unremorseful. She’d like to stick it to him, but she doesn’t want to relive everything, or to get Buchanan Luxury rolled up in the mess. She and Georgie hate dealing with their father more than they have to. You’ve come up with a way to ensure Alan pays without mentioning her name. I think she’ll go for it.”

“Sure,” Maisie said hotly. “But it needs to be her choice.”

“You’re right,” Finn said. “I mean, Mr. Darcy just went for it, but then again, it was the nineteenth century. It wasn’t exactly a banner time for women’s rights.”

“Man, you are taking thisPride and Prejudicethingwaytoo far,” Maisie said.

She had no idea. He’d actually read the book, something Adalia’s mother had read to her when she was a kid, but he wasn’t about to admit to that.

River just shook his head a little, a smile playing on his lips. “I never thought I’d see you like this over a woman. I have to say, it’s kind of refreshing.”

“You’re only saying that because you’ve gone all cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs too,” Maisie said. “Both of you have officially lost it.” She said it almost fondly, though, without any noticeable strain of bitterness.

“It’ll happen to you too,” River said. Finn wanted to swat him, although he doubted Maisie would thank him for it.

Something flashed in her eyes, but she just said, “No, thanks. I’ve made a conscious decision to stay single. Two saps are enough for this group. Especially when this one”—she pointed at Finn—“is stuck in overdrive mode.”

“Well, if you think I’ve already gone too far, wait until you hear my other idea,” he said.

So he told them. Maisie thought he was nuts. River piled on and said he had more peanuts than a Snickers bar, to which Finn replied that he’d never thought they had quite enough. This led to a semiserious discussion about ranking candy bars, broken up when the server arrived with another round of margaritas. It was the same woman who’d waited on Finn during his last two visits, and she’d been eyeing him with trepidation, as if she feared he’d start dancing on the table, wearing the chip basket as a hat.

“Maybe I am nuts,” he declared.

“Aha!” Maisie said, lifting her margarita up for a toast. “He finally admits it.”

He clinked glasses with her and then with River, who added, “If it’s nuts to love PayDays, then I’m nuts too. To being nuts!”

Finn took a sip and then shrugged. “Nuts or not, I’m doing it anyway.”

“So when is this going down?” Maisie said. “I only ask because I want to hide from the shrapnel.”

She said it glibly, and he was reasonably sure it was a joke.

“This weekend. I need to go to Charlotte first.”

“Good luck,” River said. They all knew he’d need it. Talking to his parents was almost always a recipe for frustration.

He went up to Charlotte on Friday, by which time he had even more ammo in his Alan takedown portfolio. Part of the reason his plan had taken so long to execute was because he was also working on his business. He’d managed to secure an office on the South Slope starting next month—an open, bright, loft-style space with a conference room—and he’d even interviewed a few candidates to join his team. One of them was probably going to work out—a recent business school graduate who’d already sold the idea for an app allowing people to trade their fresh garden produce. Another of the candidates had spent nearly his entire interview talking about how magnets could be used to communicate with the aliens. Finn had bitten his tongue, but he tried it on his fridge as soon as he got home. Nothing.

The Summer in January Beerfest he’d conceptualized for Bev Corp was also moving full steam ahead. Most of the other local brewers had agreed to participate, thanks in part to Buchanan Brewery’s inclusion and, Finn suspected, some kind intervention on River’s part.

Charlotte Robotics had already begun implementing some of the ideas from his launch plan. Sean and Mo were over-the-moon excited, and so was he.

According to Dottie, she and Adalia had finalized the lineup for the Asheville Art Display. She’d had an almost mischievous look on her face when she told him, as if she knew something he didn’t. Which, to be fair, she usually knew plenty of things he didn’t. She’d also mentioned that Blue was knitting Tyrion as a surprise for Adalia. God, she would love that.

Professionally speaking, it was the most exciting time in his life, but something was missing…or more accurately, someone. It gave everything a strangely hollow feel.

He spent the morning in back-to-back meetings with Sean and Mo and the rest of the staff at the Charlotte Robotics office. The work was both exhausting and invigorating. It helped that he likedthem so much, that he was invested in their success.

At the end of the day, Sean asked if he could have a private word with him, and they stuck around the conference room to talk.

“Sorcha says you’re looking to take that guy down,” Sean said. “The pervy professor guy, I mean.”

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