Page 8 of Landlord Daddy's Girl

“It’s only weird and creepy if you make it weird and creepy,” she replies. “You’re both grown adults now, capable of making your own decisions. If you want to see him now, as a grown woman, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

I nibble on my scone, letting her words sink in. I can’t decide if there really is a certain wisdom in them or if it’s simply what I want to hear. I suppose it could be a bit of both. On the one hand, knowing our history, it just feels kind of wrong. On the other, Moni is right. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a grown woman and capable of making my own decisions. And, of course, so is he. Which means I may be putting the cart before the horse here since this is all based on my own silly, girlhood crush.

“You know, this all might be in my head,” I say. “I don’t know if he was actually flirting or if he likes me. I could just be seeing things I want to see.”

Moni purses her lips. “You’re right.”

I nod. “I know.”

“So, we’re going to have to find out if it’s in your head or not.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“You said he invited you to the bar he’s guest bartending at, right?”

“Oh no. We’re not going there.”

“Oh, we so are.”

“He’s going to be working,” I object.

“And yet, he invited you to come down, anyway.”

“No. Uh uh,” I say. “Moni, I’ve got a paper to write and?—”

“Pick out something cute to wear, or I’ll pick it out for you.”

“Moni—”

“We’re going. And that’s all there is to it,” she says. “It is my sacred mission to fulfill your childhood fantasy and get you laid.”

I laugh, and when I open my mouth to argue further, Moni cuts me off with a wicked grin. Saying no to her is a skill I have not been able to master. Though, I have a feeling some small part of me isn’t trying to say no all that hard, anyway.

“Okay. We’ll go,” I say.

“Good girl,” she says. “We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, I do. Trust me, fun is going to be had.”

Laughing, we get up and walk across the quad, heading for our next class. My mind and heart are fluttering with the possibilities that tonight may bring. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m more terrified or excited.

5

SLATER

“All right, two Sunsets coming right up,” I say.

With the buzz of conversation loud enough to drown out the music playing through the speakers mounted overhead, I set about making one of my signature drinks for the two women at the bar. They’re both doing their best to flirt and catch my attention, but I’m not here for that. I’m just here to work. I enjoy my guest bartending shifts because it’s a break from the monotony of unclogging sinks and toilets in my buildings. It gives me a chance to socialize a bit and just do something different from time to time. It’s a nice change of pace.

Back in the day, before my father passed, I was bartending full-time. I was making something of a name for myself at the bar I worked at for the new and creative drinks I made. People made a big deal out of them, calling me a genius mixologist, which I think is kind of ridiculous. I mean, the truth of the matter is, I was bored slinging the same stupid drinks over and over again, so I just started doing something different. My concoctions became popular, and people were flocking to the bar to try them. My boss at the time loved it, of course.

It was fun, and I was having a good time. But then my father died, and everything changed. My boss at the time did everything he could to keep me working at the bar, but those buildings were my dad’s legacy, and I felt like it was my duty to take up the mantle. I still do. It’s steadier work and I’m making more money, which is nice. But it can also sometimes be lonely work. The only time people call is when they have a problem they need me to fix. I go and fix it and that’s that. There isn’t a lot of opportunity for social interaction.

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