Page 36 of The Puck Player

“It’s no big deal, I’ve got to get in your mother's good graces somehow, isn’t that right, Miss C,” I joke, moving toward the headstone and rubbing the top of it gently with my hand. “Whydon’t you give your poor daughter some sort of sign, so she dumps that awful youth pastor and starts dating me instead,” I add with a wink, and Aubree snorts a laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” she tells me, shaking her head at me, but still I can’t help but feel like I have won something at her lighter expression.

“Yeah, but I’m an idiot that made you smile, so I guess I win,” I reply with a shrug, and her eyes soften as she looks at me. “I’ll give you ladies some privacy,” I add, before moving toward her and dropping a kiss to her head, whispering, “Take all the time you need, love, I’ll be waiting.”

I head back to the car, jump up on the front, and lean back, letting the winter sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds warm my skin. Aubree sits down in the grass between both headstones and falls apart once more, I don’t move to comfort her, knowing she needs this, and knowing that she understands I’m here for her. After she is done crying, the soft murmurs of her voice filter into the air, as she tells them both about life in Fairfield, and about how a certain hockey player is a pain in the ass. I wonder who that could be?

By the time she makes her way back over to me, her eyes are red and swollen, her cheeks blotchy, and she looks as if she could sleep for a week.

“You look like you need a drink,” I muse, slipping off the hood, and to my surprise, she nods.

“I think I do,” she admits weakly, with a laugh, and when my eyebrows rise in surprise, she shrugs. “What? I’m not all devout and holy all the time,” she replies with a laugh, already sounding less stressed after coming here, and I can’t help but smirk.

“Well come on then, Trouble, I know just the place.”

When we pull up outside of Frankie’s, my brows crowd together in confusion, as I look between the bar and Alexander, but the latter only smirks. It was almost two months ago that we first met here, and that night feels like a distant memory now given our new found friendship, but still I climb out alongside him as he opens my door.

“Really? You brought me here?” I ask in surprise, but I can’t help but feel grateful, because when I agreed to go for a drink I half expected some ridiculous high-brow bar where I would have felt completely out of place.

“What? I hear it’s a great place to meet people,” he tosses back with a wink, before locking his car and leading me inside.

The place looks a lot cleaner than I remember from the last time I was here, but I was mildly intoxicated then, so I guess Ican’t blame myself for not really remembering much about the state of it. Alexander leads us to one of the booths along the back wall, and I notice the couple of staff members tending the bar, looking between us and themselves in surprise. Sure, I know it’s the middle of the day and we are coming into a bar, but it’s not like we are the only ones here.

The older looking of the two quickly grabs a tray and some napkins, and heads toward us in a panic. “Mr. Reign, I didn’t know you were planning on coming today,” he rushes out, placing a sleek black menu in front of each of us, and Alexander excuses him with a wave of his hand.

“It was a last minute thing, Adam, don’t worry, I’m just here for a drink with a friend, not to check up on you,” he replies smoothly, and I look between the two of them totally lost.

“Of course not, boss,” the guy, Adam, responds, and it’s only then his meaning registers.

“Boss?” I repeat in question, looking between the waiter and Alexander, and the latter sighs. “What does he mean by boss?” I demand, and Alexander nods at the waiter, who disappears in an instant.

“I own the bar,” he states simply, and I blink back, still totally lost.

“You own the bar,” I repeat in disbelief, looking around, noting the wait staff still staring at him, and it’s only now I register their fear. He isn’t kidding. He really owns this place. “So, the night we met, you were here working?” I ask, trying to make sense of all of this, but Alexander shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t own the bar then, it’s a recent acquisition,” he explains carefully, and the cogs in my mind start turning.

What does he mean, it’s a recent acquisition? So he didn’t own it then, but he does now? Why?

“How recent?” I dare to ask, scared that I may already know the answer, and his response has me swallowing thickly.

“About two months ago, it was a good investment,” he replies, watching me with a blank mask, and even though I guessed that would be his answer, it still doesn’t make any sense.

Why would he buy the bar we met in?

A glaringly obvious answer slams to the forefront of my mind, but I push it aside, and signal my hand to the waiter.Alcohol, I need alcohol.

“I’ll have a shot of tequila, please,” I call out loudly toward the bar, and of course given who I am sitting with, the waiter jumps right to it, no doubt pouring me the best tequila they have, quickly bringing it to the table with lime and salt.

“Here you go, miss,” he starts, shakily placing down my things, before he turns to Alexander. “Anything for you, boss?” he adds in question, but Alexander is fixated on me, as I spill the salt on the back of my hand, lick it, down the shot, and then bite the lime.

“Just a sparkling water for me please, but the lady will take a couple more shots,” he replies smoothly, and Adam disappears once more to deal with his request.

“Good idea, I’m not sure I can deal with you sober,” I grunt, itching for another drink to calm my nerves, but the insufferable asshole only smirks.

“Trying to lower your inhibitions, huh? Sounds good to me,” he winks, and I scoff in outrage.

“You really are an arrogant, entitled asshole, aren’t you?” I huff with a shake of my head. “You just show up on your fucking white horse, ready to save the day with your giant piles of money, and probably laugh about all the problems you solve and the chaos you cause in your secret society of rich fellow assholes.”

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