Page 18 of The Billionaire's Second Chance
“Again.” I smiled winningly. “Maybe it could be in the coat check?”
“If you’ll excuse me, I will inquire,” he said dryly.
“Oh, of course.” He disappeared through a discreet doorway and down a staff hallway to where I knew the coat check was located. In a few moments, he would return, bearing a perfectly pressed suit jacket and a scowl, as he did every week. This was ourthing. I could anticipate his return practically down to the second.
“Your jacket, Mr. Martin,” he said, passing it to me.
I took it with athank you, and he mumbled something that was probablyof course, sir, but with the clear desire to saygo fuck yourself.
“Will you be dining tonight?”
I checked my watch: four thirty. I was on school release time, but James wouldn’t be off of work for at least another hour. I’d have a drink and check my work messages before he arrived. “Later, I think,” I said, sloughing off my backpack and slipping my sport coat over my shoulders. “Just two of us.” Barrett usually ate at one of his restaurants–one of the perks of being in the business–and Ryan wouldn’t be here, I’d bet money. It would just be me and James, and that not for another hour, at least. “I’ll be in the lounge when he arrives. Let him know, would you?”
The host nodded. “Of course,” he said, with a faint sigh. He was probably dreaming of James’s arrival. One more person who preferred the elder Martin brother to the younger didn’t matter, I thought. The membership fee was the same whether you abused the coat check or not. And if they wanted to fine me,well.
I was good for it.
* * *
It was nearly seven, and I’d been growing increasingly grumpy, wondering why I didn’t just spend my Fridays in the comfort of my own apartment, maybe with a cheap, greasy pizza, by the time he finally showed up.
“Hey, Charlie,” he said, and I looked up from my phone, where I’d been reading over the dev team’s chat logs. There was an issue they were trying to sort out ahead of next week’s deployment, and my fingers were itching to dig into the code. I sighed. Laptops were banned at the Bancroft. “Did I keep you waiting?”
I shook my head, lifting my hand to signal the bartender. “No, I was working.” Sort of.
“Ah, sure,” he said with an annoying smirk. “Working.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Is it really work if you would do it for fun?” he said, lifting his eyebrows. My mood darkened, and the weight against my chest felt too heavy to be just my phone slipping into the breast pocket of my jacket. “I don’t want to hear it, Jamie.”
“I’m just saying. Hanging out with a bunch of college kids drinking beer at the office?” he chuckled. “Sounds nice. Maybe I should get into tech.”
“Maybe you should, James. Print is dead,” I said, not bothering to keep the irritation from my voice.
“Thanks, Charlie,” he said sarcastically. “I’m sure Grandfather would love to hear what you think of his legacy. I’ll have a scotch,” he said to the bartender, who’d made his way through the club chairs and billiard tables and over to our habitual spot.
“Your usual bottle?” the man asked, and James nodded, seeming more interested in his drink order than me.
“Thatwouldbe a change, wouldn’t it? He never cared while he was alive,” I groused.
“Jesus, Charlie, what’syourproblem?” James asked as the bartender shuffled away. Probably tucking that tidbit of gossip away in his mental file labeledMartin,I thought, regretting my complaint already.
“Tonight?” I asked. Myproblemwas James brushing off my life’s work. Myproblemwas the Bankworth insisting on jackets. “Or just in general?”
“Just in general,” James said, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Where’s Ryan? I thought he’d be here by now. I’ll text–”
“You can text him but he won’t answer,” I snapped. Myproblemwas James, busy with his job and his new wife, so that if I wanted to see him, it was going to be here. Myproblemwas Ryan, fucking off withhisnew wife, his new wife who looked at me with blue eyes that read too much into my every expression. Myproblemwas Samantha, that too-familiar twist in my gut when I saw her and the too-fresh memory of her body against mine… I cut off that line of thought immediately, and tried for an apologetic tone when I continued.
Whatever my problems were, I shouldn’t take them out on James, not when he was the only friend I had here tonight.
“I saw his car picking up Flora from the school,” I explained. “I assume he’s taking her on a date tonight. A little post-mini-honeymoon thing while Maddie’s at her mom’s.”
“Ah,” James said, slipping his phone into his breast pocket again. He didn’t acknowledge my olive branch, but I tried not to hold it against him.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you aren’t home, too. Flora mentioned that she and Edie were supposed to catch up but Edie was feeling too tired.”
James hummed, looking down into his scotch, and something in his expression… A gear clicked into place in my brain.
