Page 41 of Her Braun
Or even head of a foundation rich.
Both families owned a fair share of Chicago independent of each other.
Together, the groom and bride would likely end up being the King and Queen of the city in a few years.
Thank goodness he'd never had those lofty dreams for himself.
He was more of a get his hands dirty kind of a guy.
And while the waitstaff and bartenders in the Boleo restaurant were offering the finest alcohol to the guests to drink, Gibson wanted a beer.
A plain, pulled from the tap beer.
When he sidled up to the bar at Vol. 39, he had a feeling that this might not be the place to get that. It was elegant in a way that said it was too rich for his blood.
“Sir?”
Gibson turned and saw the bartender looking in his direction. “Hey. Sorry, I’m not sure-”
“What can I get you, sir?”
Lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck, Gibson gave the other man a lop-side grimace. “Any chance I can just get a beer? A… a Guinness?”
“Sure! I can get you a Guinness.” The bartender pulled a perfect Guinness and set the glass with its foamy head in front of Gibson. The price he named off was just about perfect too.
Reaching into his wallet Gibson pulled out the amount of cash for the beer and a good tip as well.
Smiling, the bartender thanked him, and explained, “I’d offer you a table but we’re almost full up with a doctors’ social thing tonight.”
“Ah,” Gibson had just finished his first sip and set his glass down, “I saw the sign downstairs when I arrived for the wedding.”
“Oh,” the bartender looked a little shocked, “you’re not staying here at the hotel? I’m sorry. I thought all of the guests were staying at the hotel.”
Waving off the apology, Gibson explained. “I’m a last-minute addition since I managed to get out of work at the last minute, so the room block was full. I’m going to find a room somewhere else later.” He gave his suit jacket pocket a pat. “I’ve got half a dozen cheap travel apps on my phone. Something has to come up.”
“I hope so.” The bartender shrugged. “Well, you’re welcome to hang out in here for a bit if the wedding is a little too much to handle. Just pretend you’re a doctor if someone pretentious starts talking to you.”
Gibson grimaced. “It’s like that, huh?”
One of the waiters rounded the bar with his tray and set it down beside the bartender. “Trouble in the corner alcove.”
The bartender looked concerned. “What kind of trouble?”
The waiter rolled his eyes. “Asshole doctor. That one who came in earlier grousing about how the valet better not ding his ‘Lambo.’” The waiter added in the air quotes. “He’s got some lady cornered in the banquette. Wouldn’t even let her order her own damn drink. I gave her a look to ask if she’d like a different cocktail, but I think she’s given up hope.”
Gibson frowned. “Hope about salvaging her drink?”
“No,” the waiter shook his head as if announcing a dire emergency, “freedom.”
Gibson almost choked on his sip of Guinness.
“This is his order for her. A Cosmo.”
The bartender and waiter made identical frowns at the order.
“Yeah,” the bartender shook his head, “she doesn’t look like a Cosmo kind of woman.”
That got Gibson’s attention. The entire bridal party had been downing Cosmos since they’d sat down at Boleo. “What would you think she’d order?”
