Page 22 of The Bourbon Bet
Checking the time tears me from my contemplations. I have to get moving, or I’ll be late. After putting on my tennis shoes, I toss my gray ballet flats in a plastic bag. Then, I throw it and a sweater into my oversized purse. The days have been warm, but the nights still have a bite. Not that I’ll be out after dark. Dinner shouldn’t take more than an hour and a half.
I step onto the metal landing of my apartment’s stairs and lock my door. Reaching the bottom, I go to the delivery door of Novel Idea. My trusty bike is locked to a pipe protruding from the brick wall. Owning a car isn’t in my budget, and given the much milder weather here than in Michigan, the sacrifice isn’t huge.
As I maneuver my pretty purple bike down the alley, a familiar voice calls my name. Paige is sitting three doors down on a crate outside the back door of her bakery.
I wave, walking over with my bike and asking, “How’s the new, huge order going for that wedding?”
“It’s going to make my bottom line look pretty, but the Groom-zilla can’t decide on a flavor. They were here today to taste the sample cakes. The bride loved all of them. The groom wasn’t,” Paige makes air quotes, “‘blown away.’ He’s searching for that ‘wow factor.’ I just wish he’d stop talking in clichés and pick a damn flavor.”
Stopping next to Paige, I balance the bike’s frame against my body. “That sounds frustrating.”
“Yeah, this part, with customers who are hard to please, is tough, but in the end, when it all comes together, and they’re happy, it makes everything sweet as sugar.” She stands and nods her chin toward my bike. “Where are you heading off to? You’re usually cuddling on your couch with your book-boyfriend at this hour.”
“I’m meeting Sebastian for dinner.” My hand hovers over the bike’s bell, and I give it a lackluster flick. The little ding it makes is as pitiful as my mood.
“Wow.” Paige laughs. “Your enthusiasm is off the charts. Sorry, but you’re not getting much pity from me. You’re having dinner with the hot billionaire.”
I shrug. “That I really like, but can’t actually like because of his brother’s damn deal. Plus, he has to know his company isn’t renewing my lease, right?”
“Maybe. The Blackstone empire is massive.” Paige grins. “But just in case, get the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“No way.” I shake my head with enough vigor that my hair swings. “I’ll pay for my food. I don’t want his money.”
“Please don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re halfway to accepting Thorne’s bribe to keep your store. That’s kind of taking Blackstone money.”
The truth of my friend’s words sting, but I can’t deny the reality of my situation. “Then I don’t need to be a bigger asshole and have him spending money on me as well.”
“But what if it’s like you suspect and Sebastian’s playing some angle?”
“Then at least we'd both be playing the same game. I want to save my store and outreach programs—nothing more, nothing less.” I sigh, then mutter, “Although a big part of me hopes we’re right. That he does know and is playing some angle.”
“Why?”
“I’d feel less gross about accepting the deal. What if I can’t find another store or can’t get another loan for the startup cost of a new location?” I stare at the spokes of my front tire, defeat seeping into me. “I’ve called damn near every bank in Kentucky, even the shady ones. Half don’t bother to call me back and those that do are only to tell me no.”
Paige’s brows push together. “That’s odd.”
“Yeah, a paranoid part of me wonders if that is Thorne’s doing, but more than likely it’s because I took out a big loan for the startup cost of Novel Idea and still owe a lot.” A gust of wind pushes against my back, and a paper bag skitters down the alley, its crinkled form dancing a lonely ballet across the uneven pavement. Ishiver, feeling as empty and discarded as the piece of litter. “I contacted Legal Aid. They turned me down.”
“Shit. How come?”
“I didn’t meet the income requirements. But I’ve made an appointment with the Small Business Administration.” I straighten my shoulders and infuse my voice with positivity, hoping it’ll manifest the results I need. “The soonest they could fit me in is two weeks from now.”
“Have you looked into grants?”
“I’ve started. A few are promising.”
“Okay. Keep reading and researching, but also enjoy your time with the billionaire. Let him buy you expensive food and drinks. Get some top-shelf wine and let me know if it actually is better than my cheap box stuff.” I snort. Paige squeezes my hand. “Just remember, don’t fall for him. Don’t trust him.”
“I’m the one who shouldn’t be trusted.”
Paige shakes her head. “Don’t think that way. Remember, your livelihood and the programs you’ve set up wouldn’t be hanging in the balance if the Blackstones had kept their word.”
That’s true. “And for what? So Thorne can prove a point, win some power play? Rich people are warped.”
“Not all of them. My uncle and his wife are loaded and one of the kindest couples you’ll ever meet,” she says.
“Wowwww. One couple.”
