The Way to a Billionaire's Heart - Part 2

I tried to distract myself with plans for the new line, but of course that just made me wish I had her input. In the end, rather than get in the way of people trying to do their jobs, I took the saute pan and went back to my condo.

Losing track of her on a Friday was making it especially hard to track Andrea down. I texted Steph every couple of hours, no matter how she assured me she’d let me know as soon as she found something. Hotels were extra busy and not returning her calls.

Generous to my core, at ten p.m., I told Steph she could take a break until Saturday. As soon as I rose, I started pestering her again. I’m sure she was ready to quit by noon, but I am awfully charming.

I’d just headed out for a jog when Zach called me.

"Mr. Alexander, I’m not having any luck moving your Monday dinner with Kerrington & Klaus. Well, I can move it, but the day is the same."

“What are you talking about Zach?”

“I told them that you needed to be in Aruba on Monday and they said that was terrific because Mr. Klaus will be there for a poker tournament. They suggest that you join him there.”

I sighed. I don’t have to scrape and bow to a lot of people, but I needed Kerrington & Klaus on board. “Fine, set it up. Send me the deets.”

Before I even got back from my run, I had the email telling me which casino in Oranjestad, 6:30 pm. He had contacted the pilot of the company plane, I was set to fly out from Reagan National at noon. Efficient.

It was Sunday evening before I had an answer from Steph.

“I found them! Holy crap, you’d think Aruba was running the Witness Protection Program.”

“I guess that’s good, in general, if not for me. Where are they?”

“They’re booked into a suite at the Palm Court. Palm Beach area. Do you know it?”

“Yeah, a good half hour from the city, more from the airport.” I sighed.

“Here’s the thing,” said Steph. “In the end, I just hired a PI, I figured it was more efficient than calling every hotel on the island three times a day.”

“Good thinking.”

“I’ve got him keeping tabs on them, so you can find her when you get there. Can I give him your number or would you rather he contact me and I’ll contact you?”

“No, no, just give it to him. Thanks, Steph, you’re the best. I’m not going to go down until tomorrow afternoon. Zach booked the plane for noon. Say, I’m meeting Klaus tomorrow at a poker tournament at the the Dolphin Casino. Can you find out about it and let me know what to expect?”

By the time I turned in that night, I knew I needed to wear a tux, it was a high-stakes game financially, but not an especially important one to serious players. I had the car lined up to take me from the airport to the casino and then on to wherever Andrea was when I got free. It’s good to have an assistant. I recommend it.

Just as I was about to leave on Monday, I grabbed the pan. Who knows, maybe it’ll be like Cinderella’s shoe. I imagined myself holding it out to her, saying “You forgot this.” Romantic comedies will mess you up.

What I’d forgotten, when I grabbed it in a romantic gesture, was that it meant I’d be at a high-stakes poker tournament in a tux, holding a shiny pan. As it turns out, though, doing weird shit at a poker match can psych out your opponents and I walked away with more cash than was reasonable, considering what a lousy player I usually am.

Mr. Klaus was a gracious loser, and impressed with my chutzpah. Our meeting went well, he was willing to support our new efforts to his stakeholders. And best of all, the meeting was short. By eight o’clock, I was texting with the PI, getting a location to catch Andrea.

She’s having dinner at the Palm Pier. With a man, local chef, known douchebag. Their res is for 8:30. His text made me feel a bit sick in the pit of my stomach. Sure, she’d left D.C. with the impression that I was getting married, it’s to be expected that she’d move on. I’d just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. But maybe they were talking shop. Chef stuff.

The Palm Pier was on the other side of Oranjestad. Even an aggressive driver would take nearly an hour to get there in the traffic the tournament had generated. I wanted to interrupt this date before it started, if I could.

I went out to where my driver was waiting. “I need to get to The Palm Pier in thirty minutes. Can you do it?”

He looked at his phone for the time and shook his head. “Sorry boss, even if I lay on my horn it’ll take at least 45. Only way around this mess is helicopter or boat.”

Boat. Of course. “Do you know anyone on this side of the city with a boat I can use?”

“No sir, I can make some calls, though.”

“No time. Thanks. You can go.” I sprinted to the back of the casino where yachts were moored, awaiting their owners. All too big, too unwieldy to pull up to the pier. I jogged down the wooden path along the shore until I came to a young guy polishing his fishing boat. It wasn’t fancy, under 20 feet, just a couple of seats and a motor. But it would do.

“Say, what did you pay for this boat?”

The guy looked me over, standing there in a tuxedo, holding a cooking pan. Clearly rich, probably crazy. “Ten thousand.”

A lie. If he’d paid more than five, he’d been ripped off. But what did I care. “I’ll give you twenty, cash, right now.”

He grinned. “Sold. You know how to drive it?”

“Of course.” I unrolled the cash from the poker game. His eyes were enormous as I handed it over. “Thanks. You drive a hard bargain.”

I took the key, climbed aboard, and started the motor. Once well off shore, I gunned it. Time to go get my girl.

Andrea

I was awake well before Kiera the next day. I knew she was in the room because I’d seen her shoes and bag. But I suspected the lanky local was in there with her, so I just crept out silently after having a lousy cup of coffee from the in-room maker.

As I headed out for my morning float in the ocean, the sun felt good on my skin. I’ve never been a sun-worshipper, but here, I just wanted to stretch out in it, let it soak in. Or maybe I was just really hungover. Well, no maybe about it. My head was pounding, but the sun felt good and as I waded in, the water felt cleansing.

I was in the water almost a full minute before I started thinking about Walker. Dammit. I had the vague sense of a promise broken. I tried to push him out by recalling the details of my time with Dylan. Replace dark hair with light, green eyes with grey. Tailored suit with rayon Hawaiian print shirt. Italian leather with flip flops…It wasn’t working. And that was just on the superficial level.

I was clearing my head by trying to think of what I would cook if I were a chef here when I saw Kiera coming down the beach. I waved my arms so she’d see where I was.

I paddled in toward shore to meet her.

“Hey there, have a good night?”

“Shhh…ow, my head.” Kiera winced as she waded out.

“I hear you. Three Advil and a gallon of water later and my head is still pounding. What was in those drinks?”

“Kevin says it’s the shitty local rum.”

“Kevin? Local guy? Did you let him speak English or are you fluent in Papiamento now?”

“I let him speak English this morning.” She gave me her bad girl grin. “Just before I sent him on his way. He wanted to stay with us today, said he’d be a tour guide.” She made a “psht” noise and shook her head. "I told him I don’t want a boyfriend or a tour guide."

“I’m not sure I’m up for touring anyway.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever leave the water. It felt so good to be floating there in the sun.

“Nooo. This is a hanging around the beach day. I intend to give this hangover until noon and then I’m going to the pool bar.”

“I think it’s a sober day for me. Maybe I’ll lay on one of those chairs with a sunshade and read. If my head stops hammering.”

“Wait!” Kiera’s head popped up off her tube and she took of her sunglasses. "How was your night? Last I saw, you left with that man with the

porn body and the shirt that didn’t close."

“Dylan. We’re having dinner tonight.”

"But what about last night? Did you bring him back to the room?"

“Nah, I left not long after I went outside.” I sighed. “I wanted to hook up with him. I really did. But I kept thinking about Walker and I just felt…sad.”

We floated in silence for a few moments. Then Kiera said, “Okay. Forgetting about him isn’t working. So try to just accept it. Tell yourself, ‘I met this man, I thought something was going to come of it, but it didn’t. And that’s okay. I’m sad, and that’s okay.’ Like, see your sadness and accept it. And let it go.”

“Kiera, have you been listening to NPR again?”

She laughed and splashed me. “As a matter of fact, that is from some mindfulness meditation bullshit I heard about. Here, I’ll put it how our mothers would: Let go and let God. Walker is out of your hands, out of your life. You don’t have to forget about him, you can remember those few days fondly if you want, but you can’t cling to them as a thing you can bring back.” She paused and paddled then added, “It’s like a dead puppy.”