Grumpy Boss

I took her past the bar and up a set of back stairs. Another bouncer stood at the top, took my name, and let us through a large black door into a quieter section. There was another bar and more tables and chairs, these occupied by groups of men and women, different from those below: cleaner, less drunk, less intense. They spoke with concentration to each other, and while the music from downstairs bled through the floor, the vibe wasn’t a party.

“Better,” I said, sitting at the bar. “Now, what will you drink?”

“Nothing,” Millie said. “I still don’t know why we’re here.”

I sighed, ordered a gin and tonic for her and a whisky for myself, then looked over my shoulder at the booth in the back corner. A man sat with a newspaper in front of him, reading glasses perched on his nose. He had bleached blond hair, a skinny, pock-marked face, and a loud, garish shirt.

“That man there with the paper, that’s Kevin Gala,” I said as the bartender placed our drinks down in front of us. I picked mine up and took a sip, and Millie ignored hers. “He owns this place, and ten other places like it. He’s the kind of man with money to spare, but never seems to invest it anywhere.”

“And you think he’ll give you money for your SPAC?” she asked, leaning close to me. I glanced over at her chest, then up at her eyes. She noticed me looking—but didn’t seem to mind. That was good to know.

“He might,” I said. “I think I’ll plant the seed.”

“And if things don’t work out with Lady Fluke, we’ll have him to fall back on,” she said, letting out a breath. “Okay, I guess I understand why we’re here. But I’m still hungry.”

“We’ll eat later,” I said. “Let’s go talk to him first.”

“You know, the last time we were in a club like this, you punched a guy in the face for me.” She leaned against my shoulder, grinning up at me through her eyelashes. “You’re not going to get in a fight again, are you?”

“I promise, so long as nobody disrespects you, I’ll keep my fists to myself.”

She laughed, light and gentle. “What a man, protecting my honor.”

I took a long drink of whisky then stood up. “Come on, let’s get this over with then get you fed.”

She stood and followed me across the room. I recognized several people there, and nodded to one man that worked for a rival investment firm. I was sure he’d be out gossiping about this moment the second I left, but it didn’t matter. Kevin was not the kind of man that cared much for rumors or hearsay, or anything beyond his money and his clubs.

“Rees,” he said as I approached, genuine smile on his lips. He put down the newspaper and leaned forward on his elbows. A coffee steamed nearby, smelling dark and chocolate. Kevin lived his life shifted—he woke late, and went to bed early in the morning. He was physically present at this club every single night, and went through this ritual each evening, acting out a normal morning for any other human, except in the middle of the night. He’d travel to his other spots throughout the evening, until the early morning, and I was lucky to have caught him before he left.

“Hello, Kevin,” I said, sliding into his booth. Millie slid in next to me, her knee touching mine. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“Been a while,” he said. “I didn’t think my standing invitation would ever be used.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually have me on the list,” I said, grinning a little.

“Truth be told, I forgot I did that,” he said. “But I’m glad you came.” He leaned forward and looked at Millie. “Who’s this? The girlfriend?”

“Assistant,” I said. “And maybe girlfriend, if she’s lucky.”

Millie elbowed me then shook Kevin’s hand. “Millie. Nice to meet you.”

“Charmed,” he said, and leaned back to study me. I met Kevin a couple years ago when I bought one of his properties. I ended up razing it down and building an office tower, but we connected during the negotiations, and have been friendly ever since. “So what brings you to my domain? You’re not the night life sort of man.”

“No, I’m not,” I said. “I’m actually here on business.”

He made a face and sipped his coffee. “Let me guess. You want to try and convince me to invest in your little SPAC.”

I smiled slightly and spread my hands. “I guess there aren’t any secrets in this business.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Truth be told, I’m not very interested in the whole business, so it’s nothing personal. I prefer to invest in physical assets. Property, art, that sort of thing.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t imagine you buying art,” I said, laughing to myself.