Chapter Four
Payton
I stormed out of my mother’s office and headed down to the street in a mixture of rage and sadness and utter disappointment in my mother’s inability to see things from my perspective.
“Heartless bitch,” I muttered as I flagged down a cab and gave the driver an address that I hadn’t used in quite a long time. The driver wisely remained silent as I replayed the conversation between my mother and I in the back seat. I muttered, “Telling me to sit down and shut up? What a hypocrite! She’s a pampered, little socialite who has never had to work a day in her life. This is all a game to her. A power play that has no consequence outside of her enormous ego. What a bitch.”
Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of a dive bar on the West Side and as he turned to look at me through the Plexiglas barrier, he asked, “Are you sure you want to go in here, miss?”
“Positive,” I said as I tossed him a fifty and said, “Keep the change.”
I got out of the cab and stomped across the weed-infested pavement to the front door of Black Jack Bar and Grill. I yanked open the door and as I entered the dank world of Jack and his seedy band of brothers, I heard Jack yell, “Hey, Sweetness, long time no see!”
“Heya, Jack,” I smiled as the grizzled old bartender set a shot glass on the bar and filled it with my whisky of choice. I sunk down on a bar stool and tossed it back in one smooth movement before he could put a glass of tap beer in front of me.
“Uh oh, what’s the problem?” Jack said as he shoved a worn menu covered in who knows what toward me. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“Jack, this whole day has been shit and I need to forget about it all for a while,” I said as he nodded and set up a second shot. I knocked it back in short order and sighed heavily as I sipped the beer in front of me.
“What’s she done now?” he said with a grin that showed he’d lost another tooth since I’d been gone. I was tempted to ask him what had happened, but decided that his question first deserved an answer.
“Jack, the wicked witch of the Midwest has issued an ultimatum,” I said, tipping my chin up to try and give at least the appearance of indignant strength. “I have to find a husband and start popping out rug rats or else I’m going to be disinherited.”
“Hmm, now that’s a new one,” Jack said as he grabbed a glass out of the sink and began polishing it before filling it and sending it sliding down the bar to a man who looked like one of the many annoyingly arrogant bankers and stockbrokers who populated the Loop.
He had one of those highly groomed five o’clock shadows that made me roll my eyes because he probably also used the word “manscaping” to describe what he did to his nether regions with some special tool he’d bought at The Sharper Image. I immediately dismissed him and his slick, little sidekick as more of the idiot douche-bros I’d met as I’d moved from sports team to sports team.
“She’s on the warpath, Jack,” I sighed. “I’m not sure what to do with this, but I know damn well I’m not going to be out looking for a goddamn husband while we’re headed into the season.”
“Sweetness, you are a piece of work,” Jack laughed as he shoved the menu toward me and said, “You need to eat something, kiddo. Order and I’ll have ‘em whip it up, pronto.”
“Wow, must be nice to get such quick, personalized service around here,” the douche-bro said as he moved up the bar toward me.
“Whoa, back off, Romeo,” I said shooting him the most withering look in my repertoire. “Not interested.”
“Who said I was after you?” he shot back. “I was looking for a damn menu, princess.”
“Hey, hey, hey, play nice, kids,” Jack said, tossing douche-bro a menu and waving him back to his end of the bar. Instead, the guy plopped down on the stool next to me and proceeded to do color commentary on the choices offered on Jack’s menu.
“So, you got fried cheese, fried mushrooms, fried pickles, and French fried potatoes,” he said, running a finger down the greasy, plastic cover. “I don’t see deep-fried burgers on here, though. Disappointing.”
“I know, right? I can’t get the cook to agree to experiment,” Jack said, brightening a bit at the suggestion of putting burgers in the deep fryer.
“Maybe if you offer him a bonus for every ten sold, you’d make some headway,” the dark-haired man suggested. I turned to get a good look at him and was surprised when he looked up from the menu and said, “You want something, too, princess? Maybe a quinoa salad with balsamic vinegar and EVOO?”
“Fuck you, frat boy,” I said turning away in disgust. I’d had enough of the stereotypes for one day and this guy, though handsome, was just another symbol of my oppression.
“Oh, such a dirty mouth on such a pretty lady,” he replied in mock horror. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
I opened my mouth to tell him just where he could shove his sexist bullshit, but Jack ran interference before I could let the words fly.
“So, you want a burger, then?” Jack suggested as he picked up the order pad and focused intently on the guy’s order. “Joe makes the best burgers in the city and our fries are those big steak fries, not the skinny, little fast-food ones.”
“Sounds good,” the man replied. “Sold. I’ll take mine medium-rare.”
“I thought Neanderthals at their meat raw,” I muttered under my breath.
“Only when we’re out hunting women with clubs,” he deadpanned as he shoved the menu back across the bar and flashed me an irritated smile. “What’s your problem, princess? Are you a lesbian?”
“Oh my God, you are a total asshat, aren’t you?” I said as I stood up and moved my bar stool slightly further away from him.
“Nah, just honest,” he grinned as he lifted his beer and took a deep gulp of it. He surfaced a few seconds later and let out a loud belch that made me wince before saying, “I find that honesty works better in the end. You seem to support that premise, princess.”
“Stop calling me princess, you idiot,” I said, looking away from his intense stare. I was pissed at him, but that didn’t mean I didn’t recognize how incredibly handsome he was. His dark, curly hair was combed back in an attempt to tame what obviously couldn’t be, and his dark eyes burned with an intensity that I’d only seen in the most dedicated players I’d worked with. He had broad shoulders and large hands that looked soft, but not pampered. I puzzled on this for a moment since most of the finance guys I knew had weekly manicures scheduled to keep their hands looking good. There was something very familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite place it; he looked like he belonged here in this bar, and yet he also seemed like a complete outsider.
“Well, then why don’t you tell me your name and I will?” he replied. I hesitated for a moment. If he didn’t already know who I was, then he was definitely an outsider in Chicago.
My parents had done a pretty good job of keeping Jonathan and me out of the press, but every now and then a story came out about our family, which I was named and usually photographed for. I’d learned to ignore most of it, but I’d also learned to be on the lookout for people who were after my name rather than actually wanting to get to know me. My general distrust had kept me from dating much in high school or college. This time I decided that I didn’t care. The guy was an idiot, so I already knew I didn’t trust him.
“Payton,” I said, giving him a mildly irritated smile as I held out my hand. “My name is Payton.”
“Hello Payton,” he said taking my hand and shaking it firmly. I felt a small jolt of electricity flash through my body as my hand touched his and I looked up at him surprised. “I’m Dax. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Uh huh,” I said pulling my hand back. I searched the bar for Jack, but he was in the back getting the food and was of no help. “Nice to meet you, Dax. You a finance guy?”
“No, I’m not. Are you a running back?” he replied.
“Ha ha. Like I’ve never heard that one before,” I said rolling my eyes and turning back to my beer. I could feel the shots working as I repeated his name over and over in my head. Suddenly it dawned on me where I knew him from and I chuckled to myself as Jack brought out the food. There was no way I was going to feed Dax Connor’s enormous ego by suddenly turning into a fawning fan girl. It was always better to take guys like him down a peg or two.
“Here ya go, young man! The best burger in town!” Jack bragged as he quickly produced catsup and Tabasco sauce from under the bar before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. When he emerged, he had a second plate in his hand, which he put in front of me, saying, “Sweetness, you need to eat something. You hear me?”
“Jack, I’m not hungry,” I said stubbornly. “Give me another shot.”
“Not until you eat something, kiddo,” he said, shaking his head as he smiled. I knew Jack well enough to know that he wasn’t going to give in to any of my whining or stubbornness, so I made a show of putting catsup on the bun and taking a bite out of the burger. Through a mouthful of food, I said, “Happy now?”
“Not until you eat the whole thing, Sweetness,” he said turning his attention to a couple of new customers who’d wandered in off the street.
“Why does he call you Sweetness?” Dax asked.
“C’mon, man, even a pretty boy like you is not that clueless,” I said rolling my eyes at his feigned ignorance as I dipped a fry in catsup and popped it in my mouth. “My name is Payton and this is Chicago.”
“Good point,” he nodded as he took a huge bite out of his own burger. We sat eating in silence, but I could feel the many questions that hung in the air between us. He chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, and then swallowed and turned to me and asked, “So, you’re a Halas, aren’t you?”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I said rolling my eyes before calling out to Jack, “Hey Jack, pour me and Einstein another drink over here?”
“Sarcastic much?” he asked as he turned back to his burger. “Bet your life’s quite the story.”
“Isn’t everyone’s?” I said, only slightly bitterly as I immediately lost my appetite and dropped what was left of the burger on my plate. I pushed the dish away from me and yelled, “Jack, where’s my whiskey?”
“Bitch,” Dax said under his breath.
“Sweetness, you did not eat your dinner,” Jack scolded as he pulled the plate off of the bar and dropped it in a bus tub under the counter.
“Why are you giving me grief today?” I asked, suddenly irritated with his overprotective-father bit. “You know I’ve had a rough day and I don’t need to be hassled.”
“Darlin’, I’m just looking out for you,” Jack said with a wistful smile. “Like I’ve always done.”
Irritated, I looked away to avoid Jack’s eyes and felt Dax reach out under the bar and squeeze my hand. I flipped my hair out of my face and turned to say something sharp, but he’d already withdrawn his hand and I knew that saying something about it would make me look like I was more than a little unhinged and that Jack would tell me I’d had enough. My hand tingled where Dax had touched me, and I felt my face redden as I briefly imagined what else he might be able to make tingle.
“All right, one more, Sweetness, but I’m cutting you off after this one,” Jack said as he lined up three shot glasses and filled them all to the rim. I grabbed mine as Jack pushed one toward Dax and said, “Salud!”
I stopped and clinked my glass against theirs and then slammed the shot as quickly as I could, hoping that the alcohol would do its job quickly and efficiently. I just wanted to forget my mother and her ultimatum for a few hours and pretend that I wasn’t Payton Halas Lasky, whose duty it was to carry on the Halas name. I wanted to be carefree and have fun. I wanted to drink and dance and, if truth be told, I wanted to hook up with the handsome stranger sitting on the barstool next to me and lose myself in his touch.
“I gotta go pee,” I said standing up and teetering a bit before I righted myself and headed towards the bathroom. Jack had disappeared into the kitchen to get food for his other customers at the bar, and no one else noticed as Dax got up and quietly followed me.