Chapter 7
Declan
“Again, I apologize for not being able to make the school event last weekend,” my prospective client, former pro football star Josh “Diesel” Davis said regretfully as he sat across from my desk.
“No problem, Mr. Davis. I understand that sometimes things come up and we have no control over them,” I replied with a nod.
“Yeah, but I know how much those little rug-rats were looking forward to finding out who the surprise guest speaker was,” he said, looking down at his hands. He had them folded in his lap.
Josh was at least six-foot-three and at least 250 pounds. He had once been the star quarterback for the Buffalo Bisons, a professional football team. After a couple of years on the field, he had suffered a pretty serious injury and had to retire early. He was still active off the field, though, and his popularity in the media was holding strong.
This guy could possibly turn out to be quite an asset for the company. That was, if he actually started showing up.
* * * * *
“So, what do you think about Josh?” my dad asked as he and I sat across from each other at Chez D’Italiano restaurant.
It was my dad’s favorite place to eat—a five-star eatery that specialized in both French and Italian cuisine. He and I had been coming here since I was a young kid. He used to bring my mother here often, too, for their anniversaries and birthday dinners. I had also had a huge dinner party here back when I was in my early twenties.
The food was incredible—even better than that of the Lovehouse in Central Park—and the atmosphere was even more relaxing and laidback. That was probably one of the main reasons why my dad preferred eating here when it came to family and/or business meeting matters.
“Have you ever had the quiche here?” he asked as he looked over the menu. He picked up his bourbon on the rocks, took a sip, and then set it back down on the red wooden table.
“Yes, and it’s delicious,” I replied, knowing full well that my dad already knew I’d had the quiche before. That was just his own unique and sometimes utterly annoying way of making idle conversation before he decided to clear his throat and get down to the bigger, more important things.
“Hmm,” he said with a thoughtful look on his face as he turned the page of the menu.
His forehead seemed to have a new wrinkle forming just above his thick, dark eyebrows. Even though he still looked pretty damned good for a man in his sixties, I could tell that age was finally starting to catch up to him. Personally, I was just hoping that he would end up stuffing his face and forgetting that we were here to talk about Josh Davis.
“The chicken dishes are really good,” I pointed out casually as I scrolled through the Italian section of the elaborately detailed selections.
“Yeah, I think I’m in the mood for some seafood, though,” he said with a sigh and turned the menu page, yet again.
Just then, the waitress arrived and smiled down at us.
“So, are you gentlemen ready to order?” she asked, pulling her pen and notepad out of the pocket of her fancy black apron.
She was about five-foot-four with short dirty blond hair and brown, doe-like eyes. I couldn’t help but to think of how much her eyes reminded me of Emma’s. Without even realizing it, I caught myself smiling at her.
“I’ll have the chicken manicotti,” I told her. “With extra sauce on the side, please.”
“Very well, good choice, sir,” she said with a grin as she wrote my order down on her notepad. She turned her attention over to my father, who was still looking at his menu. “And for you, sir?”
“Ummm, I think I’ll have the seafood spectacular,” he said, without even looking up.
“Okay, sir, and would you like the dinner roll and salad as well?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” he said, closing his menu as he spoke.
“Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll take those menus out of your way,” she said before heading off.
“So how did the meeting with that Josh kid go?” he asked me, taking another sip of his bourbon.
“It went pretty well, I would say,” I replied.
“Well, do we have an endorsement deal or not?” he asked sternly.
“I’m still working on it,” I said.
“Do you realize how important this guy could be for our company’s reputation?” my dad asked.
“Yes, of course, I do,” I said, struggling to stifle my annoyance.
“Then you need to lock this shit down—and fast, before another company picks him up!”
* * * * *
My meeting with my dad had me a little bit more stressed out than usual. The next day at the office, I found myself in a somewhat somber mood. The only person I wanted to see was Emma. She was definitely on my mind and I wanted to take her somewhere she’d never been before and show her some culture. First I had to track her down. I hoped it wouldn’t be too hard.
“What are you up to, tiger?”
I looked up from my desk to see Vivian standing in the doorway of my office. She had the box of bourbon in her arms again. I had almost forgotten that I’d told her we’d drink some of it today.
“Just thinking about possibly getting away from the office for a while,” I said, stretching my arms out over my head.
“Well, then, sounds like the perfect time for a drink,” she said with a seductive grin. She was dressed in one of her more provocative dresses. It was a light blue color and accentuated her cleavage.
After noticing said cleavage, I looked away. I still wanted to find Emma.
Vivian closed my office door behind her and sat down in the chair in front of my desk, crossing her long legs so that her upper thigh was exposed damned-near up to her ass cheek. She was prattled on about something or other as she filled two shot glasses, but I was busy daydreaming about the date I was planning for Emma.
We toasted to ten years in the making and even better days ahead as we downed a few shots together. Honestly, my mind wasn’t really on anything else but Emma, but Vivian was pretty adamant about how hard she’d been working around the office.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said casually. “I’m starting to feel a bit overworked myself. I need some more romance in my life.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” she said with a flirtatious giggle. “Here’s to more romance in our lives!”
We clinked our shot glasses together and downed another drink.