Eric scanned the bar, taking additional time to admire a few of the women. After getting an eyeful of the women San Diego’s lush suburb had to offer, he looked at Franky. “Nice bar.”

Franky shot me an awkward glance, and then gave Eric a nod. “Thanks. What can I get you?”

“Michelob Ultra.”

“Bottle or glass?”

“Bottle.”

He looked at me. I raised my eyebrows, cocked my head to the side, and gave him my best are you fucking kidding me look.

“One Ultra, one margarita.” He turned away.

I wondered where the attitude came from, and decided to ask when he returned with our drinks. The only thing I could come up with was that I’d brought Eric in the bar. I had my reasons, and I was sure as soon as he heard them, he’d understand fully.

“How’d you both get out of there without raising eyebrows?” he asked over his shoulder.

“There’s only one camera crew when it’s late,” I said. “We just kind of left. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Eric leaned onto the bar, and then looked at me. “So, you come in here quite a bit?”

“Pretty much every day.”

Franky slid Eric the Ultra and handed me the margarita. I took a sip and almost spit it on the bar. The main ingredient was missing. Or, at least it seemed so to my pickled taste buds. I scrunched my nose in disgust. “Did you forget something?”

A condescending look shot from his eyes. “You’ve had enough for one day.”

I lowered the glass. “Since when do you make decisions for me?”

He crossed his arms. “Since now.”

“If I’m paying for it, I should get what I ordered.”

“When was the last time you paid for a drink in here?” he asked in a dismissive tone.

I thought about it, and drew a complete blank. Obviously, it had been a while. I raised my index finger. “I’ve got money.”

It was a complete lie. I was out of money, and had no idea how I was going to make it until the end of the show without turning tricks.

Franky huffed a dry laugh and walked to the far end of the bar.

Eric looked at me over the top of his bottle. “How long you and him been seeing each other?”

Is it that obvious?

I pushed my glass of margarita-flavored Kool-Aid to the side and tried to act surprised by his claim. “Wait. What?”

He arched an argumentative eyebrow.

I glanced at Franky. He was talking to two men at the end of the bar. I looked at Eric. “We’re not seeing each other. Well, not really.”

He took another sip of beer, and then turned his bar stool to the side. “I’m listening.”

I let out a sigh. “I was going to tell you everything here in a few minutes. After we had a few drinks.”

“It isn’t like you’re shy or anything,” he said with a laugh. “You can tell me now.”

It wasn’t as much fun telling him on his terms, and it certainly wasn’t as easy without a drink in my hand. I reached for the glass, took a sip, and struggled to choke down the vile substance.

As I came to terms with the fact that I’d more than likely had my last drink of the night, I studied him. Eric was much different in person than I expected him to be. He was big, muscular, handsome, and docile. Describing him as polite would be an understatement. While I sat on my stool with my drink dangling from my fingertips, I began to wonder just why he’d agreed to do the show.

“What brought you here?” I asked.

His brow wrinkled. “Huh?”

“Why did you agree to do this show?”

His eyes fell to the bar. He seemed deep in thought for a moment, and then he looked at me. “I don’t know. I thought it would be cool to be on T.V. and stuff.”

I took a sip of my drink and almost barfed. After pushing it so far away that I wouldn’t be tempted to take another sip, I met his gaze. “Did you come here hoping you’d end up in a relationship with me?”

He reached for his beer, took a drink, and then wiped his mouth on his forearm. His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Truthfully?”

I grinned. “Yeah.”

“No.”

I chuckled at his honesty. “What did you hope to get from me?”

He glanced at my boobs and then met my curious gaze. “Truthfully?”

“Of course.”

“I’m really kind of shy, and not good at meeting people.” He gave an almost apologetic shrug. “I just hoped maybe we’d, you know...”

He was cute in a tan muscular innocent big-dicked teddy bear kind of way. I couldn’t help but smile. “You wanted to fuck me?”

His face washed with embarrassment and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Yeah.”

It was the best news he could have given me. My plan just might work. With Franky’s help, it could quite possibly be a win-win for us all. I felt flush with excitement.

“I’ve got an idea that you might like,” I said. “Actually, I think you’ll love it. It’s kind of weird, though.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Weird how?”

I decided to use his line. “Truthfully?” I asked mockingly.

He grinned. “Of course.”

“When this show is over, I’m hoping to get with Franky.” I tossed my head toward the end of the bar. “The bartender.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“But I was feeling bad for not wanting to be with you. So, I came up with this idea, and it includes you having sex with hot women. Maybe a lot of them.”

He drank the rest of his beer in one gulp, and then pushed the empty bottle aside. “You’ve got my undivided attention.”

I took a deep breath, and then divulged my plan. “We’re going to use your big dick to our advantage. I want Franky to help us get a couple women from his bar. We take them back to the house, you fuck them, and we’ll just have fun with it. Hang out at the pool, grill steaks, drink beers, and bang women. Then, when your two weeks is up, you’ll go home happy.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“In the end, I’ll get my bartender. So, we both end up happy.”

He rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Sounds fun. If it works, that is. And, what do you mean we?”

“Huh?”

“You said we take them back home. You’re not going to--”

“Oh. No. I’m just doing it for entertainment value.” I considered telling him about Les, but opted to keep my mouth shut for the time being. “I want to make sure I keep everything on the up and up with Franky, so this will keep you from hitting on me, and keep me from doing anything stupid.”

“You don’t trust yourself?”

“Not when I’m drunk.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Lately? Every day.”

He chuckled. “Oh.”

“We’re going to have to tell Franky something about how I came about seeing your cock, though. I don’t want him to know about the pool thing. That was a good example of me being an idiot when I’m drunk.”

“I’ll just say it fell out. It happens all the time when I get a little excited.”

I laughed. “Sounds good.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Franky.

“Shhh. Here he comes.”

He sauntered along the back of the bar until he was across from us.

He looked at Eric. “Another Ultra?”

“Sure.”

He grabbed a beer from the cooler and handed it to Eric. “So, what do you think of the house?”

“It’s nice as fuck. Far cry from my place back in Nebraska.”

Franky shot him a look. “Nebraska? I’d have figured you for a So-Cal native.”

“Nope. Cornhusker. Born and raised.”

Franky nodded toward the margarita that was ten feet from my grasp. “You didn’t finish your drink.”

“I’m done for the night. I want to see what you think about something.”

He began to wipe the moisture form the surface of the bar. “What’s that?”

“I explained to Eric that I wasn’t interested in him. Then, he told me he was hoping to get laid while he was here. Together, we came up with a plan.”

“You told him that?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

He looked at Eric.

Eric shrugged. “Yep.”

He looked at me, grinned, and shook his head. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“You help him pick up women from the bar, and he takes them home. It’ll make for good drama on the show, it’ll let me focus on you, and it’ll keep him focused on someone other than me.”

He crossed his arms and looked at me. Pride radiated from his eyes. “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say in six weeks.”