Billionaire Bartender: A Second Chance Romance (The Buckeye Series) (9 page)

Dina grabbed Liz’s wrist and yanked her down into a nearby seat. “I thought you were good people, Liz.”

“Bill, what’s her problem?” Liz asked, addressing him, assuming he was more sober than she appeared to be.

“She’s drunk.” Bill sat too. “And just found out her dad’s been cheating on her mom. What are you doing here so late? What are they all still doing here?” He pointed to the guys who’d gathered around closer to the action.

“Don’t be a cheater.” Dina pounded on the table with their joined hands, taking Liz’s hand down with her fist. “And you.” She pounded again. “He’s taken and you don’t want to rile her up.”

Liz wrenched out of Dina’s grip, but stayed seated. She rubbed her wrist, where Dina’s fake nails had dug into her skin.
Is she talking about her dad or Oscar?

“I don’t want your half assed watered down drinks. I need a beer.” Dina stood and poked Oscar in the chest. “One beer.”

“I’m not serving you,” he answered. “We’re closed.”

“Closed he says.” She slumped back down. “This is a mistake. She loves you.”

“Who? Your mom?” Liz asked Dina, but received no answer, so she turned to Bill. “I know she’s drunk, but will someone tell me what in the hell she’s talking about?”

“You need to—” Dina slung her head back, resting it a bit on Liz’s shoulder, she moaned then fell forward and vomited.

“Shit!” Liz jumped up, but not before her shoes were soaked with the alcoholic’s purge. They were ruined the second the liquified regurgitation splashed on them.

“Damn! Take her to the bathroom, Bill,” Oscar yelled, lifting Dina up by her armpits. “Use the men’s room.”

Bill wobbled away with Dina.

“Sorry, Liz. I’ll buy you a new pair,” Oscar said, turning the corner to follow the drunken couple to the restrooms.

“I need to go rinse these.” Liz kicked off her shoes and held them by the heels with the tips of her fingers.

“Use the ladies room,” Mitch said, returning to his beer at the counter.

She rounded the corner and bumped into the man from the barstool in the shadows. He was larger and older than she’d imagined. A real stout man with a balding head of gray hair. She supposed he had to be about Mitch’s age.

“Excuse me, Liz.” He nodded, shuffling a mop bucket out to mess.

In the bathroom, Liz pondered the odd man’s sudden inclusion in the bar happenings. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be a regular, like the others she’d met. Or that he would help out if needed at the bar. His apology rang back,
he knew my name.
This puzzled her, although it shouldn’t have since it was announced at her arrival. But it was the way he said her name, like they were friends or that someone had been talking to him about her.

She washed her shoes in the sink and kept thinking about the stranger of the shadows. For the most part he stayed out of the action, but stepped in to clean vomit off the floor.
Astounding
. His strange behavior and the way all the others acted as one without regard for roles, positions, or compensation amazed her. Mitch watched the place even though he wasn’t a bartender. Oscar took inventory of the liquor on his night off. And now the man of the shadows. Maybe there really was a special bond, holding this place and these people together. If there was, she wanted to be included.

Barefoot, with wet shoes in her hands, Liz returned to the bar, welcomed only by Mitch. The trio and the man from the shadows were gone. Oscar, Bill, and Dina were also no where to be seen.

“Is it just us?” she asked, joining Mitch.

“Oscar was real put off by Dina’s outburst. He’s driving them home. Front door’s already locked.” Mitch spoke matter of factly and took her shoes. He placed them in one of the plastic bags from Berto’s. In another bag he stowed away the left over tacos. “Don’t get those two mixed up.”

“I won’t.” Liz shook her head.

Mitch led them to the back door, switched off the lights inside and pulled the door shut behind them. In the alley he locked the door and tucked the key in his pocket.

“Of course you have a key.”

“For emergencies. Oscar’s real sorry he didn’t get to say goodnight.” He rubbed his elbow against her side. “Guess that means you’ll have to come back again tomorrow.”

“There are easier ways to get women to return to the bar you know.” Liz leaned on Mitch and carefully tiptoed barefoot to her car. “I have a spare pair of sandals in the trunk. I could put them on and walk you home.”

“I’d love that.”

Liz changed her shoes and the two turned up the alleyway.

“Smell that air.” Mitch stared up into the cool autumn night sky.

“Why do you come to the Buckeye?”

“That’s an easy one.” Mitch grinned. “I feel more at home there. More then I do in my own house. Why should a man that loves life and characters of all kinds sit at home alone?”

“Would you be alone?”

He reddened and continued. “They’re my family. Angela’s like a daughter to me. I watched her grow from a teenager to a young woman.” Mitch stopped at his gate. “Oscar was much like Bill when he first came to the Buckeye. He drowned his ambitions in alcohol and never acted on any life goals. We put him to work and the gamble paid off. Now look at him. Stable, sober, and in love.”

Now Liz was blushing. “I don’t know about that.” She nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I do. Trust me. I know what is and isn’t love. You two are on your way.” Mitch pulled up the latch and swung open his gate. “Can I keep these?” He shook the bag of leftovers.

“Before you go. Can I ask? Who did Dina say was not going to be happy?”

“Don’t you worry about the rantings of an alcoholic. They never mean what they say. Don’t stay away too long this time, Liz.”

“I don’t want to make any trouble.”

“I’ve been at the Buckeye since it opened. You my dear, are the best thing to happen to us all. Follow your beautiful heart.”

“Flatterer.” She kissed Mitch on the cheek and lingered in the scent of his cologne. “I’ll be back,” she said in his ear.

Mitch flashed his cheshire grin. “See you tomorrow,” he said as a statement, not a question and stepped into his yard.

Liz closed the gate and walked back down the alley to her car, turning every few steps to see that he’d gone inside. She drove by on her way home, he’d stopped at the back porch and waved out to her. That was good enough.

Chapter Seventeen

Oscar rose before sunrise to prepare breakfast for his daughter before she left for high school. He didn’t normally get started so early in the morning, but since meeting Liz he couldn’t sleep. She took up all his thoughts day and night. “I have to get some shit done today.” He told himself pouring a cup of coffee.

“It’ll pass you know,” Stacie said.

“Get going.” He handed his daughter her backpack. “How many hearts have you broken?” He kissed the top of her head.

“Not enough.” Stacie answered a text on her phone and rushed to the door. Before she left she turned and said, “Dad, if you like her that much. Introduce her to Nana.”

She was right. Oscar’s grandmother was an excellent judge of character. Which was good for him. Since becoming a single billionaire he’d attracted too many fake people. Oscar strived to surround himself with those he could trust. If he was ever unsure, all he had to do was take a trip to Westin and his Nana would straighten him out.

I’ll take Liz to meet Nana soon. She’ll love her.

Even though the mansion sized home had multiple bedrooms, a study, an office, a media room, a den, and a sitting area in his master suite, Oscar chose to work from home sitting in his breakfast nook. The light was plentiful in the mornings and he could see out into the back gardens. It was chilly in November, but in the spring he’d open the windows for a nice breeze.

As a bonus it was near the kitchen and the adjacent media room where Stacie frequently hung out after school when she was home.

Oscar regretted not fighting harder to get partial custody of Stacie when she was younger. But he was on the road a lot back then and there was his drinking. It was a time in his life he would’ve blocked out all together if it hadn’t been for his little girl.

Her love and finding the Buckeye Bar years ago saved him and sobered him up. It also got him in the right track to purchase his first restaurant, then the next, and the next. If it hadn’t been for Mitch’s good word to the owner, well Oscar dared not think of which direction his life would’ve taken a turn for.

Now with Mitch’s investment in his life and Oscar’s investment in other’s lives through buying family owned restaurants, he had the security in the bank he needed to support his family. That meant Stacie lived with him in the city and visited her mother on the weekends. She’d moved back to their home town, Westin and he even helped her start her own business. They’re relationship was cordial, but he preferred not to see her much.

Taking care of business for his corporation, Westwall could usually be done with phone calls and video chats during the day. He checked in, approved inventory orders, marketing budgets, and remodeling specs for his locations. Decisions he gladly made and footed the bill for his sometimes indecisive owners. Being hands on wasn’t always the case. If needed he was a silent investor in many of the cornucopia of restaurants he owned a stake in. Many of the locations from steakhouses to dessert shops had well rounded owners, they just needed the support of a billionaire to push them to improve their earnings. Oscar was happy to fill in any role that was needed to see success for his investments.

Done. Now . . .
he pulled up the photos of Halloween on his phone. Zooming in on Liz he took in her features.
Why did you walk into my bar?

His screen changed abruptly to a shot of Mitch and his number.

“Hello,” Oscar said, answering the phone.

“I need your help. It’s my PC again,” Mitch said on the other end of the call.

“You want me to come over? Then we’ll go to lunch.”

“Sounds good, but we’ll eat in. I have some Anasazi beans cooking in the crock.”

“Sure thing. See you in thirty.”

When Oscar arrived at Mitch’s he let himself in through the alleyway gate. Mitch was sitting on the back porch swing. “Hey stranger. Tell me again what you need looked at.”

Mitch lifted his laptop of his knees and shook it. “Keeps flashing damn ads at me.”

“This is a piece of crap. Let me buy you a new one.” Oscar, carefully stepped over the black power cord that ran from the side of the laptop, down to the ground, and in the back door of the house. Then sat down next to Mitch on the swing.

“I don’t need your fancy gadgets. This one works fine. It has all my files saved on it.”

“I can fix that too.” Oscar produced a USB stick from his pocket. “Let’s back it up again. Then I’m taking you to buy a new one.”

“I won’t hear it. I need this machine to do research.”

Now it was clear. Mitch wasn’t afraid of loosing his carefully crafted stories. Those were published, printed, and saved multiple places. He was afraid of losing his porn pictures. “Mitch. A new machine means more memory.” Oscar emphasized words to try and make things clear. “More
space
to save
things
. Better graphics to
see things
. And I can transfer
all your things
.”

“Well hell. If it means a clearer view, then I’m in.” Mitch rose and stepped to the back door. “But first we eat and you talk about Liz.”

Here he goes, the perpetual matchmaker. Can’t stop these erotica writers.

Mitch returned with two bowls of beans. He handed one to Oscar and stepped back over to his place on the swing.

“Tell me again about these beans,” Oscar said before Mitch could hint about Liz again.

“The best beans on the planet. Anasazi’s are sweeter than pinto and cook in less than two hours. Mmm.” Mitch shoveled in a bite. “Now stop stalling.”

Oscar took a bite of the dish. “I think you have something here. Do you think we could serve them at Berto’s or the diner?”

“I know you’re in love with her. When are you going to tell her who you really are?”

“I can’t. She left her ex because of his money. Look.” Oscar pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contact list to a number that was attributed as “Private.” “He’s a real good investigator. With one call I’d have all the info I needed on Liz’s ex. The property he owns, the debt he has. I could help her out. Take care of him,” he sighed. “But she doesn’t want revenge. And she can’t be bought. She’s an ordinary girl looking for love. To her I’m a typical bartender doing the same. That’s why I want her.”

“She is something special. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that spark. You two inspired me.” Mitch set down his bowl of beans and picked up his laptop. “See here.” He showed him a mock up cover of an ebook. “The Sting of Zombie Love. I expect it will get quite a few downloads.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Buy the book.”

“How about I buy you a new laptop instead.”

Chapter Eighteen

After leaving Mitch, Oscar drove to his next meeting of the day. It was at the Preston Hotel and he was sure Anasazi beans were not on the menu. Stepping out of his truck, he leaned back in and pulled out a suit jacket to wear over his button down shirt. He was there to meet with a fellow billionaire, one that liked to “look the part.” Whenever they met, Oscar felt compelled to play along with Grant’s idea of a billionaire.

The Wine Club in the lobby of the Preston was the opposite of the Buckeye, The decor was bright, open and shiny with metallic and glass accents. The only reason they met there was that Grant Finnerty, billionaire and artist owned the Preston Hotel. He was controlling and obsessed with his own artwork that he hardly agreed to meet anywhere that didn’t have a glass chandelier or at least a blown glass sculpture of his on the premises.

“Right this way,” the hostess said, escorting Oscar back to a table tucked in the corner at the end of the bar. “Mr. Finnerty is a few minutes out. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“No thank you. Bottled water please.” Oscar had never been a wine drinker, not even in his darkest days. Not even their tiny tasting glasses tempted him.