assistant or intern or niece, or if you were playing the world’s most masterful game of chess with me.”
She slides a martini in front of me. “With you? How could me leaving with CeeCee have anything to do with you?”
I shrug. “It was an event for music students, so, I assumed you had to be an aspiring pop star with a demo in your pocket, like everyone else in the building. I thought you’d seen my long line and decided you’d get far more traction out of leaving with CeeCee—and gambling on me tracking you down tomorrow—than staying and trying to compete for my attention.”
She looks shocked. “Damn. That’s quite a leap. When I left with CeeCee, I was sure I’d never see you again. I can’t even imagine thinking two moves ahead like you’ve suggested.”
Jesus, she’s such a bullshitter. “Yeah, well, if you’d actually been a music student who wanted to use me for more than my hot body,” I say, “then I guarantee you’d not only have played chess with me, you’d have been fucking Bobby Fischer.”
“Who’s that?”
I smile to myself. For a second there, I’d forgotten how young she is. “He’s generally regarded as the best chess player who ever lived.”
“Oh.”
“After observing you, I’ve got no doubt you’d be fully capable of playing chess like him, if the need arose.” I sip Josh’s Scotch again. “Seriously, Georgina, you wouldn’t believe the shit people do to get my attention. Nothing surprises me anymore.” I take a sip of the martini she slides across the bar and suddenly realize she looks sincerely offended by something I’ve said. “Oh, come on. Really? Don’t act like I’ve slandered you by calling you out, Little Miss Journalism Student Who Goes To A Music Event to Ambush CeeCee Rafael. You’re a hustler, baby. Scrappy and relentless. I’ve seen the way you expertly hypnotize your customers, including me, into giving you big tips. Don’t even try to pretend you’re not fully capable of playing chess as masterfully as Bobby Fischer.”
She blushes crimson, letting me know I’ve pegged her right.
“But it’s all good, Georgie girl. I’m a chess-playing hustler, too. In fact, one of my mantras in life is ‘All good things come to those who hustle.’” I raise my glass to her. “To being scrappy and relentless. To hustling and playing chess.”
She slides my third martini in front of me, looking tentative. But after a moment, a delightful sort of “what the fuck” expression washes over her gorgeous features. She grabs one of the martinis and clinks my glass with it. “To playing chess.” She grins. “Even more masterfully than Bobby Fischer.”
Chapter 9
Georgina
“You about done over here?” Marcus asks, appearing out of nowhere next to me. “We’re slammed, Georgie. Now isn’t the time to take an extra-long break.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Rivers here just—”
“Ordered ten more drinks,” Reed interjects. He pulls out his wallet, and places another Benjamin onto the bar—this one, for Marcus. “A little something for the extra load you’ve been carrying because I’ve monopolized Georgina’s attention.”
Marcus glares at the bill on the bar before returning to me. “You need help making his order?”
“No. They’re all pretty simple drinks.”
“And I’m in no rush,” Reed supplies.
“I’ll work like a bunny,” I say. “Sorry I’ve been MIA.”
“Here’s another hundred for you, man,” Reed says, placing another bill next to the first. “I didn’t think about how me monopolizing Georgina was impacting your night. Hopefully, this will make up for it.”
Marcus mutters something under his breath. But, ultimately, he scoops up the cash and shuffles away, looking thoroughly annoyed as he goes.
“Oh, God. It killed him to take that money from you,” I say, laughing.
Reed resumes his bar stool. “And yet, he took it. Proving, once again, the accuracy of one of my favorite mantras: ‘Everybody’s got a price. To get what you want from someone, you just have to figure out what their price is, and bribe the shit out of them with it.’”
I scowl. “That’s one of your favorite mantras? Jeez, Reed. That’s dark.”
“I’m wildly successful in a cut-throat industry. You expect my favorite mantras to be about rainbows and unicorns and singing ‘Kumbaya’?”
I squint at him. Is it weird I’m not sure I like him, but I’m hella certain I want to fuck the living hell out of him? “Do you actually want another ten drinks, or was that just a ruse to get Marcus out of my hair?”
“Heck yeah, I want ten drinks. Let’s give my buddies a magical mystery tour