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“Please, call me Troy,” I said, taking the menu from her as if I needed it.
I already knew what I wanted. It was the same thing I drank most nights.
“I’ll have an old fashioned. The one with the smoked cherry, please.”
“Coming right up,” she said.
I sighed and leaned back in the cognac leather barstool, taking in the view of the nearly empty bar and the short skirt of the bartender that revealed just enough to beg for more. She knew what she was doing.
“Troy?” said a voice behind me.
I turned and saw one of the investment managers from my father’s firm approaching me with a petite platinum blonde on his arm.
“Jeremy,” I said with a nod.
“You here all by yourself?” he asked, looking at the empty seats to my left and right.
“It would seem that way,” I answered.
“Well, I’m sure it won’t be for long,” he said, eyeing the bartender, who had returned with my drink.
“Here you go, Troy,” she said with an emphasis on my first name.
She slid my drink over, smoke still rising from the top in a gray haze. I thanked her and I swore I could somehow hear the smirk that spread across Jeremy’s face as he watched the flirtatious encounter before him. God, the guy was such a prick. I was sure he would report back to my father that I was out at the bar on a Monday night, but it didn’t stop me from taking a long sip of my drink.
I was thirty-eight years old. I didn’t need a babysitter. Although, I was sure my father would disagree. It seemed like he had eyes everywhere filling him in on everything I did, in and out of the office. If they didn’t work for him, it was the press feeding him information on page six.
“Care to join?” I asked somewhat reluctantly, knowing it was the polite thing to do. I didn’t like the guy, but he did work at my father’s firm. And I was a businessman. It was best to keep things cordial.
“Sure. You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart?” he asked the girl on his arm.
She shook her head no and sat beside him at the bar.
“So, how are things at your firm?” asked Jeremy as he handed his date a menu. Not bothering to introduce her to me. She would probably be gone by morning. There was no point. Plus, I doubted his wife would be too keen on him introducing his mistress to colleagues.
“Things are good. Busy,” I replied.
The good part was a lie. The busy part was true.
Ever since I branched out from under my father to start my own hedge fund firm, I had been busting my ass trying to prove that I was good enough to do it. Still, it never would have even left the ground if it weren’t my father, and everyone knew that. My firm was a subsidiary under my father’s company, which was one of the most successful investment firms in the country. His legacy was known far and wide, and my reputation as his son who grew up with a silver spoon meant that no one took me seriously.
It didn’t matter that I was the top of my class for my undergrad or for my MBA, I was always going to be seen as the son of Bryson Gunner. The legendary investment banker. He wouldn’t let me forget it either.
Today at work was particularly stressful, which was why I usually ended up here for a drink or two after dinner. Bourbon always mellowed me out after a long day at the office. So did a flirtatious bartender with legs for days.
“Busy is good,” said Jeremy. “It means you’re making money. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” he said, nudging his date.
I wondered if he had forgotten her name or by some off chance her name was actually sweetheart. The thought made me laugh quietly to myself before I took another sip of bourbon.
Jeremy shot me a look, but seemed to let it go as he waved down the bartender.
“We’ll take a cosmopolitan and a double whiskey on the rocks.”
“Coming right up,” said the bartender.
When she walked away, Jeremy’s eyes lingered where every man’s eyes in the place did before he turned to me and wiggled his eyebrows at me.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” he said under his breath.