Читать книгу Killer Summer - Lynda Curnyn, Lynda Curnyn - Страница 10

Nick

Women. You can’t live with them and you can’t…

“I’m having a few beers, for chrissakes, Bern. What’s the big deal?” I said into my cell phone, wishing my reception, which was usually nonexistent at The Inn, would give out at this point. This conversation had already gone on way too long. As in six months too long. But this was what Bernadine and I had come to.

“So you’re trying to tell me you’re just sitting in a bar on a Saturday night all by yourself,” she said, for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“It’s Kismet, Bern. There’s nothing else to do.” I almost pointed out that she might have been here with me, if she hadn’t up and moved to San Francisco six months earlier. But I really didn’t want to start that argument again. This long-distance relationship stuff sucked big-time, especially when the woman in question got jealous if I so much as sneezed in the vicinity of another woman.

“And there’s no one there with you?” she asked now.

I looked around at the crowd lining the bar and surrounding the pool table. “Well, there are lots of people here, Bern. But even if I was with someone, don’t you think I might have blown my chances with her, considering that I’ve been on this phone arguing with you for the past fifteen minutes?”

“Fuck you, Nick.”

Click.

Shit. That sure wasn’t my reception going out.

“Another beer, dude?” asked the bartender as I put my cell phone down on the bar once more.

I picked up my beer bottle, which was down to the last quarter. The last quarter of my fourth beer and she still wasn’t here. Okay, so I hadn’t been completely honest with Bern. I was waiting for someone, and, yes, someone female, but it wasn’t like that. At least, not on my end anyway. This was strictly business, but from the way things were going so far, it looked like I might have to fuck Maggie, if only to get the upper hand in this deal we were working on. Though at the moment, I had no hand to play. It was almost nine-thirty already. I’d been waiting for her nearly two hours. Actually, I’d moved on from waiting to just simply drinking. Maybe Maggie had gotten that spice or whatever she was missing for her meal and decided to stay home and cook after all. Which didn’t make sense, seeing as Sage had already taken off and Tom had given up and gone over to a friend’s house. He was pissed and I couldn’t blame him. Surely she could have figured out something else to do with all those lamp chops besides whatever the hell was called for in that recipe she was making. But I could see Maggie was like a dog with a bone when it came to her dinner parties. She was pretty upset when she realized her dinner plan was not happening tonight. I thought I had managed to talk her out of cooking, even offered to buy her a burger at The Inn. She told me she just needed to clean up the aborted dinner she’d started. “I’ll meet you at The Inn in half an hour,” she’d said. Yeah, right. Time is money, babe. And since it was her money we were talking about, you’d think she’d be a little more punctual.

“Another beer, dude?”

“I’m thinking, man,” I replied.

“Don’t think too hard,” the bartender said with a chuckle before he ambled away.

Yeah, yeah, buddy. Why don’t you go blow a few more brain cells at the other end of the bar?

I looked at my near-empty beer. I shouldn’t have another. And not just because I was outta cash. It was the principle of the thing, really. I’m not sure what principle exactly—but all I know is that I shouldn’t be paying five bucks a pop for beer when I got a six-pack I paid nine bucks for at the house. Not that I felt like going back there. It was the kind of thing four beers on an empty stomach could do to a guy. I suddenly had the urge to party all night. Come to think of it, there were some pretty hot chicks over there by the pool table.

See what you’ve done now, Bern? You’re driving me to other women.

Yeah, as if one woman wasn’t enough trouble. I had the feeling that getting involved with Maggie—even on a business level—was going to be trouble, too, which was why I was hoping to talk to her tonight. But since she was the first person to show a real interest in my company—even suggested she was going to put her money where her mouth was—I had to treat the matter…delicately.

Still, I was grateful for Maggie’s interest in my latest venture. In fact, when she first said she wanted to invest in the music label I’m starting up, I was pretty fucking pumped. Capital was the only thing I was lacking. I had a business plan, even had a band lined up for the launch, which was going to be huge with all the PR I was planning. Even Sage was excited about my ideas, and Sage didn’t get excited about anything I did ever since I lost all that money in that pyramid scheme. The only thing she seemed to get excited about lately was this damn beach house. Had some grand idea that getting me and Zoe out here for the summer would be like high school all over again. Sage loved high school. Why wouldn’t she? She was like the fucking mayor of Babylon High. She knew everyone. And since me and Zoe were her best friends, everyone knew us, too.

Fire Island was more like high school than I even imagined it would be. Sage also knew everyone on Fire Island, but then she had been coming out here three summers already. Tonight I’d had another little taste of high school when Sage ditched me to hang out with that dock boy. No one could get between Sage and her booty.

I didn’t mind. What Sage didn’t know was that my little investment in this share was paying off big, in ways I hadn’t expected.

Yeah, I had hoped to find investors when I came out here. I’m not stupid. I knew there were not a few people out here that might have money to sink into a solid business investment such as Revelation Records. I just hadn’t expected one of those people to be Maggie Landon. I didn’t even know her, which is probably why our first weekend out here I started telling her about the label I was planning. Just making conversation, you know? Tom was out fishing, Zoe was taking a jog, Sage was down by the beach, working on that dock boy she was probably sleeping with right about now, and I was stuck in the house with Maggie, mostly because the sun was making me nauseous and I was hungry. I also knew that if Maggie wasn’t on the beach, she was in the house cooking. She was like some kind of Martha Stewart on speed, the way she was always whipping something together. When Maggie cooked, she was usually looking for someone to sample the goods. And since it was lunchtime, and since I thought a nice beer in the cool house might be a good idea, I went inside.

Two beers later, I was chowing down on leftover filet mignon that Maggie had made sandwiches with on some crusty bread. I was feeling pretty good—so good in fact, I started telling her about my label, in case she had the idea that I was just some sandwich-mooching shareholder. I guess I didn’t expect her to get so excited about it. At first, I thought she just wanted to fuck me. She had that greedy look women get sometimes when they’ve had too much wine, and she’d had three glasses of white to my two beers and it was only 3:00 p.m. Then she said she had a little money set aside she’d wanted to do something with, which wasn’t hard to believe, considering she and Tom not only own the oceanfront spread we’re staying in this summer, but a triplex on the Upper East Side. She started asking details, like what my promotional plans were and whatnot. So I told her, and she was getting more and more excited. Could have been that she’d cracked a second bottle of wine, but the next thing you know, she’s talking dollars. As in the dollars she thought I might need to get started. Her dollars. It was almost too much to believe, but as it turned out, Maggie Landon had been a bona fide rock-and-roller at one time in her life. Over glass of wine number four, she told me that she’d followed the Dead around as a teenager. Not that I’m a Dead fan, but I wasn’t about to argue her taste in music at that point. I guess I should have figured she had some interest in good old-fashioned rock and roll, considering she named her dog Janis Joplin. Not that I’m a fan of Janis either, but I’m capable of showing a little respect for talent—especially when Maggie seemed ready to open her prissy little pocketbook.

I hadn’t told Sage about Maggie yet, mostly because I don’t like to talk about things that I think are gonna happen until they happen. Now I was glad I hadn’t, because something about the Maggie situation was funky. For one thing, she begged me not to tell Tom about our discussion. Which kinda weirded me out a little, ’cause I know she’s attracted to me by the way she’s always touching me. You should have seen the way she looked at me when she asked me to keep our plans a secret from Tom. Made me feel like she was asking for something else, you know what I’m saying? Of course, she said it was because it was her money and Tom didn’t have a say over what she did with her money, which was weird, too, ’cause they’re married and shit.

Now there’s a good reason not to get married: women are fucking sneaky. Just like Bern. Who knew she had even applied for a job in San Francisco until suddenly she was moving out of our apartment. Of course, she wanted me to come. Like I got nothing better to do than follow her around. She knew I was trying to get Revelation off the ground.

At least Maggie understands my dreams a little bit. Maybe a little too much. That’s why I need to talk to her before things get outta hand. She keeps referring to the business plan for Revelation in the plural. As in, “our” business plan.

Which kinda pisses me off, you know? Her money notwithstanding, this is my business plan. That’s the thing about people with money. As soon as they offer to put a little down, they think they own you. And Maggie—well, let’s just say she’s more territorial than most. I started to explain my position after Tom left tonight, but she seemed a tad wound up. Actually, she looked a little pissed herself, even muttered something that suggested she might not be so willing to put up money for a venture she didn’t have a voice in. Which was why I suggested perhaps we should discuss it further over drinks. I wasn’t worried. I figured I could get her to see things from my point of view over a couple of cocktails. If there was one thing I could handle, it was chicks. All this required was a little Maggie-management. As soon as she got here, I would explain that I was going to be handling the business plan and that she would be more like a silent partner. As soon as she got here, I would set her straight.

If she ever got here.

“Dude, what’s it gonna be? Another beer or what?”

I glared at him. This guy was a pest. Even if I had any money left, I wouldn’t buy another beer here.

Maybe it was the reminder I was broke that had me standing up. “Nah, I’m outta here, man.”

There was no use waiting any longer. Besides, I’m not really the type to wait around for anyone. Now that I had a few beers in me, it was time to talk business. And the first order of business was finding Maggie.

And letting her know just who was boss.