Page 17 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

She pats the booth beside her. “Dad thought it would be fun for the three of us to catch up.” Red flags fly up as my gaze darts between them. Not only is there no backup for me in managing Marlow if this goes off the rails, but she’ll flip if she finds out I met with her dad just yesterday.Thanks, Bob.

This should be fun . . .

Reaching forward, Bob and I shake hands. “Good to see you again, Mr. Marché.” I slide into the booth.

“Bob works.” His gruff voice is loud enough to draw the attention of the surrounding tables. “Marlow and I were just discussing cryptocurrency. I’m dabbling. Got any good tips for me?”

“Just dabbling myself. It’s like the Wild West. You never know if you’ll strike gold or lose it all.”

Marlow sits in the middle of us with a big grin, playing innocent. She knew it would only be us when she invited me. It would have been nice to be in on the plan, especially since he’s now my client. The omission means it was on purpose and leaves me in a vulnerable position. Do I treat him like a client or her dad? I’ve known him for years, and we’ve always been friendly and gotten along, but things have changed in the past thirty-six hours. And more than just professionally. I shoot Marlow a glare. I may not know why she only invited me, but everything she does has a reason behind it.

When she whispers, “Don’t hate me,” my face must say everything I haven’t. Moving on like everything is A-OK, she says, “We ordered drinks while we were waiting. Whiskey neat, right?”

“That works.” Make it a double if he tells Marlow I’m representing him before the first course.

“So, here we are . . .”

She’s quick to add, “Let’s order. I’m starving.”

The drinks are delivered, and I immediately take my glass and tip it back, my manners flying out the window. A buzz in my pocket has me slipping my phone from it and peeking down at it. Jackson:Damn, dude. Five minutes in and Miami is up by two. That wager you let ride is gonna be mine.

It’s tempting to shit-talk back, but again, I’m riding the professional line here.

“Everything okay?” Marlow asks, leaning over with the menu in hand.

“It’s Jackson. He’s watching the game.”

“Football?”

“Basketball.”

“Ah.” Returning her attention to the menu, she taps it. “I’m thinking about the halibut.”

I decide on the steak and set the menu back on the table. Glancing up, I ask Bob, “How’s your stay in New York?”

“Lots of meetings. There always are when money is involved.” Setting his napkin on the table, he slides out of the booth. “Will you excuse me? There’s a producer at the bar who I’ve been trying to connect with while here.”

“Sure,” Marlow says, but as soon as he leaves, she looks at me. “I’m so sorry, Rad. I hate putting you in this position, but I was nervous about this dinner, and I knew you would back me up when the shit hit the fan.”

“Why are you nervous, and what shit are we talking about?”

We both glance toward the bar just as Bob reaches it. When we turn back, she grabs a frantic hold of my wrist. “I think he’s going to cut me off, and then what will I do? I’ll be homeless and will have to sell my belongings to Sotheby’s to auction off to the highest bidder or, worse, the only bidder.”

“Slow down, Marlow. Maybe he just wants to have dinner with you.”

“It’s bad news. I can feel it. Something is off.” Tapping a nail to the wood table, she says, “He’s been here for weeks but just told me the other day. He’s been busy in endless meetings, and his current wife isn’t here. It’s fishy if you ask me.”

“Or he’s been busy working,” I say. I’m not proud of myself for lying, but again, this is where we are.

“You’re probably right. I’m glad you’re here anyway. I knew you could temper the situation no matter how it plays out.” Rolling her eyes, she laughs. “He loves you.”

I catch sight of Bob returning and whisper, “I’ll run interference if you need it, but I want you to remember that anything he says, you can handle.”

She nods and looks up. “How’d that go, Daddy?”

Bob arrives with the server, and says, “Better than expected. We set up a meeting for Friday.”

After we place our order, Bob angles toward Marlow. As much as I don’t want the fact that I already know about the divorce coming out, that beats her being financially cut off. “Marlow, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, and Rad being here seems like a fitting opportunity.” Here it comes . . .

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