Page 97 of The Bet
Chapter 29
“You sure you only want one portion of each?”
“How much do you think I can eat?”
Xavier placed the order at the fancy bar he’d practically begged her to come to.
They were sitting outside on the rooftop terrace of this swanky place, she’d never heard of. It had big leather couches, and seats with soft cushions, and yellow lamps and rich red curtains. It felt as if she was in some exotic faraway place, not at the top of a bar in New York. And the people here, those rich, snobby types, not like the people she’d met at Shoemoney’s house. These were young and hip and trendy.
Cara would be pea green with envy when Izzy told her.
They were both supposed to have gone out tonight, but after her mother called earlier, complaining about her father and how his ‘moods were worse than ever.’ Izzy had lost the heart to do anything. Cara had gone out without her and Izzy had stayed at home.
She dreaded those phone calls from home because they usually signaled bad news, or oftentimes, her mother just wanted to offload. Winter time wasn’t a good time for her father. It made things worse and some days he couldn’t get out of bed. But they needed him to. Her mother’s job at the local supermarket only went so far. Sometimes Izzy wished she and Owen could fast forward a few years, so that they could help, in any way, so their father could stop working.
Xavier’s subsequent call had been a lifebuoy in an otherwise miserable sea of an evening and here she was, an hour later, taking him up on his offer to go out and celebrate.
“So you managed to impress your investor?” she asked, trying not to notice the people around her. She felt scruffy in her coat and jeans surrounded by sharply dressed guys, and the scantily dressed women.
“Your report helped.”
“You would have got it regardless.”
“I’m sure I would have.”
She looked at him. Cheeky, cocky, arrogant.
“But your report helped, Laronde. Maybe I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Nice place, this.” She said, not wanting to get sucked in by his compliments. She’d almost died when she’d seen the prices on the menu. Drinks here cost double the price of a dinner at the types of establishments she and Cara hung out at.
How the other side lived.
It was like sitting in a faraway exotic land, not in a rooftop restaurant. With three weeks to go before Christmas, New York was setting in for a cold spell. Before her, Manhattan twinkled like a thousand different colors with fairy lights.
“Recognize him?” Xavier nodded towards the tall figure of the guy, jeans, tight fitting black top. She stared at him for the longest time and it was only when he ran his hands through his hair, when he half turned so that she saw his side profile, that she remembered it was the bartender from the wedding.
He turned at the same time and looked at Xavier, and there was something complicit in their unspoken exchange, but she couldn’t be certain. She wasn’t sure if she was being paranoid.
He walked over to them. “Hey” he said, holding out his hand which Xavier shook firmly. The other guy touched his finger to his head, as if he was trying to remember something, then extended his hand to her.
“Izzy, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said, shaking his hand. “Hi, and yes. I remember you. It’s Luke, isn’t it?”“
“That’s right. Nice to see you again.”
“Xavier says you own this place.”
“I do.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“You never let on that you owned a bar in New York. I thought you were just a bartender.”
“You’re not the only one.”
