He shook his head. “Not enough lemon.”
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d had a customer ask me to remake a drink. He didn’t know what he was talking about. I reached across the bar and took the glass out of his hand. His jaw dropped.
“Lily! Jesus,” Brian said, trying to pull the drink out of my hand. I held on to the glass and watched the man’s nostrils flare as I took a sip of my own creation. It was good. Chilled and flavorful.
“You are impossible,” I hissed. “Sorry, but we don’t need your money this badly.”
He smirked and shook his head, reaching into his back pocket. He unfolded his leather wallet and pulled out two one-hundred-dollar-bills. “Wrong. We always want the customer’s money.” He tossed the bills across the bar and scooted his bar stool back. “You’re fired. Consider that your severance.”
My heart leapt to my throat.
Wait.
What?
“Dude, you’re oblivious,” Brian moaned. “Do you know who that was?”
I could barely hear Brian through the ether; I was too focused on the man slipping back through the crowd.
He was just another customer…right?
“That was Dean Harper.” He laughed, answering his own question. “It was nice knowin’ you.”
Chapter Five
Dean
Zoe : You didn’t fire the new girl did you? Tell me you aren’t that stupid.
I ignored Zoe’s text and laced up my beaten-up running shoes. My phone buzzed again and I reluctantly read the text.
Zoe : The bar brought in four times the amount it usually does last night. JUST FYI.
Zoe had been with my team for the last five years. We worked well together because she was a good manager and one hundred percent uninterested in me— or any other man for that matter . I brought her in as a temporary manager at the start of every restaurant. She helped me hire and train the new staff for the first few weeks, and she was damn good at her job. Her knack for annoying banter was not why I kept her around.
Zoe : Why’d you do it?
I would have ignored her question, but something told me she wouldn’t stop until I appeased her.
Dean : She’s not Provisions material.
My phone buzzed instantly.
Zoe : Yeah, you’re right. Making money is overrated.
I plugged my headphones in and pulled up my workout playlist. Zoe could text her fingers raw, but I had to start my run. My calves were tight from my last workout, but the tension would ease up by the time I reached the park. I locked up my apartment and slipped my spare key into the laces of my left shoe. Then, I took off.
I had to do some form of exercise every day, and I wasn’t particularly committed to one specific thing. Running, biking, rowing, anything that got my limbs moving made it easier to tame the fire burning inside me. I’d pound the pavement and feel the pieces of my life fall into place.
I’d thought I’d be happy after I made my first million, my tenth, my twentieth. I’d thought by the time I had a solid grip on New York’s restaurant scene, I’d be satisfied. I was wrong. The fire never died and I always wanted more.
Any freshman in college with a handful of psychology credits could connect the dots that I was using work to fill an emotional void in my life, but objectively speaking, they had to be wrong. I didn’t have voids. I’d had more than my fair share of women and I’d even truly loved one or two of them along the way. I yearned for nothing, lacked for nothing, and yet still, I pushed myself harder.
Why?
Because some people just like a challenge.
I was rounding a trail in Central Park when my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I checked it, prepared to ignore Zoe again, but Julian’s name popped up instead.
“Julian, what’s up?” I asked, using the opportunity to catch my breath. I was only halfway done with my run, but I stretched my hamstring with my free hand, careful not to overextend the muscle.
“Hey man, are you back in town?” he asked.
“Landed last night.”
“Let me guess, you went straight to work, barely slept, and now you’re what—working out?”
I smirked. Julian and I had been friends since college. He knew my habits better than anyone. “Touché, jackass. What do you want?”
He laughed and then I heard a female voice in the background. Likely, he was with his girlfriend, Josephine.
“I’m over at Central Park taking pictures for Jo’s blog. You should come by. I think we’re going to head to breakfast after we get all the shots she needs.”
I couldn’t do breakfast, but I was already in Central Park. It wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a few minutes. I’d finish the other half of my run afterward.
“Where are you?”
“Lower east side, right by 72nd.”
I glanced up at the street sign. I was at 66th and Broadway, so if I cut straight over, I’d be there in no time.
“All right, see you in a sec.”
Central Park was packed with families and tourists trying to make the most of their Saturday morning. In a few hours, the park would almost be too hot to inhabit, but with the sun hidden behind townhouses to the east, the temperature was still cool. I slowed to a walk when I neared 72nd Street and scanned the park for Julian and Josephine. I rounded Rumsey Playfield, and then kept walking along the trail. I was just about to hit 5th Avenue when I heard laughter.
“Lily. Shut up! I can’t take serious pictures if you’re making jokes the whole time.”