Page 21 of Last First Date

He groaned. "A Yankee."

"To be fair, I did grow up here," I told him.

He looked at me, scrutinizing my face. "You look vaguely familiar."

"What about you?" I asked, hoping to steer him away from who I was. "Are you from around here?"

"Kind of. Moved here about ten years ago. I grew up in Phoenix."

The bar was fairly slow. He had time to chat, and he seemed happy to do so. I listened, happy to have a distraction from my own thoughts. He told me about his life, how he'd grown up in a small-town community, dropped out of high school, drifted from job to job, and finally landed here.

"Best decision I ever made," he said, giving the bar an affectionate pat. "No place like it."

"What about you?" he asked. "You seriously look so familiar. Maybe you just have one of those faces."

"I've been told that before." I smiled.

"Are you visiting?"

"Unfortunately, no," I said. "I've moved here."

"Unfortunately?" he asked with a laugh. "Shit, there are a lot worse places."

"I'm not sure about that," I said. "I suppose this place is great for raising a family, but that's not in the cards for me. I like a vibrant nightlife."

He stretched his arms out. "Man, you've come to the right place!"

I laughed. "Absolutely."

"So, why'd you move back?"

Maybe it was the whiskey that loosened my tongue or maybe it was the fact I was in desperate need for a friend and conversation. "I've been running the most profitable division of my grandfather's company in Manhattan for the last five years. I had a great life there. But I was out here to run the company from here. My grandfather doesn't think I can successfully run the company from Manhattan, which means I'm stuck here."

"What's the company?" he asked with curiosity.

"Elite Occasions."

He frowned. "Wait, you're a Williams?"

And just like that my anonymity was over. "I am. Knox Williams."

"Shit, wasn't there like a parade or some shit because your dad retired?"

"He's my grandfather," I said. "And yes, he retired. I'm the lucky guy that gets to try and fill his shoes."

He laughed. "Your grandfather left you what I imagine is a very successful company. My father left me this shithole."

"The company isn't mine," I corrected. "I'm just the CEO."

"Sorry, man. Must be hard to be the heir of a billionaire who entrusts you with his company and legacy. It could be worse."

I frowned and feigned surprise. "Do I detect a note of sarcasm?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little. But you've got to admit, Knox, life could be worse."

I took another sip of my whiskey and looked around the bar. His bar. Sure, it was a dive, but he had something I didn't—control over his own destiny. He wasn't trapped by familial obligations or the weight of an empire. He could sell the bar tomorrow if he really wanted to.

"You're right," I conceded. "It could be worse."