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Jackie’s ex had beaten the shit out of her one night about six months ago and she showed up on my doorstep. Thank God, she never left. She kicked in money for bills and helped wrangle the boys. If she wasn’t here, I don’t know what I would have done.
“You need to spend some of this on yourself,” I said as I took the dollar bills and smoothed them out on the table with the back of my hand.
“There is nothing I need,” she said with a tired smile. “Other than a good night’s sleep and a good long fuck.”
“You’re terrible,” I said, frowning and smiling at the same time.
“And you need to get your cherry popped,” she shot back. “Come to the club tonight. I’ll get you laid and paid before happy hour is through.”
“Uh, thanks, but I’m going to pass.”
“Okay, but don’t say I never offered to help.”
“If I ever need help getting my cherry popped, Jackie Dean, you’ll be the first person I call.”
“Well that’s depressing,” she said with a tired smile. She picked up the cigarette and took a long drag off it, then waved the smoke away. She nodded at the stack of mail on the table.
“Anything from Publisher’s Clearing House in there? Please tell me we’re millionaires so I don’t have to serve drinks to douchebags anymore.”
“Afraid not this month,” I sighed.
“Too bad.” She took a slurp of coffee and licked her lips. “How are things at the restaurant?”
The restaurant Jackie was referring to was Robert’s Steak House. It was a local, family restaurant in downtown Mountain View owned by Carl and Doris Roberts. They had been my mom and dad’s best friends when they were alive. They took me and the boys under their wing and helped us when they could, but they weren’t rich, and every dime they had was tied up in the restaurant.
When I had to drop out of culinary school in Denver to come home after mom died, they gave me a job as a chef-in-training at the restaurant. It was just a fancy title for kitchen helper. It was hard work and long hours and shit pay, but I was working in an industry I loved and hopefully someday I would have a restaurant of my own. That was my dream anyway. I was pretty sure that would never happen, but I had to have some bright light at the end of the tunnel that hopefully wasn’t a train for once.
“The restaurant is good,” I said with a nod. “Business seems to be down, but Carl and Doris don’t seem too concerned.”
Jackie picked up her coffee cup and eyed me from over the top. “Have they said anything about selling out?”
I blinked at her. “No, why do you ask?”
Her round shoulders went up and down. “The rumor floating around the club is that some big company is trying to buy that entire city block where the restaurant sits so they can tear it down and build a hotel or something. The City Council is going to vote on it next month. Something about imminent domain, where the fucking city can just take the property and sell it to someone else if they think it will increase the tax base.”
“Such big words,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, well, Ted likes to talk while I’m blowing him in the back of his car,” Jackie said wryly.
I smiled at her. Ted Reed was the married City Council President who frequented the club and screwed Jackie whenever his wife was out of town. Jackie didn’t know the difference between imminent domain and a Dunkin Donuts, but I did. I’d paid attention in high school government class while Jackie was off having sex with the captain of the football team.
“Did Ted say the name of the company that wants the property?” I asked.
She stubbed out the cigarette and shook her head. “Nope. Oh, shit, I almost forgot.” Her purse was on the table and she pulled it into her lap and rummaged a hand around the inside. She handed me a bent business card.
The card read: Charlie Prescott, Executive Vice President, Jenner Investment Group, Denver, Colorado.
I held up the card. “Who’s this and why should I care?”
“This guy came into the club last night with Tyler Jenner.” She paused for my reaction. I didn’t have a clue who she was talking about, so she held up her hands and swirled them in the air. “Tyler Jenner? Billionaire mountain man? Lots of muscles, long beard, shit loads of money? Just built that huge fucking log cabin on the side of the mountain west of town?”
“Okay, so?”
“Jesus girl, you’ve got to get out from under your rock,” she said, huffing at me. “Charlie Prescott is Tyler Jenner’s right hand man. They were both in the club last night and I heard them talking about staffing up the house he just built.”
I bit into my lip to keep from smiling at her. I swirled my hands in the air to match hers. “So, you were eavesdropping on them as you served them drinks?”
She made a funny face. “Do you wanna hear this or not?”
