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I think for a moment before relenting. “One time.”
“Darren, you’re the best!”
Hanging up, I open the door to my Porsche and place the bag with the sweater inside. I should have Cheryl figure out a way to get it to Bridget by courier or next-day delivery. But it’s an excuse to see Bridget again.
But first I have a meeting with Eric Drumm for lunch so he can pitch me on his resort project. JD and I meet with him at a restaurant that serves Asian haute cuisine.
“This is crazy shit,” Eric says as he looks over the menu. “Can you charge these kinds of prices for what’s basically an egg roll and fried rice? I mean, what’s next? Hundred-dollar tacos?”
“You suggesting ethnic food can’t be fancy?” I ask instead of pointing out that he chose the restaurant to begin with.
“I’m saying food shouldn’t pretend to be something it’s not. I wouldn’t pay fifty dollars for a Big Mac, no matter how fancy you make it.”
“I would,” JD says. “Just out of curiosity.”
Eric chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right.”
He looks down at the silver chopsticks tied with a ribbon and set on the napkin. “This place has forks, doesn’t it? Never understood chopsticks. I get that it’s cultural, but why stick with it when there’s a superior utensil?”
“Because the fork isn’t superior,” I say.
Eric scrunches up his face in a what-the-hell-you-talking-about way.
“Can you pick up a single grain of rice with a fork?” I ask.
“Who would want to pick up a single grain of rice? It would take you fucking forever to finish a meal that way.”
I can understand Bridget’s desire to call this guy out. There’s something obnoxious about him, though it’s subtle, so I can’t put my finger on exactly why I don’t like him.
Through the course of lunch, JD and I listen to Eric brag about how spectacular his golf and spa resort in Northern California is going to be and the many successes he and his father have had developing resorts.
“But I don’t have to give you all the details,” Eric says as he jabs his fork into a potsticker. “The Drumm name is a known commodity. Nobody does resorts like us. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get in on the ground floor.”
I’m glad when lunch finally comes to a close.
“Hey, I’ve got to run to my next meeting,” Eric says, “but let’s talk again. And thanks again for the fundraiser last night.”
Shortly after he leaves, the server arrives to leave the tab.
I turn to JD. “The fucker invites us out to lunch and leaves us with the bill?”
Without looking at the tab, JD tosses his credit card onto the little silver platter it came with. “What, you can’t afford lunch all of a sudden?”
“I don’t give a shit about a few hundred dollars, but it’s not like Drumm is hurting for money. Guess I’m old fashioned. He wants to make it to third base with me on this resort proposal, he should at least put out for lunch.”
“You are old fashioned, bro. So you in on this golf and spa thing?”
“Tony already met with him and turned him down,” I remind him.
JD looks up at the ceiling at the mention of Tony’s name. “He’s supposedly all legit now. Didn’t have what it takes to stay.”
“Might be worth talking to him to hear his take.”
“You gonna call Benjamin Lee next?”
“He is a developer. We’re not. What do we know about resorts? Hell, I don’t even play golf.”
Hearing his phone ding, JD takes it out and checks the text that came in. He smiles. “Aww, how cute.”
