Chapter 3

Straight Up
with a Twist

Lisa made the rounds. She flirted shamelessly with bland,
overly-confident men. Listened attentively to lame jokes and laughed at punchlines on cue. She feigned interest in tales of economic pursuits and exaggerated successes. Already, a margarita, two cosmopolitans, and a gin and tonic had watered the lawn of the party.

All in a night’s work, she thought. Lisa glanced at her phone, checking the time. She was due at the Karaoke tent in ten minutes. “Don’t Stop Believin’” was already stuck in her head. Maybe she’d just bite the bullet and sing the damn song.

Then Lisa saw her. Mother . . .

Her heart pounding, Lisa quickly excused herself from her third Jeff of the evening, and looked desperately for Jamie, knowing her friend would act as a willing shield. As she searched the crowd, she caught the eye of a man walking toward her from the food truck pod.

He was tall, fit, a bit on the older side, but still the most handsome man at the party. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair and a confident smile that reached his dark gray eyes. His outfit was obviously expensive, perfectly tailored, and slightly ridiculous for a man his age, yet he owned the look with a confidence that allowed him to pull it off, barely. She glanced quickly at his ring finger, and saw it was bare.

“A beautiful woman in distress. How can I be of service?” he asked.

“I could use a cocktail,” she said, knowing that if he gave her one, she’d drink it, Nigel be damned. She glanced at the man’s shoes. Sneakers. Good. Easy to replace.

Lisa let the man lead her toward the bar, his hand warm at the small of her back.

Just one drink, she thought, to calm my nerves. Then I’ll find Jamie and we’ll get out of here. Lisa’s eyes swept across the crowd again, but she saw no sign of her friend.

“I’m Lisa,” she said as they walked in step together. “And you are?”

“George. George Green.” He stopped and held out his hand, and she held out hers in return. Instead of shaking Lisa’s hand, he grasped it gently and kissed the inside of her wrist, his lips barely grazing the skin.

Despite the heat, she shivered and pulled away, a bit taken aback. Who does that, she thought. She should just walk away. Though, his name. Green. It couldn’t be. She reminded herself that she wasn’t at this party to socialize, to mix and mingle, or to network. But she couldn’t help herself and the words just spilled out. “George Green, of Burnam & Green?”

“Yes, you’ve heard of it?” he asked, looking quite pleased
with himself.

“I’ve worked a few of your parties,” she said, instantly regretting it. Key to the role of party hostess was to pretend you were actually an attendee. If this got back to Nigel, he might ask for his money back. But it seemed unlikely, and she was curious about George’s company. Everyone at art school wanted a job at B&G. It was the big fish in town, and she was already looking forward to bragging to her classmates about meeting the great George Green.

“So you are a working girl,” he said, with a smile.

Lisa went cold. Working girl? Seriously? Of course, the one man she actually found attractive at this party assumed she was a hooker. It was rare, but had happened before, and she and Jamie had a deal. Whoever was propositioned had to cover a round the next night at the corner bar. Damn it. In that case, she was definitely going to order a drink. A proper cocktail. And she’d enjoy it.

They’d reached the front of the bar line. “What’s your poison?” asked George.

“Vodka martini, very dry, straight up with a twist,” said Lisa directly to the bartender, who she recognized from one of her drawing classes.

“And I’ll have a bourbon, neat,” said George, dropping a twenty in the tip jar. He turned back to Lisa. “The lady likes her cocktails. That’s a pretty grown-up order.”

“I started early and had lots of practice,” she answered.

“I bet,” he said.

The bartender handed George and Lisa their drinks. They took a few steps from the bar and clinked glasses.

George looked at her thoughtfully. “I once read that the martini is the most pure of cocktails, with nowhere to hide if badly prepared. And just now, you had nowhere to hide and looked badly prepared. Who are you trying to avoid?” he asked.

Lisa just sipped the astringent drink, knowing the only person at the party more infamous than George Green was her mother Ellen, the mayor of Portland.