Unexpected, p.4
Unexpected, page 4
Colin bristled but let it slide, not wishing to start an argument with the man who was obviously Scanlon’s guard dog. He tried again. “All I want is my property.”
The server shrugged. “Well, whatever, but Walker still ain’t here. I can give him the message and—”
He wasn’t about to fall for that or let himself be put off. “When do you expect him? I read the articles. I know he comes here every night.” He walked over to a vacant table in the center of the room and sat facing the door. “I’ll wait.”
With a frown, the man plucked a menu from the small table by the entrance. “Suit yourself, but I can’t say when he’ll show up. And if you sit, you gotta order something.”
Colin scanned the offerings. “I’ll have a ginger ale and a matzo-ball soup.” Quite the combination.
“It’ll be out in a few.”
Colin didn’t miss the frosty tone, but he didn’t give a damn. If he had to sit there all night long, he was going to wait for Walker Scanlon to show up.
Chapter Four
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Scanlon. Please have a seat. Would you like water, a cappuccino, or something else to drink?”
Walker sank into the comfortable chair opposite the two men. He’d come directly to this meeting from the one with his financial advisers. Walker liked to have one day per month where he handled all his business so as not to take time away from the bar and other obligations. He’d learned the hard way to never give short shrift to any of his enterprises, and he’d taken several business courses over the years to enable him to understand what the money men were telling him. No one would ever say that Walker Scanlon wasn’t smart with his money.
“No, I’m good, thanks. I think I had around four cups today. And please, God, don’t call me Mr. Scanlon. Walker is fine.”
Mr. Scanlon was his father, and nothing good would come out of any connection there.
“Four? That would about get me through the morning.” Dustin smiled as he faced him, laugh lines creasing the corners of his twinkling eyes. “I’ve already gone through six double espressos by midafternoon.”
“You’ll find that Dustin’s blood is coffee-colored,” Alan said dryly, but he gave his husband a loving pat on the cheek. “I’ve tried to wean him off, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“Don’t remind me.” Dustin shuddered. “It wasn’t funny. Even my twitches had twitches.”
Their relaxed, casual style was a welcome relief from the stiff suits at the bank. Why people thought they needed to be buttoned up to prove they could give quality service was beyond him. The only things Walker liked stiff were drinks and dicks.
This meeting was a formality because he’d vetted them before he made the final decision. Most people would simply sign the contracts and hand the rest off to their staff to run with it, but that wasn’t Walker’s way. This event was special to him, and it made sense to meet the people planning it, especially since they’d be working closely together. Walker refused to be a figurehead and merely lend his name out. That loss of control only brought trouble, something he’d unfortunately had to learn on his own.
Pinnacle came highly recommended through several trusted sources, and Walker knew personally they were an integral part of planning many major-league teams’ charity events on and off-season. That alone was what had sealed it for him. He’d been to numerous SiriusXM and ESPN events they’d managed, so he knew they weren’t your average event planners.
“I want to make sure the benefit happens during baseball season but not too far in so as to affect the playoffs. If we make it too far into the season, the players won’t be able to come because they can’t have late nights out. They have to maintain peak physical condition, and that means strictly regimented schedules—early to bed being the first requirement on the list.”
“We pride ourselves on being able to help our clients no matter what. We’re thrilled you’ve chosen Pinnacle Events to plan your function. Let’s Go Mets—we’re huge fans.” Dustin flashed him a grin as he took notes on his iPad. “Tell us what you’re looking to do, and we’ll tell you how we can help you.”
“Well, each month I put away money and donate it to the local kids’ clubs. But I want to do something more elaborate to bring in even more money, and I hope to make it a yearly event. I want to have a big party at my bar in Brooklyn—probably not an auction. I’d like to have a setup in which to sell sports memorabilia and other items. After commissions are paid, all the money would be donated to the project.”
“What a wonderful idea. We need more people doing this. And don’t worry. That’ll be easy, no problem at all. You would want us to provide the catering, music, and decorations, as well as getting the invite list set up and doing the promotion, I assume? We have wonderful vendors. You give us the vision for the event—should it be sports themed?”
“How’d you guess?” He already sensed this would go off without a hitch. Dustin and Alan were his kind of people—fast-thinking, quick to smile, and, most of all, easygoing. He’d hate to have to deal with uptight assholes. “Yeah, definitely. I’d need you to handle it all. Between the baseball publicity my agent has me contracted for and working at the bar, my schedule is full, and I wouldn’t be able to manage this as well.”
“Not to worry. That’s why we’re here,” Alan said with a nod toward his husband. “Dustin and I take care of all the front-end work, and our partner, Colin, is a whiz at making sure everything goes smoothly the night of the event. He’s a true perfectionist—the man has spreadsheets on his brain.”
Walker shuddered. “God save me. I almost gave my accountant a heart attack the first year when he had to do my taxes. Small-group dinners I can deal with on my own. But for something like this, that requires advance planning, I know I need professionals.”
“We’ll take very good care of you. Pinnacle is known for its personalized service, and we’ll make sure this event will be one you’ll never forget. Between the three of us, we’ll have you covered, top to bottom.”
Walker chuckled. “I have no doubt. I’ve heard only the best about you and your company. So I should be receiving a call from your partner soon? This project is close to my heart, so I’ll be the point person.”
“Perfect, perfect. Yes. You’ll hear from us to set up a meeting. I’ll make sure of it.” Dustin’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “No reason to concern yourself with anything but enjoying your event. We promise complete satisfaction.”
Alan handed him a clipboard. “We’ll just need you to fill out a form with your contact information, the date of the event, plus the size of the space and other details. All that will get us started on finding the exact vendors you’ll need.”
“Not a problem.” Walker quickly filled in the form and placed it on the desk. “Thanks for this. I hope you have enough time and that the short notice won’t cause you any issues.”
“None at all. If you wanted it next week, that would be too tight, but six weeks for this type of event is fine.” Alan picked up his paperwork. “We’re really looking forward to working with you.”
* * *
Once he was settled in the back of the car, Walker pulled out his phone. At his monthly financial meeting, he’d put his cell on silent to concentrate on his adviser’s advice, and he’d left it off when he was at Pinnacle as well. He had a good feeling about working with Alan and Dustin, and he hoped their partner would be as easy to get along with.
Several calls from Jimmy caught his immediate attention. “What’s wrong?”
“This one’s a doozy. I ain’t never heard this one before, but I gotta hand it to the guy.”
“What’re you talking about?” He loved Jimmy, but the man was a storyteller, and sometimes it took a while to get to the point.
“Some guy comes in here looking for you, saying you picked up his suitcase from your trip last week and he’s got yours. Ya ever hear anything so crazy?”
Walker chuckled. “That’s funny. If he’s some super fan, take his name and I’ll send him some stuff. You’re right. It’s a good story.”
“Yeah, ’cept for one thing. I’m thinking it could be the truth. He told me that your suitcase is the same as his with the rainbow ribbon. He got your email address from the luggage tag and sent you messages all week, but you never responded.”
“Hmm. I’ve been busy with my monthly reports and meetings, and I’ve let my emails slide for the week. Lemme check.”
He scrolled through the never-ending stream of messages. The subject line marked URGENT from a man named C. Brightman caught his eye, so he clicked on it and read the email. A quick scan of the week showed ten more emails from the same person.
“Yeah, I got them. He’s not lying. Shit. That makes me feel like an idiot.”
“Eh. Don’t worry about it. He’s sitting here eating soup and having a soda.”
“Make sure to comp him and keep him until I get there. Give him a drink or something on the house.”
Jimmy cackled. “Oh, don’t worry. He already told me he ain’t goin’ nowhere until he speaks to you.”
Walker peered out the window. “I’m just crossing the bridge now. I should be there in less than twenty.”
“See ya then.”
Due to an accident on the span, it ended up close to forty minutes before he walked inside Bases Loaded. He immediately spotted the man he was supposed to meet, as he was sitting alone, his gaze trained on the door. Walker recognized him from the resort, and now, as he had for that whole weekend, thought he was good-looking but very, very tense. It all clicked at that moment. This was the guy he bumped into at the airport. The one who wore a suit home. Made sense.
Striding over to the man, he put on his biggest smile. “Hello. Mr. Brightman? I hear you’ve been waiting for me. I’m Walker Scanlon.” He stuck out his hand, which the man snubbed, instead scowling at Walker.
“For close to two hours, yes. Is there any reason you’ve been ignoring my emails?” His dark brows drew together, and his full mouth tightened with anger.
Damn. Mr. Happy this guy wasn’t. Walker took the chair opposite him.
“I’m sorry. I was busy with—”
“Spare me. We’re all busy.” He waved a hand, and Walker’s annoyance grew, but he held his temper in check. “I know you’re a superstar sports figure, but us regular people have lives as well, and our time is just as important.”
Choosing to ignore the snipe, Walker propped his chin in his hand. “You were at the resort, weren’t you? I saw you there.”
“I saw you as well. You were rarely off the dance floor.”
Walker grinned. “I have my moments.” When the man didn’t loosen up, Walker sighed. Clearly, Brightman wasn’t about to let him off the hook with a wink and a smile.
“Okay. I’m very sorry I took your bag. I was rushing and didn’t check the luggage tag. To be honest, I haven’t even opened it.”
“Your watchdog said as much.”
“Jimmy? Yeah. He’s been with me from the beginning, and he’s a little protective. You know how it is.”
Brightman didn’t move a muscle and merely stared at him across the table.
Jeez, this guy was like a statue. Nothing cracked that stone face. For some reason, that made Walker want to poke the bear.
“So what can I do for you?” He lazed back in his chair. “Wanna beer?”
“What?” he sputtered. “No, I don’t want a beer. I want my property.” His whiskey-colored eyes shot sparks.
Ahh. So there was a little fire underneath all that ice, and Walker liked that. Very much.
“I’m happy to exchange it for you, but it’s at my apartment.”
“Obviously.” Brightman huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly expect you to carry it around with you. When can we arrange a switch?”
This was starting to be fun. A shame he didn’t get to talk to him at the resort. Maybe they could’ve hooked up. He’d seen him during the limbo contest and had planned to talk to him, but Brightman had left by the time he’d stopped dancing. Even though the man wasn’t his usual type, Walker was always up for a good time. And slightly tense and grumpy looked good right about now.
Extremely good.
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we have dinner, say tomorrow night, and we can bring our suitcases and switch them.”
“Are you serious? Dinner? I didn’t come here for a date. Just tell me where you live and I’ll bring my suitcase and we can make the switch.”
Other than his closest friends, Walker never had anyone to his apartment, and he didn’t give out his address to anyone.
“Sorry, that won’t work. I can come to you if you’d like.”
“Oh, right. Guess you’re just too famous. Listen, we can do it on Broadway for all I care. I just want my things.” Brightman’s lip curled in a sneer. “And from what you had inside the suitcase, I’d think you’d be even more anxious than me to get your stuff back.”
Walker flashed him his brightest smile. “I have more where that came from. No worries.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Look, I’m in the middle of a bunch of things, and my time is limited, but I’ll be spending most of it at the bar. If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, could you bring the suitcase here? I’ll pay for your car service. And I’ll bring yours as well.”
“Fine. Like I said, I don’t care where we do it.”
“Say tomorrow afternoon?”
“I can’t. I’m working—all weekend, in fact. I can do it Monday night.”
Walker wondered what it was that Brightman did that he needed to work all weekend, and made a mental note to look him up online. “Monday is fine. I appreciate your understanding.”
Brightman gave him a quick nod and slipped on his suit jacket. “I’ll be here Monday around nine p.m.”
“So will I.” When Brightman pulled out his wallet, Walker put a hand on his.
“It’s on the house. For all your troubles. I really am sorry.”
Brightman glanced down at Walker’s hand on his. “Thanks.” And walked away and out the door.
It might’ve been a little rude, but Walker appreciated his straightforwardness. He picked up the glass and empty soup bowl and headed into the kitchen, where Jimmy was chopping up vegetables.
“I’m here. How’s it going?” He waved to the line cooks, who gave him thumbs-ups. All his employees at Bases Loaded were people he’d met during his career, either from the team or the concession stand at Shea Stadium, then Citi Field. This was his family.
Jimmy set his knife on the chopping board. “You meet your visitor yet?”
“Yeah. We talked.” He swiped a carrot and crunched it. “I can’t blame the guy. I’d be annoyed too if someone had my bag and I’d tried to contact them with no response. He thought I was deliberately ignoring him.”
“Okay, I get that. Prickly SOB, though, I gotta say.”
“That he is. Anyway, he’s coming here on Monday night, and we’re gonna switch suitcases. So that’ll be that. And I finalized plans for the benefit. It’s gonna be in six weeks, so there’s not much time. I hired an event-planning company to take care of it.”
“That’s good. I know the kids are gonna love having real uniforms and a space to play with new gloves and equipment that isn’t fallin’ apart.” Jimmy picked up the knife and gave him a fond smile as he started chopping. “You done good, kid.”
“I had a good teacher.” He dropped a kiss on Jimmy’s silvery head.
“Go on and get outta here. Do some work and stop slacking off already. Just ’cause you’re the boss don’t mean you get to sit on your ass.”
Crunching on his carrot, he left the kitchen. His phone buzzed with a text, and he was surprised to see it was from Dustin.
It was wonderful meeting with you, and thank you for choosing Pinnacle to be part of such a worthwhile event. Our partner will contact you Monday with more details. We can’t wait to work with you.
Even knowing that it was merely normal business-speak, Walker liked the personal touch. At that moment, however, it wasn’t so much the event he was thinking of, but the uptight, slightly snooty man he was seeing again Monday night.
Chapter Five
It had been a long, long weekend, and Colin had never looked forward more to being alone in his apartment than he did that Sunday night. He’d handled two weddings, and while Saturday night was a breeze with the bride and groom’s families lovely and easygoing, the same couldn’t be said for the Sunday evening affair. The groom, constantly dissatisfied, had caused a world of embarrassment for his new wife by declaring everything “not up to his standard.”
Nothing ground Colin’s gears more than some pompous twit’s blustering, and this groom was out of control. The wine’s vintage wasn’t the “best year,” the flowers not at their peak of bloom, the Wagyu beef not seared properly. On and on.
Colin was a step away from picking up a vase and braining the guy, but he smiled and took it all in stride, accepting apologies from the bride, who took him aside and whispered, “He doesn’t really mean it, Colin. He’s just trying to impress his family. We didn’t even think they’d come. See, Jase is from the projects, and he had nothing growing up. I guess he’s trying to show off for them, so they’d be proud of how far he’s come.”
He accepted the explanation gracefully, but inside he understood much better than she or anyone would know. Colin remembered his own childhood as vividly as if he were still the young boy hiding under the covers, listening to gunshots echo in the darkness across the cement courtyard. He’d tried to block out the screams in the middle of the night signaling something terrible happening in the hallways or another apartment. The horns and sirens. His mother would attempt to comfort him by saying it was just like a bad dream and would soon be over, but Colin knew better. When you spent your childhood stepping around crack vials and needles, avoiding the drug dealing going on between the groups of men hanging out in corners, you knew the nightmare was the life you lived.
