A Billionaire's Secret Baby - Chapter 4

After I left the coffee shop, I got a car to take me back to the penthouse. I had to get home, had to do something, anything to take my mind off Lola Ryder.

It was time to sweat.

I worked out for a while in my private gym, located at the top floor of my penthouse. Beginning with some gentle cardio, I warmed up with a 6 mile run, and then hit my own personal set of weights. I began with the barbell, exercising the big muscles—deadlifts, chest press, curls and squats—and then toned for a little bit on a smaller set of dumbbells.

By the time I was done with my workout, I was soaked and panting, but I’d lifted close to 20 tons in weight, and felt on top of the world. I showered and steamed for a while in my personal sauna.

But after I got dressed into my bathrobe and sat down in my living room with a protein shake, all I could think of was the beautiful, red-headed woman who’d walked into my restaurant earlier that day. Even now my heart and my groin hungered for Lola, and I couldn’t suppress the ripple of desire coursing through my body. I hadn’t been lying earlier when I spoke to the journalist. I’d been on dates, with successful, beautiful women.

But nothing had ever worked out. And even if I told myself that it was just my workaholic nature, my passion for my job, for making money and succeeding on the terms I’d set for myself as a young man, I knew there was more to my lonely life than that.

It was that no one had ever rocked my world like Lola. I’d never wanted anyone so much. And the years had only made her more beautiful, accentuating her best features.

Time heals all wounds, huh? My ass. There was no denying that the memory of Lola Ryder still clung to me, baggage that I couldn’t shake off.

I brooded for a while. Suddenly I was full of memories, not just of Lola, but of a time I preferred to forget. I felt like I was back there again, in the close, cramped streets of Fairhill. Dark nights, spent out in back alleys doing god-knows-what. I hadn’t told the whole truth to the journalist that morning. I’d run wild as a kid. Even here, in my luxury penthouse, I could never forget who I was. And how all this might go away someday. And then, those terrible memories would be all I had left.

My penthouse was at the very top of a high-rise, at the Southern end of Central Park. Through the wide, floor-to-ceiling window in my enormous living room, I looked down at the trees, watching cars go by, microscopically small below me.

I climbed the open staircase at the Eastern end of the room. My gym and a seldom-used guest bedroom were at one end of the corridor. At the other end, the master bedroom and my ensuite bathroom. Just on its own, the bathroom was bigger than the apartment where my mom and I had lived in Philadelphia.

How far I’d come. Not just since I left Philadelphia, but since I’d met Lola. When I met her, I was already making millions as a bartender and casual investor in the stock market. Now I was growing in power, consolidating my empire. And even though I kept thinking bigger, pushing the envelope, figuring out ways to expand, it rarely filled the hole. I’d come to learn that by now.

Only, I didn’t know what would.

I was thinking these melancholy thoughts when I got a call from Zeke.

“How’s it going?” I said. “What do you need?”

“Well, I got some good news and some bad news. Which you wanna hear first?”

“Come on, Zeke, you know me. Hit me with the bad news first, buddy.”

“You’re kidding. You’re the only guy I know who likes to hear the bad news first.”

“Well, I guess I am a realist.”

“Pessimist is more like it. Well, here’s the bad news. I’m down two waitresses at the Orchid.”

“Holy cow. How did that happen?”

“Well, one of the floor waitresses has broken her leg. Cherise has gone to see her at the hospital.”

“Oh heck. And the other?”

“She quit. Says she’s got a baby on the way.”

“Typical,” I said. “Well, can’t be helped, I suppose. She actually quit?”

“Yeah, Marla. You know, the wine pro? Her boyfriend’s Arnie Arlington. Runs that fancy cocktail bar on Lexington?”

“Right. I thought so. So, who do we know who can serve tables and knows a bit about wine?”

“Well, I’m coming to the good news. I saw a lady today who’d be absolutely perfect for this job. Only, she doesn’t seem too keen to come and work for me after that business on the stairs this afternoon.”

I groaned. “You mean Lola, don’t you.”

“That’s the one. Hey, ‘Lex?”

“Yeah?”

“I know this ain’t my business, but, uh…what’s up with you and her?”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Well, like I said, it ain’t my business. But, it seemed like she was scared of you or something. Like she knew you. Never had someone just run out of a job interview like that before. Like I said, she was real good with everything.”

I suppressed a growl. I didn’t want to lie. But then again, I couldn’t exactly tell him the truth, either.

“It’s no big deal. We had a run-in a few years back. Anyway, Lola doesn’t really like me.”

“What? Is she your ex-girlfriend or something?”

“No, no,” I said. “Nothing like that.”

“Worked somewhere before? Skipped out on you or something?”

“It’s not that,” I said. “I met her. On vacation. And she, uh…let’s just say, she has a firm dislike of me.”

“Well, is there any way you could get her to un-dislike you? We’re open for lunch tomorrow but I don’t think I can get someone down to trial in time. Plus, she’s good, man. Like I said. I think she’s got potential.”

“Zeke…” I sighed.

“Come on, tough guy. Don’t tell me the man who can benchpress 500lbs is scared of calling up a girl to ask about a job?”

“Okay. Fine. Have it your way.”

“You’re the champ. Speak later, I gotta close.”

“Have a good night, Zeke. I’ll see you next week.”

“You too, buddy. Hey, you wanna watch Monday Night Football or something this week? Feels like it’s been ages since I saw you anywhere but the Blue.”

“I wish I could. But it’s been a while since I took a look at any of my stocks and bonds. Think I’m gonna be pretty busy.”

“Figures.”

“Take care, buddy.”

“You too, man.”

I put the phone down, and braced myself for what was coming.

Zeke had texted me Lola’s phone number, along with a silly emoji. I called it, and felt my body tense.

Two rings. Three rings. Nothing.

Then, the receiver clicked.

“Hello?”“Lola? Is that you?”

“Alex?” I heard a rustling sound, as though she was running over to the other side of a room.

“How did you get this number?”

“Uh, Zeke gave it to me. He wanted me to speak to you.”

“About what, Alex? And why did you storm out this afternoon?”

“I didn’t storm…” I snarled. And then, I took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry about the way our meeting ended,” I said, suppressing my anger. “But the truth is, Zeke thinks you’d be great for the job at The Blue Orchid.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Zeke says—”

“I don’t care what Zeke thinks. What I care about is you, Alex. You’re the issue. Not Zeke.”

I frowned, and looked down. I was practically clenching my fist, trying to rein in my temper.

“Lola, it’s a great job.”

“And?”

“And the salary’s good.”

“You think the money is the issue?”

“No. But if it is, we can talk about that.”

“How would you feel, seeing me every day?”

I knew what Lola meant. We hadn’t discussed it openly, but neither of us could deny the force of attraction between us. I’d missed her. Had she missed me too?

And then, it hit me.

How Lola must have felt, when I didn’t respond to her all those years ago. When I paid her off to keep quiet, when I ignored her request for help. I felt crushed. I thought I’d been feeling guilty about sleeping with a young girl on vacation all those years. But what I was really guilty about was ignoring her. I took a deep breath.

“I know that what I did was wrong,” I said, in as even and measured a tone as I could muster. “But I want to make it right. I want to show you that there’s more to me than that. I know I ran off on you. But this job’s going to be the perfect chance to—”

“—If the next word that comes out of your mouth is ‘reconnect,’ I swear…”

I cleared my throat. For someone who hated me, Lola sure was good at reading my mind.

“Look. It’s nineteen-fifty an hour. Six shifts. And you pick your hours. Find me a deal that’s as good as that. We could use you, Lola. And besides, you won’t even see me.”

There was a pause. And I waited for her to hang up.

Only, she didn’t.

“Fine. But here’s the deal. I work one evening a week.”

“One?” I said, incredulously.

“I’m not kidding,” replied Lola.

Some of our waitresses worked three evenings—some two, even. But one?

“That’s not really—” I said, but then I heard Lola sigh on the other end of the line, and backed up again. “Okay, okay,” I said. “You do one close. Six shifts. And you work the bar. Zeke says you know about wine.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Thank you. There’s no way I can get you to do two evenings?”

“No. It’s really important.”

“May I ask why? Only, Zeke’s gonna want to—”

“I have a kid.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“So I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Lola. See you Tuesday.”

She put the phone down, and I was left with the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like someone had just walked on my grave.