Whisky Sour [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 05-15-2017
Julianna didn’t see Owen that night. Or the night after.
In fact, several nights came and went without him making an appearance in the bar. Julianna read his absence as a hint. That he didn’t want to see her. Which was fine, she tried to tell herself, totally fine. They’d never defined if their night together meant there was going to be something better between them. Besides, what would the C.E.O of a multi-billion dollar company want to do with the owner of a whisky bar (even if that whisky bar was particularly upscale). Rather, what could he want, that he hadn’t already gotten?
She tried not to let it get to her. A single one night stand wasn’t the end of the world. She felt like a schoolgirl with a silly crush, because obviously she had imagined that there had been something deeper between them. He liked whisky, he liked trivia, she supplied both. He liked tying women up and fucking them against sliding glass doors. Apparently, she provided that too. She’d made the mistake of thinking she had found what she needed in him; she’d made the mistake of thinking she was somehow special.
Julianna had sent a text to Renton the day she had met him, like she’d promised. They chatted intermittently, getting to know each other in a friendly way or complaining about different aspects of the city or work, but they never mentioned Owen. Not that she expected his executive assistant to let her down for him.
She’d even hit it off with Raleigh. They’d had a nice and fun chat as he’d taken her home. Not that that mattered. Neither Raleigh nor Renton were Owen and their opinions probably had very little weight at the end of the day.
On the fourth day she tried to call Owen with the number he’d given her on his business card. It went to voicemail, she left one. He didn’t return her call. Julianna told herself that he was busy. Sai easily noticed her change in demeanor following the night she took Owen home, but he didn’t comment on it. Maybe, she’d give him a raise or something for not adding on to her obvious misery.
Another shift came and went on the sixth day and there was still no sign of Owen. Julianna felt miserable, which in turn made her feel pathetic. Her pity party certainly didn’t end when she flopped down on the bed in her apartment above the bar. It worsened when she rolled over and plucked a blue silk tie off of her nightstand. She ran the soft fabric through her hands, and traced the patterns with her fingers.
It was Owen’s tie, the one he’d been wearing that night, and the one he had subsequently tied her up in. She’d pilfered it from his apartment after she’d found in on the floor while she was getting dressed. She groaned and let the fabric fall over her eyes.
It had been a week and two days since she’d seen Owen and finally decided she was going to do something about it. She’d woken up that day in the angry stages of the whole ordeal and decided that a day off would be well spent getting some fucking answers from an elusive C.E.O.
Tac Industries had an office building in the downtown area. It was probably the worst idea she had ever had, to drive downtown and request (demand) to speak with the C.E.O. Fortunately, or unfortunately, that is exactly what Julianna had done.
Now, she stood at a busy reception desk in the lobby, looking particularly out of place in black skinny jeans and a long-sleeved Georgetown shirt in signature Georgetown blue. Her high ponytail and blue converse didn’t help to pull her outfit together as an ironic attempt at professionalism, but she stood straight and pretended to act as if she belonged, while a harried secretary tried to figure out what to do with her.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 05-16-2017
She wore a headset over one of those sleek corporate ponytails. Her mascaraed eyes swept over the oddly casual woman standing before the main front desk as if some wild animal from the zoo had entered her building. The woman was asking to see Owen Hart. The Owen Hart? The CEO?She was trippin’ if she thought she was gonna just waltz in here and see the CEO. “Give me just one second here.” She picked up a phone call while she tapped at the keyboard and stared at her monitor. “Thank you for calling Tac Industries, my name is Bridgette, may I place you on a brief hold? Thank you so much. Hold on.”
She picked up a couple more calls while she made it look as if she was checking Mr. Hart’s schedule. She was actually checking Renton Bell’s schedule. Maybe she could pawn this woman off on Mr. Hart’s snappy executive assistant.
Yep. That’s what she would do.
She tried to look sympathetic, “Mr. Hart has a full schedule today.” He always did and there were never scrubby women in jeans and t-shirts on his schedule. “I’m going to call his executive assistant, Mr. Bell. Maybe he can do something for you today?”
She dialed Renton’s extension and when he picked up she said, “I have a Julianna here for Mr. Hart? Can you come -”
A pang of guilt surged through him. “I’ll be right there,” Renton interrupted and abruptly hung up the line.
“Thank youuu,” she cooed as if Renton was still on the line. “Mr. Bell will be here in just a minute. You can wait over there.” She pointed to a lounge area where other corporate types were waiting on meetings and the like. Bridgette was excusing Julianna from the front of her desk.
Renton paced around in his office for a few moments. Owen was in a meeting. Should he interrupt and tell him? Should he just bring Julianna back? Should he try to chase her away?
All week all he’d gotten out of Owen about Julianna were words like ‘go file something, Renton’ and ‘don’t you have something better to think about than my love life?’ and ‘book me for Dubai in three weeks.’ He knew his boss had closed the book on bargirl but he didn’t know why and he didn’t know how to talk to Julianna about it. Especially not when his friendship with her had only been innocuous texts so far.
Welp, he had to deal with it.
Renton smoothed his hand over the black tie he wore with delicate horizontal stripes in pink. He had this patterned tie paired boldly with a light blue vertical striped button up. It was all tied together, of course, by his sleekly tailored suit jacket and slacks. If his clothes could endow him with the competence necessary to handle the current social snafu he’d been put in, then he was certainly wearing the outfit for it.
He appeared through the glass double doors that led to the rest of the executive office suites. “Julianna.” He called and held the door open for her, signaling for her to come with him. He was smiling warmly at Julianna and completely ignoring the shocked looking receptionist.
Once he’d shut the door on the lobby they were left in that kind of creepy silence that settles in office buildings. The too-over air conditioned space in which people didn’t feel the need to raise their voices above a whisper in the halls. Louder voices could be heard taking calls, or engaging in meetings behind closed doors that lined the halls. But in the hall, it was quiet.
Renton’s voice was soft when he spoke, he reached out and squeezed her wrist affectionately, “It’s good to see you. What a surprise.” He cooed, avoiding the obvious topic of why she was there. He led her into an empty conference room and closed the door behind her. “So,” he asked, as he assumed a position of leaning against the conference room table with his hands in his pockets, “is he expecting you?” He knew the answer but he needed to hear it from her. He was expecting a sort of explanation that would clue him in on how to handle the situation.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 05-16-2017
Julianna nodded, stone-faced and understanding of the things the receptionist was saying to her. She considered herself lucky that...her name tag said Bridgette, bothered to assist her at all. She knew her request was ridiculous, she knew she was wildly out of place and out of line to show up at his place of business and demand to see him. Julianna turned away from the desk, rubbing her hands across her jeans before taking a seat in one of the empty chairs in the waiting area. She was quickly losing her nerve. She resisted the urge to sink down in her seat as if it would make her invisible. Men and women in business casual were glancing at her over newspapers and styrofoam cups of complimentary coffee. Julianna pulled her purse into her lap and found a word game on her phone to distract herself. Shortly, that stopped working, and she was just about to bail when she heard a familiar voice called her.
Pushing herself from the chair she modulated her pace as to not seem like she was running away from the eyes and ears of the reception center and towards the safety offered by the assistant’s escort. Julianna forced a smile as he categorized her random appearance as a ‘nice surprise,’ because she knew that it was a ‘huge inconvenience’ when categorized more accurately.
Julianna sat at an empty chair near Renton and shook her head. She made a noise the was somewhere between a hum and a throaty chuckle, which summarized that whole of her nervousness and she rubbed at the edge of her brow with her index finger. “No, he isn’t,” she admitted.
“I...actually haven’t heard from him since I was at the penthouse. Which I am, of course, realizing more and more that I should have taken as a giant hint, but this morning I woke up all irate and figured if a guy was drop me he could at least give me the decency of an explanation. I tried calling him, but he never got back to me-” Julianna stopped abruptly, and leaned back in the chair, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my goood,” she groaned. “I’m a pathetic idiot.”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 05-19-2017
Renton’s brows knit together sympathetically when she admitted to him that she was being very much ghosted by Owen. There was more than an obvious amount of shame, hurt, and a little bitterness in her voice as she conveyed her feelings. Renton dropped down to kneel in front of her, “No. No you’re not.”
There was a comforting gentleness in his tone as he reached up to pull her hands away from her face. “You are not pathetic.” He said firmly. His grip on her hands matched his voice intending to convey a little strength and confidence to her.
He squeezed her hands reassuringly, “I wouldn’t expect you to feel any other way right now. You deserve some honesty. That’s the least a person can give someone.” Renton was stroking his thumbs gently across the backs of her hands.
“Owen is in a meeting right now.” He explained carefully, as he rose again to a standing position. “Would you like to wait for him to come out? I can’t force him to hear you out, but we can force him to at least look at your pretty face. Wouldn’t that be -”
His speech was interrupted by loud, rapid knocking on the window to the conference room that faced the hall. Renton jumped in surprise and turned to see Owen gesturing at him and the watch on his wrist agitatedly.
Apparently, at first glance Owen hadn’t seen who Renton was speaking to and kept walking. Then he froze, took two steps back, did a double take and gave the two of them a confused expression. His hand was out in a posture that asked ‘what the fuck?’
He opened the door aggressively and addressed Renton first completely neglecting to acknowledge Julianna. “China was expecting that report twenty minutes ago, Renton.”
“I was-” Renton tried to explain.
“Get it done. Now.” Each word was carefully a pronounced and staccato threat. It was enough to send Renton scurrying away after giving Julianna an apologetic look. Owen then turned a cool gaze to her. He looked her over with an almost careful indifference. “Let's go.” He said after subjecting her to a silent, intimidating stare down for several moments.
He turned on his heel and walked off expecting her to follow. Owen led the way silently with long and quick strides all the way to an expansive, corner office with an expensive view. He stood by the open door waiting for her to enter before he wordlessly closed it behind her.
“Sit.” Was his invitation to the leather chairs that sat across from his desk. While she situated herself he moved off to an ornate beverage cart that had been rolled next to a wall near a couch and some lounge chairs. Obviously an area of his office where he’d personally host important clients.
“So,” Ice clinked into two glasses which were then filled with whiskey. “What can I do for you Julianna?” He asked as he returned to her. He handed her one of the drinks unconcerned whether she wanted it.
He rounded his desk and made a show of sinking into his chair. A practiced motion released the buttons of his jacket as he sat. He leaned back and sipped at his drink waiting to hear whatever speech she’d come to give him.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 05-19-2017
Julianna stared down at Renton, mostly pathetically, as he tried to make her feel better about the situation. She was visibly pouting, her hands limp in his where he held them just above her knees. The knock on the window startled them both, and she looked up to see Owen on the other side of the glass. He hadn’t noticed her until a split second later, and he did not look happy to see her. If she’d had any real doubts that he was displeased by her appearance in his office, they dissolved when he shooed Renton away and looked down at her with an almost annoyed air of disinterest. He had never looked at her that way. It twisted her gut and set her heart to a fluttering rhythm, but she stared back up at him, almost defiantly. She wondered if he had expected her to look away.
She stood immediately, and almost obediently at his insistence and followed him down the hall towards a spacious office. There was something ominous about the click of the door when he closed it behind her, and she stood where she was, observing the windows at the opposite end of the room until he told her to sit. Another command that she followed in the same immediate and obedient manner. Julianna perched on the edge of the chair and crossed her feet at the ankles and tucked them beneath the furniture.
Julianna didn’t want the whisky, but she took it anyway. She didn’t go through any of the playful motions that she would have when handed a glass of nondescript amber liquid, she only sipped at it once as to not appear rude. Her eyes tracked him as he sat behind the desk.
“Nice view,” she said pointedly, turning her head to gaze at the large windows. Her ponytail bobbed with each motion of her head. She took another sip before looking back at him. Owen looked as if he expected her to lay into him, go off on some sort of practiced monologue that he was already bored of. “I just had some questions, I guess?” She looked down at the glass in her hand and ran her thumb over the rim.
“Why weren’t you honest with me instead of ghosting me?” Her inquiry came suddenly after a few quiet moments; as if she had been silently hyping herself up for the confrontation. One seemed to open the floodgates for the rest of them.
“Why did you give me your number if you didn’t want to see me again? Why did you leave me in your apartment without even a goodbye? I thought there was something between us,” she paused and let that one hang in the air between them. The something she spoke of wasn’t just their flirting and their banter, it was also a subtle sort of nod to what they’d done in the bedroom.
“But you just blew me off.”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 05-26-2017
Owen didn’t respond to or acknowledge her compliment of the view from his office. They were far beyond such banal pleasantries. Instead he watched the movement of her hair that was pulled away from her face and bounced when she looked this way or that. He studied her extensively. The way she sat on the edge of the chair at attention. Her nervous fiddling with the glass he’d given her. And then the way accusations in the form of questions came tumbling out of her. On the other hand, he remained completely still and emotionless. He was leaned back in his oversized leather chair with both arms resting along the arms of the chair; one held his glass of whiskey and periodically served it to his mouth in a steady motion.
His eyes didn’t leave her until a vibrating sound from his phone disrupted the silence. He didn’t bother hiding the annoyed expression at having his interrogating look be disrupted. Owen peaked at what was making his phone cause the noise and then deposited the device face down on the top of his shining, polished desk.
“I am a very busy man, Julianna.” Was the explanation he offered her. “I do not have the time or energy to engage in prolonged ... entanglements. Romantic or otherwise.” The emphasis of the word was for the purpose of conveying his supposed disinterest or disapproval of relationships of any kind.
“That’s what you want from me, correct? A relationship?” He took another drink of his whiskey. “I’m not interested, sorry if that disappoints you.”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 05-26-2017
A muted buzzing cut through the silence between them. It managed to sound urgent despite the lazy way he checked it. Owen’s gaze left hers to peer at the device and her eyes swept towards the floor, she sipped at the whisky just for something to do. There was something resolute in the way his phone clicked upon the desktop. Green eyes dared to look upwards again when he said her name.The sound of it wasn’t the same as it had been last night, or during their interactions at the bar. Julianna suddenly felt like she wasn’t talking to the same man that she usually was. He was different this way. Hard and colder somehow. She thought again of that buzzing phone and how it seemed to encourage his words. A busy man.
Indeed.
Julianna swallowed hard. Rapid blinks of her eyes pulled her gaze away from him, to the floor, to the windows, to the liquor cart against the wall. “Uhm, yeah...of course.” Her voice was a breathy waver as she acquiesced to the idea that he didn’t have time. Time enough to sit in her bar and have casual sex, but for nothing else. Her hand trembled as it lifted the glass to her lips, as if she was suddenly overcome with some great emotion. A disappointment, a sadness, or perhaps a rage.
All of this could have been avoided if he’d just answered her call.
All of this could have been avoided if she’d just taken a hint.
She wondered for a moment what she looked like to him right now. Was she just one woman in a line of women? Most of whom had come back to him and demanded something for their time. Did he think this was about money? That of course she would want to be involved with a billionaire. She glanced at him, features twisted into a hurt expression.
“I, uh…” she frowned and looked down at the glass she held in both hand, thumbs pushing at the condensation. “I don’t want anything from you,” she finished. She punctuated the finality of her words by standing. One hand pulled away from the tumbler to reach into her back pocket and pull out the business card he had given her. She moved forward just enough to place the card at the edge of his desk and set the glass on top of it; moisture from the cup seeped into the heavy card stock. She tried and failed to police her expression into something neutral as she looked down at him.
“I’m sorry that I came here.” For a lot of reasons. “Thank you for your time.”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 05-31-2017
That cliche line parents use when beating their children came to his mind: this hurts me more than it hurts you. He never understood the line until then. That fine tremble of her hand. The emotion evident behind her eyes though she was trying to keep herself together. It wounded him to see that pain in her. He knew she lied when she said she didn’t want anything from him.
She was sitting in his office because she wanted something from him that he wasn’t giving her.
Then she gave up his business card. It sat there useless for anything but soaking up the wetness from her glass.
He shoved himself up from his desk as she apologized and then thanked him. Rising to his full height put him at an advantage to gaze down at her. He steeled his face and buttoned his suit coat with one hand before rounding the desk. He stood with his hand on the handle to his door. This served to keep her from leaving before he had his last word.
“You’re young,” he said, an odd thing to say but it was still on his mind. “You’ll get over it. And you’ll learn that this vulnerability, this helplessness that you’re feeling now is what relationships are made of. One person,” he lifted his index finger to signify the number, “can call it all of in an instant.” He snapped his fingers to punctuate his point.
His fingers tightened on the door handle, “I’m sorry, Julianna, to disappoint you. It’s better this way, trust me.”
He waited giving her a chance to say what she wanted to, and then pulled open the door for her. “Thank you for coming Julianna. I wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors.” He said in his most detached business man voice for the benefit of any eavesdroppers as if what they’d discussed had been purely business. He wondered if she saw it that way.
There was nothing he could do about it. He was convinced it was better this way. Better to shove down anything he felt for her down and away and forget about it and her forever.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-01-2017
It was subtle, the way her steps quickened to reach the door before he did. She just wanted to be out of his office and on her way home. She didn’t want to keep looking at him, she didn’t want to keep talking about it. He had made himself very clear, but here he was, hand on the door and looking down at her. Her breath fell outwards in a sharp sigh as he intercepted her exit. She didn’t lift her face to look up at him, but her eyes lifted to lock with his and the slight furrow of her brow made it look like a glare. Her sadness gave way to anger as his words hit her ear like a lecture. Owen mentioned her age like a student being called out for flirting with a teacher. She wasn’t that young, certainly she was old enough to make her own decisions about relationships.
Julianna didn’t need this from him. As if she wasn’t aware of the volatile nature of relationships. As if she didn’t know how quickly they could be reduced to rubble beneath her feet. This was not the first time someone had disappointed her, not the first time that she had failed to make a connection with someone. She had nothing to do with her hands. Fingers balled into fists at her sides.
Better this way...
“Thank you for your consideration,” she replied, and her tone was so cold it was a wonder words didn’t fall from her mouth like sharp icicles. “My advice would be to stop giving women your phone number.” She felt as if she had nothing better to do than be petty. He had confused her; she was angry and embarrassed. She didn’t know what else to say to him. At the very least he could spare his future hook-ups the humiliation she felt right now.
He opened the door and she crossed the threshold. Owen’s final farewell felt like a knife being driven into the center of her chest. It sounded as if he had no intention of ever seeing her again. She inhaled slow, and deep to steady herself. If she ended up in tears over this foolishness she would wait until she returned home.
“Goodbye, Mr. Hart.”
It was the most she could do to finalize that distance between them and broadcast just how badly he had hurt her. To rob him of that familiarity he had requested from her all those nights in the bar. With those words hanging in the air between them, Julianna turned on her heel and left without looking back.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-11-2017
After what could only be characterized as an unfriendly break-up, Renton kept in contact with Julianna. They had an innocuous texting friendship. The kind that went along the lines of conversations starting with “hey what’s up” and “how are you doing.” In the weeks that passed, Renton was put in charge of planning Owen’s upcoming 36th birthday party. He had a notion that things shouldn’t be over with Julianna and his boss. He had a notion that there was more connection there than Owen would admit to and that his stubborn boss needed a push in the right direction.
These notions and his position as birthday party planner led to scheming. Scheming that led him to enter Julianna’s bar before opening one morning. He brought a gift of gourmet donuts and coffee for what would probably be a difficult conversation.
He, unsurprisingly, found the bar door to be locked given that he arrived before business hours. Renton knocked loudly on the window glass and waited to see if anyone would come to let the unannounced visitor in. He chose to come on a Saturday morning - since that was usually his only free time - and Renton was relatively dressed down from his usual corporate get-up. If wearing tailored grey chinos and a preppy polo were could be considered dressed down. His hair was in fluffier form than he would normally allow in the office environment. It was groomed into a perfect swoop and his eyes were shaded with dark Raybans.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-11-2017
Julianna groaned from her precarious spot on top of the ladder when she heard a knock echo from the front door. It had taken her entirely too long to safely get to the top with a case of new whiskies given her stature. She was tempted to ignore it, just like she had been tempted to ignore stocking the whiskies and most of the work she was supposed to do that morning. She wasn’t feeling particularly motivated. If nothing else, whoever was at the door could provide a good excuse for why she hadn’t finished setting up the bar. She dropped down from the ladder with a huff, wiping her hands off on her worn blue jeans as she crossed the venue to the door.
Renton was honestly one of the last people she was expecting to be on the other side of the barrier when she unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Hey,” she murmured, slightly bewildered as she looked over him over. Still quite fashionable, but more casual than she’d ever seen him. Like Owen, he made her feel under-dressed. She tried not to frown because now she was thinking about Owen, because his assistant was standing in front of her.
Green eyes tracked to the coffee and the donuts that he held. She squinted at him suspiciously, and pursed her lips. “Are those for me?” She asked because she wanted them, but she immediately felt like she was being buttered up for something. She reached over the threshold and plucked the coffee from his hand, before stepping back and into the bar and allowing him to follow her inside.
“What’s up?” She lifted the lid of the drink to blow off steam before taking a step. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-15-2017
“Heeeeey!” Renton greeted Julianna with almost an excess of warmth when she opened the door for him. He let her take a coffee and then he crossed into the business and let the door close behind him. Renton didn’t answer right away as to the reason for his visit. He plopped the box of donuts onto the bar top and opened it up with a flourish like some game show presenter.“I brought treats!”
He then pulled Julianna into a one armed hug that protected the coffee she held in one hand. He rubbed at her arm affectionately. “I missed you. You look great! How have you been?” He cooed these pleasantries at her. Renton knew he was laying the affection on thick, but he had to get her prepped for his request.
“So.” He clapped his hands together, getting down to business before she got too suspicious. “I was wonderinggg...if you did exclusive rentals of this space for like parties? Like a birthday party?”
He would save just who’s birthday party he was thinking of for the moment. Renton picked up a donut and took a big bite out of it. Blue eyes rolled as the decadent sweet hit his palate. “Omigod.” He said around a mouth full of bread. “So good.”
“It would be for Owen and like 35 or so of his friends and colleagues.” He slipped that in there hoping she would be too distracted by breakfast pastries to notice. Yeah right. A man could dream though.
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-15-2017
Julianna led him to the bar, and peered into the box of elegant looking pastries. She knew a bribe when she saw one. Renton was up to something. This wasn’t the first time someone had wanted something from her, and she knew the stages of being buttered up. She sipped at the coffee and hugged him back, and arm curled around his waist, before he pulled away. His gushing did bring a smile to her face, she was a big fan of positive attention. She left Renton to make himself comfortable in a stool, as she moved behind the bar. The space behind the counter top made her feel comfortable, and relaxed. She set the coffee down and reached for a filled donut topped with powdered sugar. Holding it between her fingers, she tried to determine the flavor while Ren set up his proposal. Shrugging, she bit into it. She was greeted with a sweet and silky cream cheese and a thick cherry filling.
“Yeah, I have parties here all the time.”
The bartender was waiting for the part where Renton revealed that the party was for Owen. Why else would he be here? Clearly Renton had his own ideas about what had happened between them. Her mouth dropped into a frown as he stopped dancing around the subject and dropped his name. She pushed the rest of the donut into her mouth and reached for another one. Julianna had a habit of eating her feelings, and another donut meant she didn’t have to answer him right away.
This donut was a banana fritter with a sweet matcha glaze. Where the hell had he found these over-indulgent baked goods? She ate half of her second donut before replying. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think Mr. Hart would want to have a party here, anyway.”
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-15-2017
Renton deflated somewhat but he wouldn’t be defeated. “Look.” He paused to regroup and bit into his donut and washed it down with a gulp of hot coffee that essentially melted the treat in his mouth. “I know Owen will want his party here. For one, he loves Hopscotch. He would never shut up about this place.”
Renton washed down the last bits of donut with another swig of his steaming coffee. “And second, I know he wants to see you and this would be a great opportunity. He’s stubborn but I know he misses you.”
Renton licked glaze from his fingers and then pinched them onto a napkin to clean them off. He kept a steady gaze on Julianna, hoping to wear her down by sheer willpower. “I think he knows he didn’t do right by you or himself when it came to the two of you. You know he kept that business card? I tried to throw it away and he yelled at me. So, of course, I was like ‘what the fuck Owen it’s a card you let get all wet from condensation why do you want that’.” He paused for dramatic effect to see if Julianna was on the hook for what Owen had said in response.
“And he was all pouty. ‘It was the one I gave to Julianna.’ And girl, he put it in his drawer and it’s. Still There.” He punctuated the end of his story by poking his index finger twice on the bartop. Renton folded his arms across his chest and his face arranged itself into a victorious smirk as if he had just check mated her.
"And I know you took his tie." He added sassily. "So don't act like you don't want to see that man."
RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-15-2017
Julianna reached for a third donut. She honestly couldn’t help herself. Not a lot of things made her uncomfortable, but being reminded of her one night stand and following failure to connect was managing to do that pretty well. This one was a simple cinnamon butterfly, she focused on the flavors of the donut instead of the comments Renton was making; insisting that Owen loved the bar and wanted to see her. She snorted and rolled her eyes. Forced herself to swallow the pastry over the lump that had formed in her throat. “He knows where to find me,” she answered with a stubbornness of her own. She tried to appear bored and disinterested, looking away from Renton and nibbling at her food as he insisted that she’d been wrongfully snubbed by the icy C.E.O. Her gaze skirted back to him when he mentioned the business card. The one she had purposely left for a dramatic effect of her own. Apparently, it had worked as intended.
She froze when he mentioned the tie, quickly masking the reaction by shoving the remains of the donut into her mouth and pushing away from the counter. She didn’t confirm his claims, only busied herself with arranging bottles on the shelves with her back turned to the assistant. There was a tightness in her shoulders that advertised her annoyance; she was taking the time to consider Renton’s proposal. “Fine. You can have the party here. I don’t know what you’re expecting, but I am not going to turn down the money.” She whirled around to face him, again and propped her hands up on her hips.
“What would Owen think of your meddling?” She cocked a brow at him.