David poured a measure of whiskey from the bottle next to him and slid the tumbler toward Liam. “How’d the Board take your announcement?”
Liam took a swig of the whiskey, letting the warmth ease his tension. “Not well. That’s one thing I won’t miss. Meetings are hell.” The Board had quizzed him endlessly on the nature of the “special project” he would be working on. Until he reminded them he held the majority of the company shares and he was informing them of his temporary leave, not asking their permission. Their concerns were valid. They probably worried he was dealing with a medical issue that could potentially impact the profit margin. He could only imagine their reaction if he told them he was taking a break to write his brother’s book.
He leaned against the counter and watched Jason stir a white sauce. The aroma of the cooking was heavenly. He’d existed mostly on takeout or microwave dinners until he’d stopped one day to talk to Jason, who was living on the street outside his building. Liam had invited the young homeless man for a burger and discovered he’d trained in culinary arts. Unfortunately, Jason had turned to drugs to cope with the long hours and exhausting work in the kitchen of one of the city’s top hotels. Within six months he’d lost his job, his apartment, and his self-respect.
Liam had paid for Jason to go into a private rehab clinic on the promise he’d then work as his personal chef. David and his sister often came over, and the four of them ate gourmet meals in the comfort of his home.
Although David and his sister Helen had their own apartment across the hall, they spent more time at Liam’s place than their own. Especially now with Marcus gone, Liam was happy he didn’t have to spend too much time in an empty apartment.
“How long till we eat, Jason?” Liam slung back the last of his whiskey and put the glass on the counter with a clunk.
“About twenty minutes. Will Helen be joining us?” Jason’s voice softened on David’s sister’s name and Liam shot him a look. Was his chef falling for his best friend’s sister? Maybe he could observe their romance and save himself the effort. As soon as the thought crossed his mind he heard Marcus’s voice saying the experience had to be personal.
“Not tonight. She’s working late,” David said. “Hey, I wanted to ask if you arranged that whole ‘knocking the drink out of your future girlfriend’s hand’?”
“You should know by now I don’t leave things to chance. I wanted to see her up close. So I called ahead and when I preordered our coffees I told the barista to make a second one for the woman I indicated. Hundred bucks goes a long way at a coffee shop. My secretary got her brother to play the bumbling fool.”
“Sweet.”
“As it’s just us men for dinner, I need some advice on how to be a regular guy. First, though, I’m going to take a shower.” Liam tossed back another handful of M&M’s and headed for his bedroom.
“Regular guys don’t drive Aston Martins or Maseratis,” David said as Liam stepped out of the kitchen.
He whirled around. “Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. What should I drive?”
“A Ford. Or Toyota Corolla.” An evil laugh followed David’s words.
“Or if you’re an environmentally conscious regular guy, then drive a Prius,” Jason said.
“Now you’re being cruel,” Liam said with a shudder.
“Welcome to your new hell.”
David’s words rang in his ears as Liam stomped off to his bedroom.
Chapter Two
Lorelei rubbed her hands over her eyes and tried to focus on the event plan. It was so much easier in Buffalo where she knew everyone with money—what they liked and disliked, and how much cash they could expect to part with at a gala fundraiser. Here, every selection was a gamble and the success or failure of the evening rested on research, gossip, and blind luck.
Lorelei’s office door creaked open and her assistant appeared. Mandy had two steaming cups of coffee in one hand and four huge files clutched to her chest. Lorelei hurried around the desk to relieve Mandy of the burden.
Her vivacious assistant had also become her first friend in San Francisco. It was impossible to resist Mandy’s charm and outgoing personality. They had a lot in common, both having Mexican mothers and American fathers. But in contrast to Lorelei, Mandy wore bright, vivid clothes. And her red lipstick left a crimson stain on her coffee cup, making it easy to distinguish from Lorelei’s.
“How’s it going?” Mandy gestured at the plan.
“Not bad. I’ve decided on the decorations, menu, and entertainment. I’m just waiting for the list of attendees from the Fundraising Department. I wish we knew how much we could expect to make out of this dinner. Why hasn’t the charity hosted one of these here before?”
“Dustin prefers to concentrate fundraising efforts at the family level. We do a lot of smaller events, a booth at local sporting activities, that sort of thing. This would be too much work for him.”
Organizing an elaborate dinner took a lot of effort, but fortunately it was something Lorelei was good at. She’d put on two themed dinners a year in Buffalo and they’d become society’s must-attend events. Of course there she’d had half a year to prepare, not a measly six weeks. And back east she knew exactly how much people could be expected to donate. With no past galas to base an estimate on, it was anyone’s guess how much they could hope to make here. If she wasn’t careful, she could spend way too much and wind up losing money.
A new email notification flashed up on Lorelei’s computer. As it was from Dustin, the Director of Fundraising, she opened it. “So far there are about one hundred who’ve RSVP’d that they’re coming,” she informed Mandy. “Dustin’s going to give me the official list of names a couple of days before the dinner. It would be so much easier if he told us who was coming instead of who’s declined. Evidently, IWC Security sent a donation but isn’t going to send anyone. While it’s great to get the money, it’s better to get a butt in a chair. Then they participate in the silent auctions and generally give more once they’ve seen the work we do. Who heads up that company? Maybe if I contacted them personally we could get someone to come?”
She held back a sigh. Dustin had been a pain in ass since she’d started. And he definitely hadn’t been happy when the charity’s Chairman had called telling them to hold a gala dinner within six weeks of her arrival. Dustin had insisted on sending out the invitations and controlling the guest list, but refused to discuss with her any other arrangements, saying it was her job to plan the event, his job to get people to show up.