“Very succinct.” Gigi acknowledged, thinking over his question. Had anything changed? Well, she was no longer being cast in the role of lovelorn waif. She needed a title for her new role. Salacious strumpet? Hmmm, maybe, it had potential. But Nico didn’t need to know of her role swap. And as far as she could tell his role in this would remain unchanged. “But as to your question. No, I can’t foresee any problems.” Things were starting to look up. It felt like the balance in this partnership wasfinally beginning to even out. Only one thing would maybe tip the scales in her favour, if she could somehow convince Nico to step up. “Say, just how good a bartender are you?”
Chapter Nine
It had been three days since they’d gone public with their mismatched relationship aims. That Gigi was just using Nico for sex. Whilst his intentions were of a more respectable nature with him trying to win over more than just Gigi’s libido.
Their announcement appeared to have divided the support of the Southern Sanctuary inhabitants right down the middle. Based mainly upon gender.
The women vocally supporting Gigi embracing her feminist rights to put her own needs first, and not get bogged down in any patriarchal stereotypical straitjacket male - female relationship paradigm.
The local males came out in force to support Nico, offering sage advice and personal anecdotes that they thought he might find useful.
Though Nico had no idea how bad things could get until today, when Gigi volunteered that she needed to do some planning for a beach bikini blow-out come one-hundred and second birthday party, offering to work in the apartment above the bar so Nico could put in some hours. Plus, he really needed to take a break from all the useless research he’d been doing over the last few days.
Although right now he was missing the frustrating go-nowhere activity.
“Beautiful girl.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
It was like a flock of seagulls had taken up residence at his bar instead of five gentlemen from the Seniors Retirement Community, all well over one hundred and thirty-plus in age,but none looking older than their early seventies. All regulars. Terrance Dunst. Sigmund Galt. Kenneth Torrent. Cain Bright. And John Collins.
Though they didn’t normally choose to sit at the bar and chat with Nico.
“Woman.”
“What’s that?”
“You can’t call them girls anymore, it’s disrespectful.”
“Aye.” Echoed back in response from four different directions.
“Beautiful woman, then.”
“Aye.” Again, times four.
“A real sweetheart and smart.”
“Aye, a genius no less.”
“Aye, an expert in how many fields now?”
“Too many to count with just as many PhDs and Masters under her belt.”
Nico eyed the gleaming mahogany countertop. If he started banging his head against it, would they stop? Probably not.
“You’ve chosen a hard road to travel.”
“Aye.” Times four.
“Ah, but when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”
Punctuated by more – Ayes. What the hell were these men going on about? Perhaps Nico should double-check the alcohol content of the beer he was serving them.
“But a woman of Gigi’s calibre would be worth any amount of effort, if a man could win her heart.”
