41
Sam
Today was the day the article would go live, Diego had warned me.And sure enough, when I fired up the site over my second espresso, there it was, my face and words shining back at me.
Diego hadn’t twisted my words out of context and had even added some of his own thoughts to support my points.There was no question that Pierce would be pissed, but I had officially run out of patience with that blowhole, so he could think what he liked.
When I’d said the same thing to Jordan last night, he’d been supportive, if cautious (“I hope you know what you’re doing.”), and while I appreciated his concern, finally being able to defend my position was somewhat freeing.No risk, no reward, right?
It wasn’t a tactic I’d engaged often, but how often had public statements been used as a veiled middle finger in business?It was practically the status quo.Besides, what was the worst that could happen?Pierce wasn’t named, so he couldn’t claim libel.
Making a public comment would only serve to identify himself as part of the problem I was speaking about, and he was hardly going to do that.
A text message arrived from Tiffany.“Bold choice.”An image followed, a screenshot of the article, and she’d circled one particular section:
“What statement are you trying to make here?”
“I want to speak against the gatekeeping and misogyny that I’ve seen, and while I agree that this town has proven itself a bastion of innovation, change moves in many different directions, and as he sees it, inclusion is key.There’s a place for the over-designed wine bars of the world, just as there’s a place for the local club or tavern.Each offers an experience.”
“What experience are you offering?”
“In a word?Acceptance.Sick of feeling out of place at a wanky establishment?Nervous to order a cocktail because there are twelve ingredients you don’t know in it?My mission is to offer somewhere you want to be and enjoy being.Good drinks, mixed by professionals, and an atmosphere that no matter your preference or poison, you’re welcome.”
The rest of the morning, I waited for a sign that Pierce had seen the article and, hopefully, understood my message.In truth, I knew that as a businessman, and a proud one at that, any grudge he was going to hold against me would be harbored in private and expressed through thinly veiled barbs to my face—not unlike how he’d treated Tiffany at the dinner those weeks ago.
Even so, I could picture his scowl in my mind, and I was happy enough for now that he would know without a doubt I was referring to him.His absurd play at interference with the contractor still pissed me off, but at least now he knew I wasn’t going to fall in line behind him.If he needed someone to kiss his feet, he was going to have to look elsewhere.
It took two hours before he called.
“It seems you have something to say to me,” he said, ignoring any form of hello.
“Nothing that hasn’t already been said by my staff or me.”
“I’m not sure what you hoped to get out of this, but I would have hoped that you were smart enough to talk to me in private before making a statement like this.Instead, I received a call two days ago from a friend at the paper, telling me to prepare myself.”
“And yet you waited until today to call me.”
“Oh, I tried to get in touch with you on Saturday, but you weren’t around.”That would have been when I’d spent the day at Tiffany’s.
“You have me now.Is there anything in particular you want to say, or is this more posturing?Because I think I’ve made it quite clear that I won’t tolerate you harassing my staff or me any longer.”
There was a long drag of silence on the other end of the line, and I wondered if I’d pushed him too far.
“It’s counterproductive to make an enemy of me when we could work together instead.”
“I could.But as long as I dislike you, I know I’ve got good taste.”
Pierce clicked his tongue.“I thought you would have understood after that business with Star Constructions, but apparently not.And now that you’ve aired your dirty laundry publicly, I’m going to say to you the same thing I said to your favorite bartender.You should have realized not to fuck with me.But if this is how you want to play it, so be it.”
It was exactly the reaction I expected, but that didn’t diminish the sense of dread that trickled down my spine.
“Have a good day, Sam,” he said before hanging up, leaving me swallowing down the unfortunate fear that I’d just taken one risk I was absolutely going to regret.
A tall manwrapped in a thick navy coat stood in the center of the bar room, sharp eyes trailing over every beam, each worn floorboard.Once in a while, he paused, making notes on his smartphone.
“Could I see your identification again?”Amid my confusion, I wanted as many details as possible.Because if what I thought was happening was real, then I could be in trouble.
With a nod, he reached inside of his coat and held out his I.D.Yep, there it was: special agent for the Illinois Liquor Control Commission.Shit.
