Beau looked immediately. He’d been anticipating this Macallan a long time, but pussy was always king. Or queen. Brigitte aimed her freshly-filled shot glass at a redhead across the bar.
He hummed dubiously. “She reminds me of Karen.”
“The psycho stalker from a couple years ago?”
“She wasn’t a stalker. Just really enthusiastic.”
“Redheads are out,” Brigitte decided.
Beau scanned the crowd. Brigitte liked this game, because Beau was rarely satisfied with anyone. He found faults like he was paid to. Brigitte ate that up like candy, feeding her ever-thriving self-esteem. But tonight, Beau wasn’t going to be picky. He’d earned this, a nice, easy, no-strings fuck, and he’d take the first attractive girl who bit.
He spotted a blonde in an orange tank top that showed off a golden tan. “She’spretty.”
Brigitte craned her neck. “But she’s so tall. You like short girls.”
He looked down at Brigitte, who, like him, was seated on a stool. She only came up to his shoulder. “No, I don’t.”
“Fine, fine.” She cupped her hand around her mouth. “Hey, you. Blondie.”
The girl glanced back. When she realized they were looking at her, she turned around.
“Over here,” Brigitte said, waving.
“Calm down,” Beau muttered. “This isn’t a rodeo.”
The girl clutched the strap of her purse and came a little closer. “Do I know you?”
“My brother needs to get laid.”
“Christ, Brigitte.” Beau glared at her a second before turning to the blonde. “I apologize. She was just kicked out of the circus.”
“I'm sorry to be forward,” Brigitte drawled, as if it took great effort to say. “What’s your name?”
“It’s…Hannah.”
“Hannah, the thing is, my brother’s celebrating. And he’s just looking for someone easy tonight.”
Beau sighed and held up his glass to the bartender. “I’ll take another.”
Hannah rolled her eyes and turned away. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
“What if I told you he’s a millionaire?” Brigitte called after her.
She stopped. The music lulled between songs, but the bar remained loud with conversation.
“And in about five seconds,” Brigitte continued, “I’m going to move on to the next girl.”
Hannah turned sideways, eyeing Beau. Not many girls had walked away from him over the years. “Is that true?” she asked.
He didn’t respond at first. He was fascinated by the look she was giving him, her lips parted, an eyebrow arched high. So torn about whether to believe them. Hollywood had no shortage of wealthy men, but this was a dive bar he and Brigitte had grown fond of. Millionaires didn’t hang around here. Not that he technically was one yet—he had a few hours to go.
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “My sister moves fast.”
“No, not that…” Hannah turned fully around. “I mean the millionaire thing.”
Beau knew what she meant. “Can you give us a minute?” he asked.
She hesitated, looking between the two of them. “I mean, I believe you. Your suit’s expensive.”
