Gin & Tonic: A Romantic Comedy Standalone (The Happy Hour Series Book 2)

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Flipping through his pictures, Caroline swooned. “He’s a cutie!”

  Annie nodded in agreement. “Wonder where he has been hiding all this time. I feel like between you, Sawyer, and Caroline, there are no men left.”

  “You found Waylon, didn’t you?” I teased, putting my phone on the coffee table.

  Strawberry coated Annabelle’s face as she bit her lip. “He’s a good one, isn’t he?”

  “And you snagged him right when he got into town. That’s impressive,” Caroline commented before chugging at least half of her beverage.

  “What are your plans tonight?” I asked Annabelle, waving for them to follow me into my bathroom to start the getting-ready process.

  “Waylon is taking me to Rocks on the Roof tonight. I’m kind of nervous.”

  I cocked my head to the side, looking at her through the bathroom mirror as Caroline called in to us from my bed where she had sprawled out with her papers and red pen. “Why? It’s not like this is your first date.”

  “It’s our first real date though.” She sighed while plugging in my hair straightener.

  “You know he is crazy about you. Just wear the little green dress that’s in my closet and you’ll be fine.” I smiled at her as her face lit up.

  “You mean it? You never let me borrow your clothes!” Annie was practically doing cartwheels.

  “That’s because you ruined my three-hundred-dollar black dress during prefs junior year,” I reminded her.

  “That was ages ago,” she whined.

  “And she’ll never let you forget it,” Caroline yelled. “She’ll never let any one of us forget that.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “I’m letting her wear the green dress, aren’t I?”

  “And I love you for it,” Annabelle squealed as she wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly.

  “Where is Harvey taking you?” Caroline asked.

  “Noble Fare,” I responded.

  Both of them oohed as I ran my hand over my face.

  “It’s too fancy for a first date, isn’t it?” I hated fancy first dates. They always made me so uncomfortable.

  “Not at all,” Annabelle said reassuringly.

  “Nope. I think you deserve it,” Caroline agreed before throwing a piece of paper in the air dramatically.

  “You all right over there?” I turned around to check on her.

  “If I have to see clover spelled wrong one more time on these papers, my head is going to explode.” She aggressively marked on the page in front of her.

  “They’re first graders—be happy they can spell their own name.” Annabelle snickered.

  “This is very true.” Caroline ran in and filled up our glasses of wine.

  Annie ran the straightener through her long locks as I put on my mascara. It was comforting to have them with me. First date jitters were starting to bubble up quickly.

  “Am I crazy for going on yet another first date?” I spit out.

  “How will you find your perfect match if you don’t put yourself out there?” Annie asked. “You guys always complained that I wasn’t trying. You need to take your own advice.”

  “I guess you’re right. It just seems so doomed at this point,” I admitted. I had kissed a lot of frogs, and none of them had turned into a damn prince. I couldn’t even remember the last second date I had been on. There were just droves and droves of awful firsts in my rearview mirror.

  “Don’t give up now. You don’t want to become an old maid, do you?” Caroline pestered with a hiccup.

  “Now you sound like my mother.” I shot her a wicked stare through the mirror.

  “Your mom is a very smart lady,” Annie insisted as she thumbed through my bag of lipsticks on the counter. “Can I borrow this one?” she asked, holding up a bright red showstopper.

  “Of course.”

  As seven o’clock rolled around, I slipped into a cream-colored, tight-fitting dress and modeled it for my girls.

  “What do you think?” I asked as I twirled in the living room.

  They both clapped.

  “You have found a winner,” Annie cheered as she shimmied into my green dress on the other side of the room.

  I topped my outfit off with leopard print pumps and a black envelope clutch. Showtime.

  Caroline grabbed her oversized purse, slinging it over her shoulder.

  Gripping her arm, I stopped her a few feet from the door. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’m going to Uber to my date since I had some wine, and Annie, you should do the same thing. We can have a slumber party when our dates are over.”

  “Yay!” Caroline cheered. “Girls’ night to be continued!”

  “Sounds like an amazing idea,” Annie responded, pulling out her phone to order a car.

  Chapter 5

  First Rule of Dating: Show Up On Time

  I got to the restaurant with only a few minutes to spare.

  “Thank you,” I muttered to my driver as I wiggled out of the cramped back seat.

  I glanced around the outside of the entrance—no Harvey in sight. Then I walked inside—still no Harvey to be found.

  “Do you have a reservation, miss?” the hostess asked with a kind smile.

  I glanced up at her from checking the time on my phone; it was already 7:38. “I’m just waiting for someone,” I responded.

  I opened up the app and shot off a quick message to Harvey: Just got to the restaurant.

  I waited.

  No response.

  And I waited.

  Still no response.

  And I waited a little bit more, standing by the front entrance like a complete idiot.

  I sent a defeated message to my girls: I think I’m getting stood up.

  Caroline: Nooooooo!!!! He’s not there yet?

  Sawyer: Maybe he was in a car accident? Let’s hope it’s that.

  Annabelle: You hope he got in an accident? You have no shame, Sawyer! But I am so sorry, Harper!

  Harper: I am going to give him about five more minutes and if he’s not here, fuck it.

  Caroline: I am waiting for you with wine and chick flicks! I got you boo bear.

  Caroline is drunk and alone in my apartment. I giggled at the thought of her curled up in my bed, cuddling a bottle of wine and watching Sleepless in Seattle for the umpteenth time.

  “Maybe I should just get our table,” I said awkwardly as I walked up to the host stand, where the greeter had been staring at me for the last twenty minutes.

  “What name would the reservation be under?” she sweetly asked with sympathetic eyes.

  I didn’t even know the guy’s last name. Crap.

  “Harvey,” I stated confidently.

  She scanned the appointment book in front of her. Pursing her lips, she glanced up at me. “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t have that name. You can wait at the bar if you want to.”

  Just as I was about to take her up on that offer, a man’s voice called out from behind me. “Harper?”

  Turning, I was not upset by what I saw. Harvey was dressed to the nines in a three-piece, charcoal gray suit.

  “I was starting to think I was being stood up,” I teased as I ambled over to him.

  He kissed me on the cheek. “I got stuck at an estate sale assessment. This poor widower wouldn’t stop crying, and I didn’t have the heart to rush him along as he told me story after story about how much his late wife loved oil paintings.”

  “You’re here now, and that’s what matters,” I reassured him as he walked to the host stand.

  “Two for Grant,” he stated sharply.

  His tone took me aback. It seemed a little rude for my taste, but I let it slide.

  “Right this way.”

  We followed the hostess to a table right next to a baby grand piano and Harvey planted his feet. “Not here.”

  “I’m sorry sir, but we’re fully booked tonight and this is our last table,” the hostess explained as she glanced around the room.

  “Do
you know who I am?” Harvey barked.

  “Mr. Grant?” she shyly muttered, clearly not knowing who the fuck he was other than the name he’d given for the reservation.

  “Yes I fucking am, and I demand to see your manager!” he yelled.

  Putting my hand on his arm, I sweetly smiled at the trembling girl. “This table is perfectly fine. We don’t need to see your manager.”

  I took my seat, waiting for Harvey to follow suit.

  “I can’t believe this,” he complained.

  “I can’t believe you.” I rolled my eyes. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous,” he explained. “Can we start over?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, letting out a slow breath. “All right. Hi, I’m Harper.”

  I goofily reached my hand out over the table.

  Laughing, Harvey took it. “It’s a pleasure, Harper. I’m Harvey Grant.”

  Small talk commenced with the usual chitchat. We were both locals, born and raised, and we’d gone to neighboring, rival high schools. He’d studied art history in college and had taken over his family’s business.

  Once the wine was poured, we had run out of things to talk about.

  I was so thankful when the server came up to take our orders—anything to stop the painful droning of Harvey going on and on about the ebbs and flows of art value.

  As I opened my mouth to order, he cut me off. “I will have the braised beef short ribs, and the lady will have the vindaloo chicken.”

  I glared at him before speaking up. “No, the lady will have the duck. Thank you.”

  I handed my menu to the server, waiting for him to walk away. “Don’t do that,” I bit out.

  He tensed his shoulders. “I thought it was customary for the man to order for his lady.”

  I couldn’t believe this guy. “Let’s get something straight: I am not your lady. This is our first date. You have no idea what I like or dislike when it comes to food yet. How dare you assume I need someone to order for me.”

  He rolled his eyes, plopping his elbows on the table—another pet peeve of mine. “Oh, I see. You’re one of those liberal chicks who thinks she’s too good to have a man’s help.”

  “I think this date is over.” I stood up, grabbed my bag, and marched away.

  “What? Am I too much of a man for you, hippie chick?” he yelled after me from his seat.

  I wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet, so I stomped up to the lounge bar.

  Huffing onto a stool, I ordered a gin and tonic and the duck for myself. A terrible date wasn’t going to stop me from having the dinner I wanted.

  “So we meet again,” a vaguely familiar voice stated as the chair next to mine was pulled out.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I was happy to see the kind face of Rhett as he took a seat next to me.

  “You always show up with impeccable timing.”

  “Oh really? Another one of your clients going to show up fist-fighting their spouse?” Rhett sniggered.

  “This time it was me almost getting into a fight,” I admitted before slamming down the bottom of my cocktail.

  Rhett waved over to the bartender. “Can we have another round over here please? I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

  “Coming right up,” the leathered barkeep replied.

  “Care to elaborate on your night?” Rhett turned more toward me. “By the way, you look stunning tonight. Was it a date from hell?”

  “Thank you for noticing.” I smoothed out my dress a little. “And you nailed it—totally awful first date.”

  “He didn’t check his dating profile while he was at the table, did he?”

  “No.” I giggled. “Is that a thing that has actually happened to you?”

  Rhett held up two fingers. “It has happened to me twice, with two different women.”

  “Holy fuck. You win.” I raised my rocks glass to his. “Cheers to the terrible plight of the dating game.”

  “It really is awful, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Is it too much to ask for a person to just be decent? My standards aren’t even that high.”

  “I’m on a dating hiatus for the time being. I can’t keep dealing with all the women looking for free meals and asking if I like having things shoved up my butt.”

  I nearly spit out my drink. “You cannot be serious!”

  He shrugged. “It happens more than I care to admit. Most of the time, a question along those lines is dropped like an atom bomb before the first drinks have even been consumed.”

  “And I thought the dude who admitted to having a micro-penis on the first date was terrible,” I confessed.

  “Well, I’m glad I could save you from being alone tonight. Is the dude still here?” Rhett followed my gaze into the dining room.

  I pointed to the table in the middle of the restaurant. “He’s right over there.”

  My dinner was delivered and Rhett cocked his head to the side. “I have an idea. Go with me here.”

  “Okay…” I narrowed my gaze at him as he called over to the bartender.

  “Will you wrap this up for her please?” Pulling out his credit card, he shoved it into the man’s hand. “Put it all on my tab and close us out.”

  “You got it, sir.”

  “You don’t have to pay for me,” I protested, pulling my wallet out.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Rhett said with a smile, waving me off. He grabbed the doggy bag from the bar top and took my hand. “Come on. Just laugh and pretend we’re having the best time.”

  Dragging me right through the middle of the restaurant, Rhett laughed along with me, glancing over his shoulder at me just as we passed Harvey’s table. “I am so glad I ran into you tonight, beautiful!” Rhett called out.

  I looked back to see Harvey stewing as he glared at us.

  Best comeback ever.

  As we made it out of the restaurant, Rhett turned to me. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  I shook my head. “I think you’ve done enough rescuing for the week.”

  “I really don’t mind,” he stated as he handed me my to-go bag.

  “I’ll just get a car. I don’t live too far from here.”

  “I totally get it. It was nice running into you again.” He gave me a quick hug.

  “Hopefully next time it won’t be when someone needs to be rescued, though I suppose that is for fate to decide.”

  “Have a good night, Rhett.” I waved as he started to walk away from me.

  “You too, Harper. Get home safely.”

  “I will.”

  “Honey, I’m home,” I sang out, walking through my front door.

  Caroline rushed out of my room. “Well?”

  “Another dud.” I threw my keys onto the counter and took the wine glass Caroline had filled and now held out for me.

  “That bad, huh?”

  I grabbed two forks out of the drawer and followed her to the couch. “Late, rude, jerk.”

  “Sleepless in Seattle or When Harry Met Sally?” Caroline asked, pulling up the on-demand screen on my TV.

  “Dealer’s choice. Hungry?”

  She took a fork out of my hand. “That smells delicious.”

  “Dig in. The night wasn’t a total waste, though—that guy from the bake sale was there.”

  Caroline shifted to look at me. “Rhett Davis?”

  I nodded. “He totally saved me from sitting alone at the bar at the end of the night.”

  “Maybe you should just date him,” she mumbled with duck rolling around in her mouth.

  Chewing on the inside of my lip, I mulled it over for a second before responding, “He’s on a dating break.”

  “That’s only a speed bump.” She chortled before settling on The Dating Game for our viewing pleasure.

  As the beginning credits started to play, I got a text from Annabelle: Don’t wait up. I think I’m going home with Waylon tonight.

  “Seems like Annie’s date is going better than
mine.” I showed Caroline the text.

  “Good for her.”

  “Yeah, that lucky bastard,” I grumbled dramatically before laughing.

  “We’re all in this together. We’ll all have our day in the sun with Mr. Right.”

  “I hope you’re right, Caroline. I really hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 6

  Learn the Lesson: Take the High Road

  With a screaming headache, I rolled into work thirty minutes late.

  “Morning,” I grumbled to Susie, holding my giant coffee thermos in the air.

  “Good morning, Miss Collins. Don’t forget the board meeting in an hour.” Susie’s chipper demeanor made me want to hurl.

  “Thanks,” I remarked, rushing into my office to tackle the pile of work I needed to get through before the meeting.

  When I opened my laptop, my heart sank. I was greeted with a new email that had just come through titled: Urgent – I need HELP. It was from Dahlia. I took a long breath in and stared at my computer screen for a few seconds.

  Here goes nothing.

  Harper,

  I think I might have fucked up yet again. I don’t know if I should be writing this in an email but saying it out loud seems so much harder. I think I might have messed up even more. I was driving by The Bohemian Hotel on the riverfront on my way home from dropping Noah off at school and I saw Harry’s Camaro pulling up to the valet. I pulled over and watched him get out before helping one of his whores out of the passenger’s side. I waited until he was inside and checking in at the front desk. I felt like I was going to puke. I completely snapped. Once the valet took the car to the garage, I went in and slashed his tires and keyed the ever-loving piss out of his shiny red paint job. I felt like I was on autopilot. It was a total out-of-body experience. What should I do? Should I turn myself in? Do I confess? Are there cameras in parking garages? Am I going to be arrested? Please call me.

  -Dahlia

  Holy fuck! What a way to kick off the morning.

  She was turning into more of a project than I had ever thought possible. How could one client cause so much trouble in only a few days?