Falling for the Billionaire Dad Next Door

Chapter 4 : The Date That Wouldn’t End

*Oliver*

I raised my hand at the waitress, and she rushed over with a well-rehearsed smile.

“Give me another glass of scotch on the rocks," I said.

“Very well, sir," she replied and collected the empty glass in front of me. I was trying to ignore Gia's disgusted glare.

“Are you going to sit there and drink all night?" This was the third time she had asked me the same question. I wondered if my continuous request for a refill wasn't an answer enough for her.

“I missed my chance to play golf with a potential investor because you couldn't decide on which shade of lipstick to put on," I answered.

As I uttered the sentence, I wondered if it sounded as stupid to her as it did to me. Who put so much effort and time into something as trivial as lipstick?

I tried to think back to when I was married. Granted my ex-wife had been just as obsessed about her looks, but she had never had a mental breakdown just because she couldn't decide which lipstick shade would look best on the rare occasion that some paparazzi would take some photos of her.

“My looks are my money maker. I don't want to be on the front page of some magazine with a shade of lipstick that looks cakey or just doesn't make my eyes pop," she said, and pouted her red lips at me for emphasis.

“Red lipstick! That is what you ended up going for. Did you really have to spend an hour and a half deciding on a shade of lipstick, just to end up going with red? The red you always wear anyway?"

“No, honey. I don't always wear red. This is cherry. I usually wear ruby or allure," she said as she waved a finger at me.

I sighed. Were we really arguing over lipstick? And was she trying to preach to me about the different shades of red? What men, or any other person, for that matter, would be concerned about what particular shade of red graced a person's lips? Red was red.

The waitress came back with a glass of scotch on a tray. She smiled as she placed it in front of me. Before the condensation on the outside of the glass could even glide down onto the coaster, I picked the glass up and took a few gulps of the liquid, welcoming the burning, yet numbing, sensation of the golden fluid.

“Red lipstick. Gia, you amaze me," I said as I placed the glass back on the table.

“Thank you," she beamed at me, choosing to take my statement as a compliment, which it definitely wasn't.

The waitress came back to our table with the same smile painted on her face. I looked over her shoulder and could see the manager standing at the bar and watching the female server like a hawk. The smile on the girl's face looked pained and forced. I was sure she had probably been told that she was waiting on important people. I wanted to try to make her feel at ease and show us a genuine smile, but my current mood wasn't allowing for any of my dad jokes to flow. My companion wasn't doing anything to improve my mood either.

“How long have you been working here, Lisa?" I asked, reading her name tag .

The girl looked at me and glanced over at her boss. I could tell from her slightly trembling hand as she put the empty tray she was holding behind her back that she was scared. It seemed like she wasn't used to patrons asking her personal questions.

“I… I'm working here for the summer, sir. I hope everything is to your liking, though." It dawned on me that she probably thought I wasn't happy with the service.

“Everything is fine, Lisa. Thank you."

“Would you like to order anything to eat?" she asked.

“When we are ready, we will call for you. Can't you see we are in the middle of a serious discussion? How rude!" Gia said as she waved her arm at the girl as if she was shooing a fly away.

The girl mumbled a rushed apology and scurried away.

“Really? Is your lipstick shade an important enough discussion to warrant such a harsh response? The poor girl is just trying to do her job," I said as I let my palm rest against the width of the glass.

“She was undressing you with her eyes. I'm sure she knows who you are and how much you're worth. You were also flirting with her, and I will not stand for that nonsense. As a matter of fact, I want to talk to the manager and ask for a more seasoned server."

I took another sip of my drink and frowned. The bitter beverage had nothing to do with the sour look on my face. Gia was insecure, and her insecurities could never be categorized as cute. They just made her sour and nasty.

“You will do no such thing, Gia. The poor girl wasn't flirting," I say.

“Really? So you are defending her, Oliver? How typical. A real man is supposed to make their woman secure, not have her fighting for his attention. To think I was going to give you a little special something tonight. Now, you can forget it. Either ask Mrs. Palm and her five daughters to handle that area or take your dear Lisa home with you," Gia said a bit loudly, causing some diners to turn and look in our direction.

“Lower your voice, Gia," I warned. My voice sounded surprisingly cool even to my own ears compared to the rage that was bubbling in my chest, hotter than the beverage I was consuming.

“Lower my voice? You flirt with our waitress, and now you order me to lower my voice? Which part do you want to be kept a secret? The fact that you are flirting with a mere server and ignoring me or that I won't let your c*ck near me tonight?" she shouted even louder.

All I could do was glare at her. It seemed I was waiting for the moment when two horns would pop out on either side of her head. The red dress and red lipstick were already a great color to compliment the dress code of this devil reincarnate in front of me.

“Do you ever stop and just think before creating scenes? For a person who is all about keeping up appearances, you surely know how to make yourself look bad. Even your supposed great sense of fashion can't do much to hide the ugliness from within. What the h*ll is wrong with you?"

“Oh, so now you are insulting me? What wrong have I done to you, Oliver? All I have ever done is love you and be there for you. Why do you insist on mentally abusing me so much?" With that, she started sniffling and rummaging in her purse for a tissue.

What was wrong with this woman? How was she so good at making her own bed of nails and then accusing me of forcing her to sleep on it?

“I think it's time for me to go," I said as I got up, throwing a wad of cash on the table.

“You're just going to leave me here, Oliver? You are so heartless. How am I supposed to get home now?"

I stopped and looked at her as she tried and failed to produce any real tears as she sniffled. For a great actress, I was amazed by how she couldn't cry on cue.

“I'll call a taxi for you," I said as I placed my hands in my pockets.

“Taxi? You want ME to use a taxi? Oliver, do you know who I am?"

“Who? The greatest actress alive? If a taxi isn't good enough for you, hire a private jet to fly you home then, princess. I am done with your drama. Don't you get tired? Drama in and out of real life. I can't do this anymore!" I said as I prepared to walk away.

“Are you breaking up with me, Oliver? If you walk away, I will never let you back again. You will never find anyone like me!"

“That's the whole point," I muttered underneath my breath as I made my way toward the exit.

***

I opened the windows of my car as I drove home. I needed the fresh air to clear my head. Although I had drank a few glasses of alcohol, I wasn't as bothered by it as I was by Gia's outburst and behavior. I prayed that there was no press around to capture the embarrassing moments.

For a person who had only drank kiwi juice the whole night, she had behaved like she had drank the alcohol. Maybe she was high by the time we left her home that evening, or my drinking's effects had transferred to her somehow.

I had on many occasions overlooked Gia's behavior. I would like to say love is blind, but I doubt love is a word that could be used to describe what Gia and I shared. I wondered if maybe I should have just offered to drive her home, but knew this was for the best. I couldn't imagine myself enduring the fifteen-minute drive to her house with her. A minute with Gia could easily feel like an hour. Enough was enough. I didn't need drama in my life.

When my ex-wife walked out of my life, I had promised myself to avoid drama like one would a plague. Why had I gone and brought more drama on myself again? This time it seemed it was the reloaded version.

As I drove past the professor's house, my foot eased off the gas pedal. I could feel the acceleration decrease with such smoothness I smiled at the great performance of this car.

I peered at the house wondering if the dancing girl was awake. The lights were on, and I strained to catch a glimpse of any movement coming from the house. I lowered the volume of the car stereo and listened for any loud music. There was only a disappointing silence.

I chuckled as I asked myself what I would do if I were to even spot her. Would I go there and say, “Hello, neighbor. Sorry about the outburst earlier. I'll bring you some muffins in the morning to welcome you into the neighborhood." Maybe if there was loud music, I would use that as an excuse to go tell her to turn it down.

It just seemed as though I couldn't get the girl out of my mind. She had cast a spell on me. The wind whistled through my open window as I slowed down even more. What was I doing? I had just broken up with a woman because I was tired of drama, but here I was hoping to catch a glimpse of a very gorgeous and way-too-young girl who would probably bring more drama with her.

It seemed I was doomed to attract drama, and I had to find a counter spell to her enchantment. Oh, boy, those hips! Those perky breasts! D*mn my unending fascination with theatrics!