Excelsior

Chapter 23: Networking

"How come that my card has been declined?" Mrs. Lowell yelled at the waiter, "that's impossible.

The man tried to apologize, and she didn't let him speak.

"That must be a mistake. Check that POS."

"Do not worry," Mr. Wilson said, "I'll pay the bill."

"Thank you, George. I still want to pay for my own margarita."

Mr. Wilson took out his wallet. As it was

El Sr. Wilson sacó su billetera.

As was customary in her, Mrs. Lowell checked on those around her, just not in a desired way. The incident was witnessed by a few onlookers, and among them was a peculiar man with long, graying hair, who would usually be seen wearing a cowboy hat outdoors.

"If it's not too much of a hassle," the man stood up and went to their table, "I could pay your bill, Mrs. Lowell."

George and Selma were stunned. They couldn't say anything for a few seconds. The man, with an arrogant smile, had his card out. Selma's eyes had locked on it after seeing that it was a black.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Abot," George replied irritably, "I can pay my expenses."

"I insist." He turned to the waiter. "Charge their account to mine."

The waiter nodded and left.

"And to what do I owe the honor?" Selma asked, looking at the table he was coming from.

"May I?" he sat down, "I'd like to introduce myself, Mrs. Lowell. I'm Pietro Abot.

"I know who you are."

The man laughed.

"Of course you know!"

Mr. Wilson was looking at them both nervously.

"What surprises me is that you know who I am."

"Who wouldn't know that? The classy Mrs. Lowell."

She blushed.

"The gold-digging and blackmailing woman who made up rumors about the excellent Mr. Du pont to have access to his fortune."

Selma's smile quickly turned into a scream of anger. Mr. Abot laughed again.

"Just kidding, Selma. Anyway, I think you and I could talk about certain matters... businesses, with no third parties," he looked at Mr. Wilson, "of course!"

"I think that's formidable, Pietro. You can count on me."

Pietro handed her a card.

"If you'll excuse me, my wife is waiting for me over there. Enjoy your evening, you lovebirds," he said, touching Mr. Wilson's shoulder.

"Actually, we're not..."

Mr. Abot did not bother to listen to him and left. George watched as Selma stared at the card she had just received.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You know that Pietro is so rich, don't you?"

Her eyes filled with greed.

"You are not thinking of extorting Mr. Abot. It didn't even work with Harold. He's influential too."

"I won't lose anything by trying. Just imagine what a huge trust I could get if I played my cards right with this man."

"I would not trust Mr. Abot if I was you. He is a corrupt and manipulative man."

"Just like Harold and all the men in this city. I am sure that you have also done not so orthodox things to finance your lifestyle."

George was speechless.

"The man is handsome and charismatic. I am surprised by his ease in coming to talk to us without even knowing us. It gives me a good vibe, don't you think?"

George decided not to comment on the matter, only that, like her, he felt a vibe, only that in his case it was bad. He saw Pietro laugh with his wife for a moment, and had to admit that the man was striking and convincing, only he wondered why he would want to discuss business with Selma, and especially what those businesses would be about.