“Thandie.”
She jumped at the sound of Adam’s voice. Quickly diverting her eyes, Thandie turned to face him.
“Do you want to see the DJ booth?” he asked.
She smiled. “Please lead the way.”
Star Island
South Beach, Miami
11:45AM
Elliot woke earlier than normal. It was a quarter to noon; practically daybreak for a person who kept his late hours. He hadn’t returned home until six this morning.
All three of his clubs had been exceptionally busy the previous night. Elliot routinely split his time between his clubs, which were conveniently located within a few blocks of each other. Because Babylon was his largest enterprise, it demanded most of his attention. However, he checked in with the managers at his smaller establishments regularly. It was important that they know he was engaged in their day-to-day operations, particularly when money was involved.
Typically, Elliot began his day at Babylon, would slip away for few hours to visit Lush and Red Door, and would return to Babylon shortly before closing to help with the shutdown. He liked to be on site when the money from the cash registers was collected. Closing the club up for the night was an efficient, yet time-consuming, endeavor.
* * *
With only a few hours of sleep, Elliot was surprisingly alert and ready to start his day. He indulged himself with a long workout in his home gym, before cooling off with a few laps in the pool. He felt invigorated, lighter than normal. He knew why. It was the thrill of a new hunt. He grinned as he recalled the look on Thandie’s face when he’d left her last night. She was damned cute when she was uncertain of herself. And sexy. He recalled quite vividly how those small shorts wrapped around her shapely bottom. He was looking forward to their dinner tonight.
Elliot showered and dressed for yet another long day. Romero was just parking his car in the drive when he emerged onto the front porch. His assistant looked surprised to see him up and about prior to his arrival.
Romero followed Elliot to his vehicle and got into the passenger seat. During the short drive to the Ocean Avenue bistro, they discussed his busy schedule. Predictably, the meal was cut short so not to be late for Elliot’s first appointment for the day.
The two set off again, arriving at Club Babylon. It was early, and the club was slowly coming to life. Most of the lights were still off and only a handful of staff members was present. Elliot went to his office. Romero followed him, turning on the lights as they went, before using the office phone to dial into a conference call. Tapping the speaker button so that the sound of ringing filled the room, Romero quickly left the office to attend to other matters. Elliot was already behind his desk, powering up his computer while he waited for the managers of Lush and Red Door to join the call. Markie Duran entered the office looking tired, clutching a notepad and a cup of coffee. These phone calls took a harder toll on Markie than the other club managers, because Babylon kept longer hours. Knowing Markie as he did, Elliot suspected he would take a power nap in his office before their evening meeting with the entire team.
Within minutes, the managers of both clubs joined the call, and the sharing of statistical data from the previous night got underway. These meetings were cumbersome, but necessary. Each general manager was protective of his information, and the undercurrent interoffice competition was glaringly evident. The managers of Lush and Red Door strived to outdo each other with their gross revenues, and Markie was determined to upset both clubs by generating double their combined totals. These calls were highly combative and often frustrating. However, Elliot enjoyed the competition amongst his managers. He was the winner regardless of the outcome.
An hour later, Markie still looked tired, but smug. He’d decidedly outperformed his cohorts from a revenue standpoint, but he had some improvement to do. As soon as the call was over, Elliot turned to him, and said, “Our capabilities should be better. We’re getting screwed on overtime hours due to all the confusion surrounding the reopening. Get our people trained up immediately. Also, I’ve looked at the budget for catering. We’re going overboard. Get with Eddie and cross-reference those numbers with the guest list we’ve been working on.”
There was a knock before Michelle swung open his office door. “Nico’s here,” the giant grunted.
Elliot turned away from Markie. “I think that will do it,” he said. “Gather that information for me, and let’s schedule some time together tomorrow.” Scooping up his paperwork and coffee cup, Markie exited Elliot’s office just as Nico entered the room.
Nico was a boy millionaire who grew his fortune by making unusual but rewarding investments. He and Elliot had known each other since their college days. Elliot had been a student at the University of Miami while Nico, who attended school in Italy, had a habit of chartering private jets to fly himself and a group of friends to South Beach for the weekend. His passion for wild parties and pretty women made him and Elliot instant friends.
Nico was Elliot’s closest friend and was therefore the only person who could honestly say he knew the real Elliot Richards. They shared confidences with the knowledge that the other would tease him mercilessly but in the end would help in any way possible. When Elliot wanted to buy his first club, it was Nico who had financially backed him. Although Elliot had managed to pay him back within a year, Nico had never mentioned the favor.
Whenever Nico was in town, they were inseparable. Much like their college days, they spent most of the time discussing business, partying and sharing women. It was a routine that came as naturally to them as breathing.
Elliot stood and met Nico halfway. They slapped hands and gave a brief hug.
“You look like hell,” Nico said.
Elliot grinned. “So do you.”
It was a stupid greeting that they’d practiced since first meeting and for some reason had never grown out of.
“When did you get in town?” Elliot asked.
“Yesterday,” his friend replied. “I won’t be here long, but it was a necessary trip.” Nico claimed the seat behind Elliot’s desk and began fiddling with his cell phone. “I just got a new phone yesterday, and I can’t figure out how to check my mail. I made a trip to the store to have them explain to me how to work the damn thing, but that kid was all of nineteen and seemed to get off pointing out to me how little I understood about technology. I should have told the little snot that I own a sizable portion of the company that designed the phone. Ah, here we go.” Nico reached for the desk phone and started dialing.
“Who are you calling?” Elliot asked.
“The engineer who designed my phone.” The speakerphone echoed the automated ringing. It rang exactly four times before a squeaky voice answered.
“Yeah?” answered the annoyed, high-pitched voice.
“Ralphie, this is Nico.”
The person on the other end cleared his voice. “Hello, Nico—I mean, sir. How can I help you?”
“You can start by explaining how I can check my email on my phone. Several people have sent me messages, but I can’t set up my browser right.”
“If you send it to me, I can adjust your settings.”
“Not an option,” Nico said. “I’m