Graham acknowledges Samson for the first time. “Yes, well, your story is just as intriguing. Absentee father, mother OD’ing on heroin. I’m guessing higher education wasn’t on either of your to-do lists.”
Samson’s fists clench, and I shoot him a side-eye. If Graham wanted to push buttons, let him; I wasn’t reacting. Anyway, what he said is true. Samson and I came from nothing, which made our success that much sweeter—and something to admire.
“I’ve done my homework, gentlemen.” Graham steeples his fingers. “But what I really want to know is what’s your secret to success?”
The question hangs between us because I want to get the wording exactly right. What Samson and I have accomplished has mostly come from intuition and gut feelings.
“Maybe it’s our background that fuels our success.” I wave my hand at Samson. “People look at us, and they see themselves. They see someone relatable. Someone they can connect to who understands what they want.”
I motion to Graham. “They look at you and see you at face value. Privileged rich boy, rich daddy, Ivy League school, impressive address.” I cock my head. “I did my homework too.”
“So, you feel your struggles made you strive for something better.”
“When you live the way we did, you have two ways to go. Most of the guys I came up with are either dead or doin’ time. Some guys get beat down by the pressure of a hard life. Drugs, booze. They don’t wanna change or can’t change, butthen there’s guys like me and Samson. The bad shit made us stronger, made us want a better life. And when you combine the life lessons we learned early on with that kind of drive, we’re unbeatable, ‘cause we got nothing to lose. The only way to go is up. We’ve already seen the shit side of life and got through it, so how are you gonna scare us?”
“Very interesting concept.” Graham pauses. “Although now you both have families and, I assume, people you care about.”
What the fuck is this guy saying?
“Doesn’t change our business attitude,” Samson offers.
“Unless what you do in business somehow puts your family in jeopardy.”
“That would never happen.” I lock eyes with Graham to make my point.
“That would be the hope, but as I’m sure you know, the nightclub business is known to have some unsavory characters lurking with their hands out.”
“Are you one of them?” Samson challenges.
Graham laughs lightly. “I’m just pointing out any establishment generating this amount of cash has enemies.”
“True.” I couldn’t deny his words.
“Before I enter into any business association with either of you, I have a few questions.”
“Ask away.” I keep my expression neutral, but my blood is racing through my veins at a dangerous rate.
“If we agree on the logistics of this deal, one of the locations I would like to launch Club Wicked is Miami.” He pauses, then adds, “I understand you had an unfortunate situation with someone you partnered with in South Beach, a Carlos Vega?”
“Just a misunderstanding.” Huge fuckin’ understatement. Carlos triedto take me out.
“A misunderstanding? If my intel is correct, he tried to gun you down in your own condo in South Beach.”
“He was under a lot of pressure from an outside force, and it didn’t go as he planned.” I shrug. “Obviously, I’m still here.”
“Outside force. Interesting.” Graham rests his palm on his knees. “That brings me to my next subject. I would need to know your ties with the Brooklyn mob are defunct.”
“Brooklyn was a long time ago,” I assure him.
“Maybe.” Graham locks eyes with me. “But isn’t Cheryl Benson the daughter of Frank Barnett, alleged mob boss, also romantically connected to you?”
My heart races, then slows. “She has nothing to do with Club Wicked.”
Fuck, how did he make the connection when our last names are different?
“Really? It was my understanding she runs a very high-end escort agency servicing this club.”
He really did do his homework.
