“Selective Services is employed by many clubs in Vegas and California.” An answer without an answer.
“Yes, I’ve seen her website. Very impressive. She’s a very beautiful woman.”
My jaw clenches. “Cheryl handles her business and has nothing to do with the running of Club Wicked. That goes the same for her father, Frank Barnett, who is now based in Los Angeles.”
I leave out any other personal information about Cheryl and me. Seems like he already knows too much about both of us.
“I see. I’m happy to hear this because I wouldn’t want to have to deal with any outside forces of a dubious nature.”
“Look,” Samson leans his palms on the coffee table, “the bottom line is, are you gonna do business with us or not?”
“I like a man who puts his cards on the table without a lot of dancing around.” Graham smiles wide. “I’ve already put a proposal together as to what I’ll be able to do for the advancement of Club Wicked. I just felt this interview was necessary to see who I was dealing with, and have a few pertinent questions answered. As I said before, you are both very impressive.”
“So, where do we go from here?” I ask.
Graham stands. “When I return to my office, I’ll have my assistant send the documents for you to look over, and if my proposal meets your approval, just sign it, and we can put everything in motion next week.”
“Sounds good.” I extend my hand, and we shake as Samson looks on.
I walk Graham to the door, and the bouncer escorts him to the elevator.
After closing the door, I turn to Samson’s glare. “I know—you don’t like the guy.”
“He’s too fuckin’ smooth.” Samson knocks a smoke out of the pack on the coffee table. “And what was all that shit about dragging up our past?”
I sit in the opposite chair. “We did a search on him too. It’s just that he sounds better on paper than we do.” I throw my hands up. “Can’t deny it. We did have shit upbringings; doesn’t make what he did wrong. If he’s gonna invest money in the club, he has a right to know where we’re coming from and what we’re about.”
“I suppose.” Samson drags deep on the cig and leans against the couch cushions. “But how about him bringing up Carlos in Miami? That was ten years ago. How did he even find out about it?”
“Yeah, that threw me for a second too, but I have a feeling, even though Graham looks like a privileged fuck, he’s gotten his hands dirty a few times. You can’t run in these circles and not hear the stories. He obviously knew about Frank and our connection to him, so if he dug a little deeper, I guess knowing Carlos tried to end me isn’t a stretch.”
“Just don’t like people poking in our business.”
“When he sends over his proposal, we look at it, then decide. Just ‘cause we do business with the guy doesn’t mean we have to like him.”
“That’s a plus.” Samson flips a look at his watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Portia’s recital?”
“Shit!” I glance at my watch. It’s almost seven, which means the twenty-minute drive to Portia’s school plus traffic will make me late. Not good.
I gather up my smokes and my phone, shove them in my pocket and head for the door.
“Good luck,” Samson calls behind me.
I’m in the garage in record time. I chirp the lock, figuring out in my head the best route to Portia’s school to avoid traffic.
“Hey, Nick.”
I spin around and narrow my eyes as the familiar figure comes out of the shadows. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“You and me were never friends.” I widen my stance, keeping my eyes glued to Sal’s hands.
“I tried to get in the club the other night, and the bouncer said I was banned.” Sal shrugs. “Must’ve been some kinda mistake on his part, right?”
“No mistake.”
“Sorry to hear you feel that way after all you and I went through back in Brooklyn.”
