“Said he came with good recommendations from the head of security at Tao.” I placate. “Let’s at least talk to him and see what he has to say.”
“Don’t have to. I know exactly what he’s gonna be like, and so do you.”
Sure, from the research I uncovered, Graham was a preppy asshole with a rich daddy and a trust fund, but he was also smart, and anything he touched turned to gold. So why not let some of that good fortune rub off on Club Wicked?
“This isn’t the old days back in Brooklyn. You gotta branch out every once in a while.”
“People are people, Nick—don’t matter where they come from. Assholes come in all shapes and sizes.”
Cheryl gives me the eye to get off the phone.
“I’ll be there in a few.” I disconnect the call and shove the phone into my pants pocket with more force than necessary.
I contemplate escaping out the front door, but Cheryl and I made a pact when we got back together to always say goodbye in the morning and to never go to bed mad. I draw in a deep breath and find her examining the enormous tree in the family room that almost reaches the skylight of the vaulted ceiling.
“Everything looks perfect, babe.” I wrap my arm around her waist. “But I gotta get going. Gotta make a few calls on my way in to Wicked.”
“The club doesn’t open until eight tonight.I don’t understand why you have to run off. I thought maybe we could have breakfast together.”
“Forget it. I got way too much to do with all the holiday parties coming up next week.”
“Fine, but don’t forget about tonight.”
Shit, what the hell is tonight? I swear, between my schedule, Cheryl’s and Portia’s, there was always something.
Portia has as many commitments as I do, between dance, cheerleading, ceramics classes, and who the fuck knows what else. The kids today have every day planned six months in advance. Add to that Cheryl’s demanding schedule and monthly trips to her office in L.A. and my crazy hours, we are stretched thin. We share a family calendar, and I still fuck it up sometimes. Thank god for Izzy, Cheryl’s personal assistant, who is more like family and picks up the slack.
I slip my phone out of my pocket to check the calendar without Cheryl noticing.
“It’s at seven o’clock,” Cheryl adds.
“Right.” I still have no fuckin’ clue what’s up. I scroll to my calendar, but the only thing there is the meeting with Graham Pierce that I already missed.
“I gotta go.” I pull her to me and nuzzle her neck, inhaling the scent of her exotic perfume. Maybe I’ll just call Izzy later. She’s sure to know what’s going on tonight at seven.
“I know you think I’m going overboard, but I just want everything to be right.” She stills in my arms. “I need to do this, maybe for me.” She lowers he head. “As a kid, there was no real tree or fake tree. Most times, my mother wasn’t even home. Then all the years you and I were apart. I gave Portia what little I could afford, but it was never enough.”
“I get it.” I cup her cheek. “I just hate to see you drivingyourself crazy.”
Aside from the abuse and addiction both Cheryl and I endured, I sometimes envied the last generation’s uninvolved parenting. Cheryl calls this new approach being a helicopter parent, but shit, I think it’s more like a stealth fighter pilot.
“We’re finally all together, and I want this to be the best Christmas ever for all of us.” The doorbell rings, and she jumps out of my arms. “That must be the poinsettias delivery.” She races to the front door and ushers in two delivery men with poinsettias in numerous colors.
Portia enters the foyer from upstairs, and her eyes widen. “Wow, that tree is even bigger than the other one.”
I screw up my lips and nod to my wife. “I told you so.”
“Isn’t it beautiful, honey?” Then she turns to me. “And don’t tell me you’re any different. I heard your side of the conversation with Samson, and you’re just as driven as I am.”
“Yeah, about business.” I wave my arm around the room. “Not all this decoration bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit, and maybe if you were more involved, it would take some of the pressure off me.”
“Babe, you know I don’t have time for this stuff. I got a?—”
“Yes, I know, you’ve got a mega-club to run.” She ends her sentence with a pointed glare.
“And good thing for that mega-club with what you must’ve spent on all this shit.”
