“Do you have any idea how bad they are for your feet? Can’t I buy you some comfortable boots or something?”
“They make my legs look good,” I murmur. “Plus, it’s better when I can look down on a man when I kick him out. You dudes are all stupidly tall.”
Flynn’s frown doesn’t fade. “Wear sneakers. Think of your hips in your old age.”
“Nope.”
He scowls at me and then plucks a folder off the desk in front of him and throws it into my lap.
“Would you have a look at this?”
I open it, raising my brows at the beautiful business plan he’s put together. We’ve been developing a strategy for the new club for a while, and Flynn has a series of big meetings with investors coming up.
The area of New York where we want to build the club isn’t the most affluent, but Flynn has been talking about its potential for years. The Low Ferry district has a subway station right beside it with several up-and-coming restaurants nearby.
The neighborhood is slowly becoming a magnet for young club-goers, and Flynn’s had his eye on it for years. I love the new venue he’s found almost as much as I love Jensons.
“Wow, Fly, this looks amazing.”
“It needs your eyes on it. You know I can’t spell for shit. But I spoke to this graphic designer, and she’s been helping me with the look.”
I glance up at him. “She? Would this be the graphic designer you said you were going to take to dinner the other week?”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Uh-huh, sure you don’t. I wondered why you were so dressed up. Did you come straight from her place by any chance?”
“What are you, a psychic?” he mutters. “Alright, fine. Yes. Her name’s Jessica. She’s cool, and she has a lot of talent.”
“That is so cute.”
“Shut up, Jax.”
I snicker as I flick through the papers in the folder. It’s good, but Flynn has never been the best at getting his point across. He tends to ramble and get overexcited by minor details.
“Send me a list of the meetings you have coming up,” I say. “We’ll want to pitch it slightly differently to all of them. When you meet with Robertson, he’ll only give you 15 minutes. That means get the pitch in his face as quickly as possible. Here,” I hold the folder up, pointing to a teal-colored block at the base, “put this at the top, and highlight the key projections right off the bat. He’s into all that shit.”
Flynn’s eyes sharpen as they always do when I’m giving him advice, and he nods. “That’s a good call. You think the color scheme is okay?”
“Yeah. You’re still going with the silver theme for this club?”
“Think so. I don’t want it to be tacky, but it’s a nice alternative to Jensons' gold. I can’t fucking wait for the work to be done on the place so we can start designing, it’s gonna be awesome.”
“Have you thought about when you’ll hire the manager?” I ask pointedly.
“You still don’t think you could oversee them both?” he asks, looking disappointed. “I don’t like the idea of hiring somebody outside the family.”
I shrug as my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. “I need to be on the floor wherever I work. Travelling between the clubs would take up too much time. I’m happy to help set it all up, but once it’s running, I should only manage one.”
I drag my phone out, but the number on the screen isn’t one I recognize. I assume it must be one of the new staff I haven’t met yet. They’re all given my number on day one.
“Sorry, Fly, one sec,” I say, holding up a finger. “Hello?”
“Hello, Jacqueline.”
My whole body stiffens. Flynn waves at me silently, showing he’s fine with me taking the call as he rises to leave the room, and I look up at him desperately.
“It’s okay,” I hiss at Flynn. “I want to finish this.”
