Chapter Two
Demir
I stood on top of the bar, one hand on Marco’s elbow, and he clasped my arm back to help steady us. A sizeable crowd of friends, business associates, and the locally fabulous filled the space. With the lighting up all the way, you could actually see the intricate woodwork on the paneling for once and the plush quality of the furniture that Marco had slowly filled the space with over the years.
He raised his glass in the air, and the ice clinked inside of it. “We’ll be quick,” he announced, “but we wanted to say a few words on this special night, the tenth anniversary of The Forty-Eight.”
“Yes,” I said. “And thank you all for being here! We truly couldn’t have done this without our friends.”
When the cheer died down, Marco pulled the crowd back with his smile and launched into the story.
“When we decided to buy this old loft space and open our own nightclub, all of our friends thought we were out of our damn minds. Which we were! We were young and in love, and there’s no worse reason than that for opening a business.”
Everyone laughed, and I tipped my glass to the crowd. In truth, I had been the one really pushing the idea back then. Marco had been more than happy to go along for the ride, but after my parents died, I had inherited a solid chunk of money that made me feel very complicated things. Opening the club transformed that money into something new, something real that I could build with the man I loved.
I sipped from my drink, then picked up the story. “I had a two-year degree in business from a local college, and Marco had a bachelor’s in design, but we found a way to make it work. And by hosting so many talented nightlife performers, DJs, dancers, artists, and staff over the years, The Forty-Eight has built a legacy we never dared dream possible.”
I cast my eyes across the crowd, marveling at all the people. Every word we were saying was true, and I believed it down to my core.
I just couldn’t deny the reality of running the place had turned into something much less glamorous.
Long night after long night, paperwork and administrative tasks, and endless bills.
Life in the limelight, except I had bags under my eyes, and instead of dancing, I was trying to unjam the register with a butter knife again.
“Enjoy the evening,” Marco said, lacing his fingers with mine and raising our hands in the air. “And make sure to try the cocktail Alex mixed up for the celebration! It’s not the first time this crowd has drank from the bar for free, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, either!”
Everyone laughed, and a few friends helped us down, first to the stools and then the floor. Before I had a chance to connect with Marco, to meet his blue eyes and tell him how much this all meant to me, we were each swept away, shaking hands with other people and repeating the same words of appreciation.
C’est la vie, I thought.You only get to be sentimental off the clock sometimes.
I circulated the party, catching not enough time with some people and far too much with a couple of others. Easily, though, I slipped into my role. While Marco planned the parties and events that made the place popular, I dealt with the nuts and bolts and also covered the outward relations. My boyfriend was my secret weapon, the hopelessly charming backup I could call on when things got sticky with a vendor or customer. But he hated acting like a boss, and I hated how it wore him out, so he usually hung out in the back, scheming with the DJs and party promoters while I rolled up my sleeves and talked business.
I laughed and took pictures with friends and had a nice evening, even if it was actually just work disguised as pleasure. Once midnight rolled around, I swept my boyfriend into the back, softened him with a couple minutes of kissing that spot on his neck, and then snuck him out the rear entrance. We ran down the alley for two blocks, holding hands and laughing the whole way, and then arrived at our home.
“They’ll be looking for us all night!” Marco laughed, falling against my chest. “We have to text someone to say that we left.”
I shrugged, then rubbed his shoulders. Spring was quickly becoming summer, but there was still a chill in the air at night. “It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve run off with each other. Now come on. Let’s get inside. I’m ready to actually celebrate.”
Marco considered for a moment, then caught my suggestion. “Right, inside.”
We headed up the back steps, then came in the rear door to the apartment, another loft space. Although significantly smaller than the expansive club, we’d gotten a similarly good deal because of how rundown the building was at the time of purchase. Enough time had passed, though, that renovations were officially over, and the apartment just felt like home.
We tossed aside our things, and Marco turned as he jumped up on to the granite counter. I stepped closer, and he swung his legs around my hips, pulling me in.
“You have fun tonight, Demir? Did you remember to enjoy yourself during all the work?”
“I did,” I said. “I even got to steal away to a quiet hallway for a quality fifteen minutes with the Celine sisters.”
Marco’s sparkling smile lit the loft. “I was so glad they came,” he said. “I hadn’t seen them in years.”
“How about you?” I asked, draping my hands behind his neck. He was so friendly and cheerful as a default; people often forgot to check if he was actually having a nice time.
“I managed to spend most of the evening stolen away in quiet hallways with friends, thank you very much.”
“You’re much more talented at it than I am.”
“I’ll have to teach you someday,” he teased.
