And I wasn’t ready to let her go.
“Last chance,” I said to Payton, “if you want to make a bid.”
She shook her head. “Dominic tolerates me working there, but owning the place? I don’t think so.”
“Besides, you’re having so much fun with all that freelance copy writing you’re doing.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She drank a sip of her water. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll do great as the new Joseph, and I’ll be there to help.”
Julius arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, wearing an anxious expression above his hulking form, but he relaxed a little when he spotted Payton with me. He’d always liked her, and they had a great, platonic chemistry.
“What’s going on?” he asked, and I motioned to the seat beside Payton. “Something bad happen you wanted to talk about?”
“No,” I said. “Something good. You’ve been working for me since the club opened. You know how it operates, you’ve handled the tough situations, and you always know what’s going on.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Do you want to make more money?”
“Sure. You giving me a raise?”
“A promotion.” I took a deep breath and exhaled it out. “I’d like to sell you the club.”
“Say what now?” Julius looked from me to Payton, confusion streaking his expression. I gave him a moment to see I was serious and let it sink in. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
So he was interested. Good. I pulled out a manila envelope containing the formal offer, which sold the wine club front of the business.
“I’d like to offer you a structured deal. Descending percentages of the profit going to me for the next few months as you transition in.” The paper trail would be a mile long, funneled through wine brokers and expense accounts, to offer me maximum protection if it was busted during that time.
“Take these and read them over, let me know if you have any questions.”
“Yeah,” he said instantly. “Where you going, and why not her?”
“He’s going legit,” Payton answered. “And I can’t run it because men don’t trust women who look like I do. The owner needs to be male.”
Payton made a good point, and Julius would be perfect. Men assumed Payton wasn’t smart because she was beautiful, and plenty assumed the same of Julius because he was an enormous bear of a man. Bouncers and escorts weren’t supposed to have brains, and it was a hell of an advantage.
“You and Payton together?” I said. “You two will bleed the wealthy men of Chicago dry.”
It had been a lot of fun doing that, but nothing lasted forever.
Noemi had recovered from her cold by Friday afternoon. I hadn’t seen her all week. It had been one errand after another—lawyers, banks, and the usual day-to-day with my legitimate businesses that dominated my time. She was busy too, catching up on her classes she’d missed while sick, and studying for her finals.
Our Tumblr account was . . . active. She’d been posting a lot more than five clips a day, and I teased I’d created a monster. I loved it, but my right hand was ready to blister.
Hawaii had done a number on me. For the first time since the cancer diagnosis, I could imagine a future. I’d lain in the sagging bed in the yurt, listening to the driving rain, held a sleeping Noemi, and I could picture doing it again when we returned to Chicago. After. Giving up my club would keep that future possible.
She hadn’t said those three words again since that night, not that I could blame her. But the asshole in me wanted to hear them again, and again. I needed them. Fuck, I needed her.
She answered my call right away. “Hey, you.”
“Where are you, baby girl?”
“In a cab. I’m feeling too lazy to walk to the CTA station and wait. Why, what’s up?”
“Let’s grab a quick dinner. I’d like to see you.” While that was certainly true, what I wanted to do was explain I was selling the wine club, and after this weekend when I was officially out, I’d tell her what it really was. It needed to happen before our relationship went any further.
“Oh. I’ve got a meeting with my advisor at four-thirty, and I don’t know how long that’s going to go. Plus, I still can’t breathe through my nose. I might pass out on—Shit!”