No Strings

“I don’t know. Let me think about it. I’ll interview with your brother tomorrow and let you know.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “I want to beg, but I know this has to be your decision. If you need anything, call me. I’ll just be over here pricking my Lois and Neil voodoo dolls with needles.”

I laugh as we hang up, totally imagining her doing just that, and then once it’s quiet, I stare at my phone for a moment. Could I really do it? Move to New York? Tennessee is all I’ve ever known. It’s where I’ve lived my entire life… but at the same time, what life have I actually lived?

My screen flashes with a notification I missed while I was on the phone. I click on it, and it takes me to a post. It must be the one Brianne was talking about. It’s a picture of Lois’s ring finger with a big rock on it, and in the caption, it reads: It’s official! Neil and I are engaged! #longtimecoming

I exit out of the post and shoot a text to Brianne.

Me: If your brother thinks I’ll be a good fit, I’m in.

Then I pull my ring off my finger. Wonder how much I can pawn this for?

Chapter One

Benjamin

On most mornings, my eyes open before the alarm goes off. I look over at my phone and see it’s 5:59 a.m. Before it changes to six o’clock, I quickly switch off my alarm, preventing me from being forced to listen to the ridiculous loud buzzing sound. I’m not even sure why I set it since my brain and body know I wake up every morning at six.

Getting out of bed, I head to the bathroom to begin my daily routine. After I take a quick piss and brush my teeth, I wake Brody to get ready for his first day of school. Once I know he’s half-awake, I throw on my workout clothes and head down to the gym located on the basement level of the building where I live.

I enter the gym and grab a towel from the rack to wipe down the treadmill. Then I click on the television to watch the morning news on the big screen in front of me as I start my warm-up. Before I step it up to a run, I check my emails. How is it possible I already have forty-six new emails? I checked them before I went to bed not even three hours ago. Exhaustion sets in when I think about my lack of sleep. I always say I’m going to go to bed earlier, but then insomnia keeps me awake. Before I know it, it’s after three in the morning, and I’m prying my eyes from my laptop and forcing myself to get a few hours of shut-eye.

Scrolling through the emails, I see one from my sister with Valentine’s Day on the subject line. I click it open and quickly skim through it, noting it’s about the upcoming event happening at Lush—the restaurants/nightclubs I own. Next month is Valentine’s Day, and since Amalia oversees all the events for my clubs, she’s planning a big event to celebrate the holiday. I notice my on-site managers are copied in the email, so I ignore it, clicking on the next one. It’s from Moti, the assistant manager at the Las Vegas location, asking about the food and beverage report. Some numbers aren’t adding up, and he’d like to seek clarification. He’s emailed my dad, who is the accounting manager, but hasn’t heard back… Weird. My dad’s always on top of his shit. I forward the email to my dad, then put my phone back into my pocket. I’ll deal with the rest later.

The biggest hurdle I’ve had to overcome in the past fifteen years since I bought my first club is delegating and trusting that they’ll do their job right. I’m a firm believer that if you want something done right, you do it your damn self, so letting go of the reins has been challenging. While I’m justified in my need to manage everything myself—the mother of my son handling the birth control herself, only to lie and get pregnant, as just one example—I also understand the other side of it. When you own a half dozen nightclubs and restaurants, it’s impossible to control every detail. I can’t be everywhere at once, especially not now.

Increasing the speed on the treadmill, I bring myself to a steady pace of nine miles per hour while I get lost in the news, trying to block out the shit running through my mind. I have a meeting with Lucas, my best friend and architect, this morning before he takes off on a business trip to discuss the property I recently acquired as a gift to my sister and her new husband. Gerald is a fabulous chef and hopes to open a French restaurant. Only it’ll have a twist. Since my sister loves art, she wants to attach a gallery to it and call it Artfully Delicious. I think the concept is brilliant and will do well here, so I’m meeting with everyone to go over the plans.