Quitting isn’t an option. Another mantra she silently chanted as she moved from her desk, where she’d dropped her bag, to the break room, where she was currently
hiding.
Quitting isn’t an option. Yet another lie she told herself. Truth was, she could give notice at any time. And once that was accomplished, she could pick up the phone, call Larsen, and tell him to head over to Tommy’s swanky apartment, where Madison was hiding.
In less time than it would take for a pot of coffee to fill, Layla could effectively clear her name, quit the soul-sucking job, and get on with her life.
And yet, as simple as it seemed on the surface, deep down she knew she’d never go through with it. She’d given her word, and she’d never been one to renege on a promise.
“You’re back.”
At the sound of Ira’s voice, Layla stiffened. Then slowly, methodically, she filled her cup and prepared to face him.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon. I told H.D. you should take as much time as you need.”
Layla forced a tight grin and nervously reached for a stir stick, mostly to burn off the nervous energy Ira never failed to invoke.
Ira loomed in the doorway, looking as tall, dark, and handsome as any other Hollywood leading man. But between the slant of his gaze and Layla’s suspicions, his appearance veered much closer to villain than hero.
“I’m not really one for taking it easy,” she said. “Never have been.”
“I can relate.” Ira met her grin with one that, on the surface anyway, seemed more or less genuine. “But as it turns out, I’m glad you’re back. I have a new venture I’d very much like you to be a part of.”
Layla stuck to a neutral expression and braced for whatever came next. Ira was always promoting his brand, which in turn promoted himself. His entire empire was in service of raising his profile, securing his position of power, and adding to his already considerable wealth. His string of nightclubs had cemented his image as the nightlife czar of LA, and now, with his recently launched tequila label, his brand had been elevated to the sort of global audience Layla suspected he’d always dreamed of.
Still, as much as she made fun of him in her head, she had to admit it was a business model that did deserve a certain amount of respect. Ira had come from humble beginnings, and in a relatively short time he’d managed to make a huge name for himself. If it had been anyone else, Layla would be flattered by his interest. But where Ira was concerned, everything he did was best viewed through a scrim of suspicion.
“It’s about RED.”
Layla started. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that at first she could’ve sworn he’d said code red, which seemed a perfect fit for how she currently felt at being trapped alone in the break room with him.
“I’ve had countless offers to franchise the clubs, and while I’m not interested in relinquishing control, I am giving serious consideration to additional locations. Right now, I’m looking at the possibility of adding a Vesper in New York City, a Jewel in Chicago, a Night for Night in Miami, possibly Vegas as well. And that’s just the beginning. Of course, it’s all still in the talking and scouting stages, but when it comes to RED, I want it to be different. Something truly special.”
He paused as though waiting for her to react. Layla merely nodded for him to continue. When his left eye twitched the tiniest bit, she took it as a signal that her lack of enthusiasm had annoyed him.
“I think of RED as the crown of the Unrivaled empire. It marks the culmination of nearly two decades of work. Nineteen years ago I landed in this city and went straight to work.”
“So you’re not from here.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, and from the irritated flattening of his lips, he did not appreciate the interruption. But now that it was out there, he had no real choice but to acknowledge the statement.
“No.” His reply was curt. A second later, in a more jovial tone, he added, “Considering all the magazine articles and interviews I’ve done, I would’ve assumed you’d know that by now. Are you telling me you showed up at the interview without researching my backstory?”
Backstory. It was such a weird, Hollywood way to phrase it. It left Layla wondering if Ira’s backstory might turn out to be as fictional as Madison’s.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’d forgotten. You’re from Oklahoma, right?” She forced her gaze to remain steady. She had researched his backstory, and thanks to Trena, she now knew he’d purposely omitted the time he’d spent there. What she couldn’t figure out was if he deemed it unimportant and therefore unworthy of a mention, or if he’d intentionally left it out for other, more nefarious reasons. This might be her chance to find out.
Ira squinted. “No,” he said. “I’m not.”
Layla frowned, as though she wasn’t quite willing to give up on the idea. “Huh.” She took a sip of her coffee and studied him from over the rim of her mug. “Could’ve sworn you did a short stint at the university there.” She swallowed hard and wondered why she didn’t just shut the hell up. Instead, she did the opposite, and continued to dig the hole he’d most likely use to bury her in. “Don’t mind me.” She took another small sip. “With everything that’s been going on, my mind’s turned to mush. Tommy’s from Oklahoma, not you.” She paused for a beat, searching Ira’s face for any hint of a reaction, but Ira remained as impassive and unreadable as ever. “Anyway, what were you saying about RED being the . . . ?”
Ira stared without blinking, then went on to say, “RED is no ordinary nightclub—it’s an experience, an event. I’ve poured a great deal of money into it, more than any of my other clubs combined. It’s going to be highly unique. The first of its kind.”
Layla tried to look as though she was following, but so far it felt like a hard sell for a place she had no plans to frequent. She wished he’d just get to the point.
“There’s nothing else like it . . . ,” he continued.
She fought hard not to roll her eyes. First of its kind! Nothing else like it! And the most recent accolade: It defies description! To her ears, it all added up to nothing more than a bunch of nonsensical hype.
“I envision it as a sort of performance space.”