“Hmm.”
“Well, what do you think?” Darren prodded. “Can you get a meeting with Charlie? Or would you like me to handle it?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It should come from me. That’s not a guarantee they’ll do it, but I know they’re on hiatus and Charlie’s been looking for publicity opportunities. They might be willing to do an ad campaign that’ll make them money rather than spend money on Clay Kanzler’s coffee-table book or—”
Darren smacked his hand on the glass table, then flattened it over his mouth. “No! Not the bondage boy!”
I snorted in amusement. “His photos are risqué for sure, but they’re tasteful.”
“He’s not. Don’t tell me you forgot that Mr. Kanzler recorded himself screwing our bartender at Le Rouge then had the audacity to put a two-minute montage of Jack panting, ‘Oh, fuck, yes. Harder,’ on Twitter.”
I hadn’t forgotten. I’d fired Jack immediately and had hated having to do it. We had hard rules about fraternizing with clients at our clubs…especially during business hours. As for Clay, I kept an eye out.
Guys like him got thrills from pushing sleazy boundaries in their personal lives. Professionally, however, he had a great reputation. His work was tasteful and artistic. And he had the support of a few high-profile celebrities he’d featured in his Hollywood Madness book. Honestly, it made sense that Charlie would consider having Zero team up with him for promotional purposes. It was the “personal” aspect that made me wary.
“Yeah, I remember,” I sighed, filling my partners in on the proposed “date” idea I’d overheard.
“Oh, my gosh! Disaster!” Darren sprang to his feet and paced to the window. He whirled around theatrically. “We can’t use Zero if Clay gets to them first. Fix this!”
“Wait up. I can’t tell Charlie not to work with Clay. I don’t have that kind of influence with him. We have to treat it as a time-sensitive business opportunity. Once we know they’re interested, we can voice our concerns about so-called ‘faux’ personal ties with Clay.”
“This is a time-sensitive venture!” Darren shook his fist at the traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard, then at Harry and me before primly reclaiming his chair. “Cards on the table. Subterfuge is not the answer, Sean. We must be bold and forthright. Charge!”
“Calm down, calla lily. Sean’s right. There’s a process at play. He can’t barge in and make demands. He’s going to have to sell the idea,” Harry said in a rational tone. “It should be a slam dunk. And truthfully, it doesn’t matter if Zero does both the spritzy water and the coffee table crap. It’s not like they’re gonna pose nude for it.”
“True. The ‘date’ is the issue. Hey, I’ll talk to Johnny myself. He’ll understand.”
Darren and Harry shared a look…one that reminded me that while I was an equal partner in business, I was still the odd man out. They’d known each other since high school and had mastered almost fifty years’ worth of deciphering knowing glances and eye-rolls. I was a couple of steps behind. And that wouldn’t change anytime soon.
“Really? Just like that?” Darren asked dubiously.
“We’re friends and—no, it’s not like that. There’s nothing between Johnny and me. He’s going to teach Parker guitar.” I opened the document Harry sent and gestured toward my screen. “Are we ready to go over the numbers?”
“Guitar with the offspring?” Harry lowered his reading glasses.
Darren leaned forward, batting my arm with the fringe on his scarf. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
I gave a careless half shrug. “It hasn’t happened yet. If it does, it might be a one-shot deal. And it’s my kid we’re talking about. It has nothing to do with business.”
“I understand and respect that. However, it doesn’t hurt to use your connections. Especially when it’s beneficial to all.” Darren tapped his forefinger on my laptop. “Take a look at those numbers, Sean. You’ll see what I mean.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my skull. I hadn’t seen that many zeroes behind a dollar sign in any deal I’d closed in the past. And I’d closed some big ones.
“Holy shit.”
Harry chuckled at my awestruck tone. “I told you it was impressive. We need that meeting with Charlie and…you need to talk to the guitar boy.”
My brain was buzzing during the drive home later that evening. I’d spent the entire day strategizing with Harry and Darren. McMillan was definitely our best bet. We couldn’t count on everything falling neatly into place, so we’d devised a workable plan B and C, then spent hours on the phone with our lawyer going over our offer. This was prime real estate in the heart of the city. We had to secure alternate funds and be prepared to act immediately.
I sifted through our options as I slowed my Range Rover at a red light near Vibes. I’d planned to drop by the club to check in with the manager, but Garrett could handle a random Wednesday night without me butting in. I decided to take a page from Darren and Harry’s book and stop micromanaging the club. I trusted Garrett. He was young, energetic, and didn’t take shit from anyone. If he needed my input or ran into an emergency, he’d call.