Page 90 of The Winslow Brothers

A little before eight in the evening, I walk down the marble staircase that leads into The Champagne Bar. The room is calm and quiet, and besides the chatter from the Monday night regulars and occasional wealthy guests blowing through town for the evening, only the soft cadence of classical music can be heard in the background.

I make a mental note that the massive space is only half filled and grin to myself.Oh yeah,the atmosphere is ripe with the slow and anticipatory vibe I wanted when I told Sophie to meet me here.

This bar isn’t my usual place, but more of an occasional, every-great-once-in-a-while place that is a well-known and iconic New York spot inside the Plaza Hotel. Anyone who is anyone in this city has been inside these walls and experienced the sophisticated ambiance that is floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted by thick, luxurious curtains and large crystal chandeliers providing the right amount of lighting to keep guests feeling cozy without understanding why.

It’s also the perfect place to show Sophie how good being bad can feel.

I sit down at the mostly empty bar and pull my phone out of my suit pocket, setting it on the marble surface in front of me.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” the bartender asks, and I offer a small smile.

“A scotch on the rocks. Thanks.”

He makes quick work of my drink, and once he sets it down in front of me, the bartender moves on to a new customer who just found a seat at the far end.

After a quick sip of chilled scotch, I grab my cell to check emails and to make sure I didn’t miss any text messages. Inside my inbox sits confirmation from my assistant Macy regarding a consulting gig in Las Vegas for a nightclub called Electric. It hasn’t opened yet, but it will be nestled inside a popular casino on the Strip, and the investors are hoping to have their first soft opening eight months from now.

A lofty fucking goal, but not unachievable.

And this kind of project, where I’m simply consulting, isn’t as hands-on as what I’ve been doing at Club Craze. Instead of being there in person and juggling all the things, I’m the go-to guy when it comes to creating the plan of how to properly kick off and promote their nightclub. If I agree to work with them, they’ll tell me their strategy and I’ll tell them what they’re doing right, wrong, and give them fresh ideas to add an edge to their launch.

Basically, they’d be paying me to optimize their blueprints and give them my expert advice on everything from staff, setup, music, drinks, food menus, security, marketing, advertising, and the like.

To be honest, it’s a fairly cushy gig that always pays really well.

I quickly scan the email for all the pertinent details.

Yo Boss,

Everything is set for this week. There’ll be a private plane for you at Teterboro, and it’s scheduled to leave at midnight on Wednesday. A penthouse suite will accommodate your stay in Vegas, and because Billy and the rest of the investors are thankful for your last-minute trip (aka doing everything in their power to kiss your ass so you agree to help them), they’ve added a few extra goodies to show their thanks.

One goodie I’m certain you’re going to love includes $20,000 in casino credit to satisfy your ongoing gambling addiction.

I pause and laugh to myself when I read her last comment.

Pretty sure it’s not considered gambling when I only take bets I’m sure of, Mace.

Macy has been my assistant for the past five years, the woman behind the scenes who keeps my schedule in order and ensures everyone who is supposed to get paid or is supposed to pay does exactly that, and her use of sarcasm knows no bounds. Honestly, it’s one of the things that made me hire her in the first place, and at this point, I’d be disappointed if she sent an email without some kind of sarcastic jab.

She keeps shit entertaining, and it’s a well-known fact that I like to be entertained.

The email goes on to mention several other comps the investors are sending my way, including the fact that if I want to bring a few guests out for my stay, they’d be happy to accommodate.

And Macy doesn’t hesitate to add her teasing two cents to that update.

I’d like to take this time to remind you that it’s not a good idea for you to bring a plane full of women to Vegas. Pretty sure we both know how that ends. And it’s not good. It’s actually a huge pain in my ass trying to fly rando women back to New York on commercial flights.

In my defense, I’ve only done that once. Over four years ago. And it was enough of a clusterfuck that I vowed to never do shit like that again.

I might be a noncommitment kind of guy, but these days, I prefer one woman at a time, thank you very much. Threesomes and crazy shit like that are only fun when you’re dumb and in your twenties. Once you hit your thirties, you realize they’re more of a hassle—and a fucking mess—than anything else.

Also, I can’t denythis emailshows the glory in doing what I do. Most jobs don’t include free casino credit to play blackjack and craps and generous offers of accommodating extra guests.

I quickly shoot Macy a short response—letting her know she’s a smartass and I saw her email—and then I move on to my text messages, where I find a bunch of random chatter from my brothers in our ongoing group chat.

Before I read whatever bullshit they’re spinning this evening, I steal a quick glance toward the staircase. I have no idea if SophieSage is going to follow through with herOkayto meet me here, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Truthfully, she’s a bit of a conundrum.

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