Page 29 of Black Wave

His smile widens. “That’s my cousin. Let’s grab some food now that I am here, okay?”

“I’d like that.” I put on my shoes, and we walk out of the house with an agenda.

We pull up to my favorite pizza place near my apartment, which is also close to my work, making it the perfect place for meeting up. They have a fantastic sourdough pizza crust with three hundred-plus microbrews on tap.

I walk through the door, and the bell jingles, letting the patrons and staff know about the incoming person, which so happens to be me and Adrian. I go to the table in the back, where I usually sit by myself with a book. This time, I have Adrian as my company.

Sumi immediately comes up to me and gives me a big hug. “Emma! I haven’t seen you in a couple of months, girl. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been helping a friend through a rough time, and I’ve been otherwise working. I’ve missed you too, Sumi. Oh, this is my cousin Adrian.”

She looks over at him and blushes. He puts his hand out for her to take, and she does but immediately pulls it back. The blush is now down into her neck and chest.

I save her from her embarrassment and order the usual. She takes one more look at Adrian and walks off. He chuckles when she leaves. I hit him on the shoulder. “Would you stop making my friends nervous? Geez, she was all flustered.” I glance over at the bar and see her pouring us a beer. Poor Sumi. Maybe she should drink one.

For a while, I forget about my problems with Julian and enjoy the company of my family—what’s left of it.

CHAPTER 16

Eduardo

At home, I finish reviewing contracts before it’s time to leave for the gym. I stop by the kitchen area and make myself a latte to take with me on the road. The Breville state-of-the-art touchscreen espresso machine is top-notch, beckoning me to have a tasty caffeinated beverage despite not currently wanting one. Still, I’m glad I invested in this priceless piece of morning bliss machinery.

The latte infuses straight into a to-go mug. Picking it up along with my leather messenger bag, I close and lock the door behind me to leave my ultra-modern uptown apartment home near the Galleria. The exclusive penthouse level boasts terraces and a three-bedroom light-filled floor plan with a necessary wet bar and wine chiller. The twenty-four-hour concierge with a dedicated phone line is a game changer in my line of work, where I need security and a defensible location. I walk out to my garage with private access and enter my Bently SUV. I travel a short distance to my other business—my gym.

This morning, I had an early meeting with the contractors. The project helped with branching out with a legitimate business portfolio. It is all a front, but I do enjoy the non-criminal side.Sometimes, I forget the business I am involved in—my family’s business and one I love more than I’d care to admit.

We opened this gym this past year, and it has done incredibly well. We place suggestion boxes at the entrance to improve our business and take the customers’ suggestions to heart. Helena is the front desk person, but she is also my manager. I trust her implicitly, and she sorts through the comments, looking for improvements that we can add to the betterment of this establishment.

After much feedback from the members, we have decided to accommodate their request for a nutrition station and cafe. I can’t deny that this gym would be almost perfect with that addition. I say almost perfect because I believe there is always room for improvement. Complacency is the death of any corporation; in my line of business, it could be the difference between life and death.

The gym is state-of-the-art with an indoor pool, sauna, indoor track, and all the standard gym working parts. Members will come to exercise in the morning before work and leave suggestions stating that it would be great to grab a protein shake, smoothie, or matcha before they go to work for the day. Bougie as fuck, but when you make this type of place in a prime location, the clientele demands a certain level of accommodations. I can charge up the ass for services, and they won’t even flinch in paying for it.

In fact, they tell their friends about it, and more people sign up for the membership. We are almost at max capacity and will soon offer a waiting list spot only. Fuck. When there is a waiting list, it only fuels the consumer to desire a membership here more than ever. They feel that they are missing out, and we exploit that. I am in the profession to deliver on these requests. The more services and amenities, the more their fees increase, and so forth.

Equally important to the drinks is the need for lunch. Some patrons like to work out on their lunch break. Go figure. Now, that’s dedication—something I can admire. After listening to my manager, Helena’s, suggestions, I hired someone to rent the space from us. Businesses bid for the spot, and we have much interest, but we are looking for something hot and upcoming. It needs to be perfect. It’s not the usual juice bar, vegan protein type of place.

We are holding interviews for the various small business owners vying for a chance to rent this space at one of the most popular gyms in the metro area. The lead runner-up is a small business specializing in poke bowls, superfruit bowls, smoothies, fresh pressed juices, coffee, and shots. It would meet the criteria that the gym members are looking for and the nutritional standards of serving members of a gym with high expectations such as ours. I also sample the goods and am impressed with the Hawaiian food flare. I order an ahi tuna poke bowl over white rice with avocado, cucumbers, carrots, edamame, and fresh ginger. They give me a twenty-ounce cold brew with Laird superfood brewed in-house. It is fucking amazing.

As I go over the space with another contractor and paperwork that requires my signature, I approach the front desk at the same time a woman approaches me. Initially, I notice that she has a body made for sin as I continue to peruse her voluptuous figure. She sees me appreciating her fine form and smiles seductively at me. She touches my arm with her long, pointed, manicured fingertips and trails it down my bicep and forearm. I raise my eyebrow in question to her bold moves as she leans in closer.

“I was wondering if you could show me where the locker rooms are.” She looks down at my cock and then back up at my eyes.

I look her in the eye and run my tongue over my teeth. Contemplating the offer, I turn my head to the side. This isn’t something unusual for me. She has noticed my appearance and probably my expensive watch and clothing. Gold-digging much?

Her breath hitches in anticipation of where this could go. I turn to look at the front desk. She follows the path my gaze has traveled, waiting for my next move. She probably expects me to tell Helena to cover for me so I can show her to the locker rooms.

“Helena?” The girl at the front desk looks up from her book as if she is guilty of doing something. “Would you mind showing this lady where the locker rooms are, please?” She puts her book down and walks our way. I stop her as she walks past me and whisper, “Maybe you should calm your reading down on the spicy romance books.”

She snorts. “Yeah, that won’t happen, Boss.” Having quickly regained her regular coloring, she looks at the woman and walks past her. I don’t give her another glance.

“Follow me.”

The woman follows Helena but shoots a look back at me and shakes her head back and forth before following Helena to the locker room. I am willing to bet that she knows exactly where they are. Luckily for me, that is no concern of mine. There is only one person on my mind these days, and I hope to find her.

I go to my office and pull up my social media page. I advertise the gym and the updates on the food and cafe space. We have a comment right away about the excitement over the cafe. Then, I look to my club and post updates to the various DJs headlining on the upcoming weekends. This will surely fulfill the excitement recipe for any coming-of-age raver.

Influencers and elite society compete against other VIPs to gain entrance into my club. We spare no expense to provide a thrilling environment. It offers a rollercoaster of emotions, from excitement to fear of the unknown and endless pleasure. It’s nosecret that my club boasts endless drugs to satisfy every vice the patron desires. They only need to know the secret codes to access these substances and obtain access to a bathroom to partake in the ecstasy this atmosphere enables. As long as it is discrete, we don’t care, which helps with the other side of my profession—the illegal one that is the backbone of our family’s revenue.

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