The Bet by Max Monroe

Friday, March 9th

Jude

“You got a minute?” I ask Ki-Ki, stepping up onto her platform as she’s cueing up her laptop and taking out all her extra equipment. Her cute pixie nose practically twitches with excitement, and I automatically grin while she nods.

I’ve never actually met anyone as happy as she is, and I’m pretty sure it’s because her parents did some sort of crossbreeding experiment with a unicorn or that Disney fairy with the tight green dress.

“I just want to go over a couple things before I do the meeting with the rest of the staff, if that’s cool.”

“You bet,” she agrees. “I’ve got a pretty standard playlist, but I can easily mix something up if you’ve got a different request.”

“No, no,” I say with a shake of my head. Ki-Ki is definitely the expert in the music department. It’s not that I don’t listen to music per se, because I do, but I’m not the guy who knows the name of every song and artist. I just vibe to whatever I vibe with at the time, be it country or rap or hip-hop or alternative or whatever. I am a musical chameleon. “I trust your style. I just wanted to talk about volume levels, really. Tonight is a little different from our normal heavy hit, you know? Early on, we need to meter the volume down so that conversation is discernible.”

She nods and gives me a thumbs-up, flicking her wrist on her soundboard and then clicking a couple of keys on her laptop. Immediately, a smooth beat picks up at probably half our normal volume.

It’s mood-influencing—in a good way, of course—but not overpowering. “That’s perfect, Keeks.”

She smiles huge and clicks off the beat. “So, I’ll just run this for the first hour or two, and then as the atmosphere picks up, so will the volume. Cool?”

I lean forward and place a quick peck on her cheek, making her giggle. Our relationship is platonic in every way, but we just get along. I like seeing her happy, and she feels the same.

“They say you’re the best for a reason,” I continue with a wink, climbing down from the platform and taking off for the kitchen staff. We’ve got two extra waitresses tonight, all because we’ve taken on the task of adding food. On normal nights, we don’t bother trying to accommodate anything other than fluids, but on the private side, we’re all about catering to a client’s every whim.

That, of course, means we have to show the people who are most likely to bring the clients here that we have the capability.

I round the corner into the kitchen, which is wild with activity, and scoot past the waitstaff meeting currently underway with our head floor manager, Dave. While I’m in charge of getting the people here, Dave is more in charge of making sure we have the means to get them all served.

I do a quick scan of the extravagant setup provided by my brother-in-law Wes Lancaster’s restaurant, BAD, but I’m completely surprised to see the devil himself walk in through the back door, carrying a tray of food.

His eyes flick up and catch mine, and I can’t help but make the quick trek across the kitchen to give him a hard time.

“Hey, bro, what are you doing here? I thought you billionaire types had, like, servants for this shit?”

Wes shakes his head and chuckles, and I slap him on the shoulder lovingly. I have to admit that when he and my sister first got together, I was a little worried he was always going to be a bit too uptight for my taste. But after a couple of years with him in the family, I’ve come to know better.

Sure, he can still be a little moody and a touch serious, but he’s also pretty fucking funny, and beyond all that, he’s the kind of man my sister needs and deserves. Plus, even though Lexi isn’t his biological daughter, he loves my niece like she’s his own—with his whole, wealthy heart. Anything she wants, she gets. Anything she needs, he does.

I’ll probably never stop giving him shit, but down deep, I’m Wes Lancaster’s number one fan.

“We aren’t all just content to coast through life without actually working like you, you know?”

I scoff through a chuckle. “Bro, I’m at work right now. You need to work on your comebacks. Lexi can teach you.”

He flips me off, and I laugh. “Seriously, though. Thanks for catering. I’m really hoping this is beneficial for both of us.”

Wes claps my shoulder and squeezes. “No problem, man. Glad to do it. Though, after the stunt you pulled on Wednesday, my wife almost made me write you off altogether. Told me to let you hang.”

I chuckle. “No way. My baby sister loves me.”

“Normally, yes. When you invite yourself over and show up without permission? Not so much.”

“Come on,” I challenge. “We had a great time, didn’t we?”

“I’ve endured worse.”

“Exactly!”

Wes laughs. “All right, man. I’m gonna take off. If you have any problems, though, you can call or text.”

“Thanks, bud.”

Wes nods. “I hope it goes well for you.”

“Me too,” I admit. “You really never can tell.”

Without much further ado, Wes leaves out the same door he came, and I snap back into work mode. All the guests will be arriving momentarily, and it’s my job to make sure we’re ready.

Music thick and bodies thicker, Club Craze is officially jamming tonight, and after a couple hours of formalities, the world’s most elite private event planners are letting their hair down in a major way.

Men and women intertwine on the dance floor, bodies grinding like they don’t have any lives outside of these walls, much less a wife in Minneapolis.

The energy makes me smile, and Ki-Ki gives me a thumbs-up through the window of the office over her back shoulder while she jams. I’m not entirely sure how she knows I’m in here watching without turning around, but I’d wager that she knows if I’m not out there, this is where I am.

Dancers gyrate in the cages above the floor, and neon lights strobe like ribbons in the wind. All in all, I couldn’t be happier with the way things are going so far. I’ve had two immediate bookings and forty-seven commitments of interest. At the rate it’s going, Club Craze could end up doing more private events than public.

Scanning the crowd at large, I plot out my next schmooze strategically, looking for someone who looks particularly open to persuasion, and lock on to a woman in her forties, who’s bent over backward on the dance floor doing a shot of hard liquor. I smile to myself and shift my weight toward the door of the office, ready to pounce, when another woman in a blood-red dress catches my eye through the masses.

Long, sleek limbs, silky dark hair, and the kind of features that could stand out on a pitch-dark night, Sophie Sage is unmistakable.

My eyes know her, and my body certainly remembers her.

Can’t seem to forget about her, actually.

I wasn’t in charge of the invitations—one of the assistants in my promotional firm was—but damn if I don’t get one hell of a thrill out of the coincidence that Sophie was part of the list.

She did mention that she’s an event planner on our date, but I didn’t connect the dots to this event.

I smile. Tonight’s shaping up to be even better than I thought it’d be.

After one last, long look at Sophie, I tear my eyes away from her wildly sexy body and stunning face and make myself re-home in on my original target. Because the fact remains that I have a job to do tonight, first and foremost, and then I can move on to pleasure.

For now, I’ll keep an eye on the lady in red and repeat to myself that good things come to those who wait.