Chapter 6
Bruno approached the front of NV Lounge, a hot new night spot in the Atlanta area. Their motto was “NV Lounge, where every night is a night to remember.”
He didn’t typically frequent these types of places, but his sister’s fiancé—Andre Campos—opened the venue months ago, and Bruno had promised Monica he’d stop by.
When he had told Marissa that his family was close, he hadn’t been kidding. They were tight-knit, sharing in each other’s failures and successes, investing in each other’s businesses, and generally serving as confidants. Since Andre was going to be a part of their circle soon, he received the same support they all did.
NV Lounge was built in a renovated warehouse in an up-and-coming part of town where businesses were cropping up to accommodate the influx of residents buying the luxury condominiums and renting the stylish apartments being built in the area.
There were two entrances into the venue. One for the regular customers and another for VIPs. The regular line trailed down the side of the building with dozens of mostly Black men and women in their twenties and thirties. No one stood outside the VIP entrance, but a buff man dressed in a dark suit with pinstripes and a black shirt underneath blocked anyone from entering. He wore sunglasses and held his beefy arms crossed over his chest in an intimidating stance.
Bruno approached and pulled the purple and black VIP card his sister had given him from his wallet.
“Hello, sir,” the bouncer said, taking the card.
“Hello,” Bruno replied.
The bouncer unclipped a small gadget from his hip and scanned the code at the back of the card. When the device beeped, he handed it back and stepped aside.
“Have a good night.”
Bruno walked onto the main floor where the sound of thumping music greeted him above the hum of conversations. The place was packed, with standing room only and guests crowded around gleaming wood tables. Gyrating bodies moved on the dance floor in front of a crowded DJ booth that also contained dancing people. Waitresses dressed in vests and ties carried multi-colored drinks on small trays as they circulated among the crowd.
Edging his way along the perimeter, Bruno circled past the back-to-back bars in the middle toward a neon sign announcing the hookah bar at the rear of the space. He veered toward a staircase leading to the mezzanine level where a second large man in a dark suit stood guard before the VIP section.
Bruno showed his card, which the new bouncer once again scanned before stepping aside. He climbed the few steps to the raised platform and bypassed two other sections before he saw his sister, Monica.
Tall and slender with a russet-brown complexion and her Afro hair cut short in a buzz cut, tonight she wore platform heels and a mini-dress as colorful as her big personality.
With her ever-present phone in hand, she was apparently in the middle of a live stream, her back to the floor below as she gave the people watching a view of what they were missing. Monica was a social media influencer with millions of followers and used her platform to help her fiancé promote NV Lounge. She had also convinced several family members to help with the publicity.
One night, Ignacio had stopped in with his entourage and several actor friends. He signed autographs, took photos, and danced with a few of the ladies. Tonight, their brother-in-law, Damon was supposed to come by. A former Atlanta Brave, he retired from playing baseball years ago.
The minute Monica saw Bruno, her chestnut eyes brightened and the grin on her face widened.
“That’s all for now. Get your asses down here. Tah-tah, bitches.” She threw up the peace sign and ended the live stream.
Rushing over, she threw her arms around Bruno’s neck. “Thank you for coming!”
Bruno hugged his sister tight. “I promised you I would.”
He’d long ago stopped placing the word “step” in front of words related to his family. Their bond wasn’t defined by genetics, but by the many moments of laughter, tears, and shared experiences over the years. Blood could not have made their connection and love any deeper.
“Where is Andre?” he asked.
“He had an emergency in the kitchen,” Monica replied. “One of the ovens malfunctioned or something? I’m not really sure about the details, but he rushed in there to see what was wrong and figure out how to fix the problem.”
Bruno nodded. He’d been there. Equipment failure was an unfortunate part of running a kitchen. “Let him know if he needs my help, I’m here.”
“Will do.” Monica fired off a text and then looped her arm through her brother’s. “You should have seen this place before the renovations. Debris everywhere and boarded-up windows. A mess! Look at it now. What do you think?” Her gaze swept the crowd.
“It’s not really my scene, but I’m impressed.”
“You’d probably enjoy the top floor better. That’s where the restaurant is, encased in glass and quieter. There’s a staircase and elevator in the back that takes you up there. See the catwalk?” She pointed above them. “It connects the restaurant and the offices, although you can get to the offices from stairs in the front right corner, but you can’t see them from here.”
“What’s down there?” Bruno pointed to an area to the right of the bars where curtains were connected to the high ceiling by wires. Several of the curtains were closed.
“A way to give people privacy. VIP without being VIP, which might be a problem. The other night, one of the servers interrupted a couple having sex in there.”
Monica shook her head and Bruno chuckled.
“Have you been here every night?”
“No, but almost. With the publicity and advertising, the crowd gets bigger every week.”
“There’s a line outside,” Bruno remarked.
“I know, isn’t it amazing! That started last week. I’m so proud of Andre.”
The DJ’s voice carried over the thumping music. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we have a treat for you tonight. Former Atlanta Braves baseball player Damon Foster is in the building. Make some noise!”
Cries of excitement went up from the crowd as they turned this way and that in search of Damon. He threw a hand up and waved, and the minute people saw where he was, they crowded around him.
Audra, Bruno’s other sister and Damon’s wife, was right beside him. She extricated herself from the crush of fans and made her way toward the VIP section.
She turned surprised eyes on her brother. “You got Bruno to come here?” she asked Monica.
The lifestyle blogger and stay-at-home mom was petite and thick, a striking contrast to Monica’s model-like physique. She and Damon had gone through a rough patch a while back, but their marriage was back on track. They recently adopted a little boy and little girl to expand their family of five to a family of seven.
He chuckled at her dig. “This is an energetic crowd, and I’m impressed.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” asked a server, holding a round tray.
“What’s one of the signature drinks here?” Audra asked.
Monica answered. “Get one of the chocolate martinis. They are delicious.”
“I’ll take that,” Audra said.
“I’ll have a beer. Corona,” Bruno said.
“Anything for you, Monica?” the waitress asked.
“Not right now. I’m good.”
The young woman disappeared.
“What’s the latest on the licensing deal? Have you made much progress?” Audra asked.
Bruno had earned nineteen Michelin stars across his restaurants, but he hardly cooked anymore. He took a step back recently to become more involved in Santana Foods, the company he’d built over the years. A manufacturer out of Pennsylvania had asked him to lend his name to a line of spices, sauces, dressings, and marinades to be sold in grocery stores across the country.
Besides adding to his bottom line, the deal could put him in the coveted position of the wealthiest chef in the world. He’d held the position before but had been overtaken several years ago by Alan Wong, who at one time had been a personal chef to President Obama and was currently the richest chef in the world.
He and Bruno had been in a good-natured rivalry since then, and this new line should help him surpass the Japanese-born chef.
While excited about the opportunity, this particular venture had been in the works for over a year because of his strict requirements for only using the best ingredients. Which meant he needed to know where the herbs and vegetables for the line were sourced. There had also been other problems along the way which had caused delays. Executive turnover at the manufacturer, and he refused to compromise on his vision for the line.
“We’re working on the details,” Bruno answered.
“I’m sure you’ll get them straightened out. What’s the plan if you can’t get Post-Praft Foods to accept your terms?”
“Then we look elsewhere. I refuse to compromise on the quality of my products.”
The server returned with their drinks, and Bruno sipped his beer as he continued the conversation with his sisters. While they talked, Damon joined them in the VIP. Chocolate-skinned with a bearded jawline and diamond studs in his ears, he had parlayed his good looks and athletic physique into a post-baseball modeling career.
“Damn, this is nice. Great crowd,” he said to Monica, as he slipped an arm around Audra.
“Thanks. NV is getting more and more popular, and a lot of people who used to go to Midnight Lounge come here now.”
Midnight Lounge was the establishment Andre previously worked for before he had a falling out with the owner.
Bruno’s eyes swept the crowd below, and his gaze landed on a woman who’d just entered. He couldn’t see her face because her thick, shoulder length hair hid her features, but he fixed with laser-like precision on the ripeness of her shape in a shimmery gold top. All hips, breasts, and ass. She moved through the crowd as if searching for someone.
He sipped his beer. He was looking for a wife, but in the meantime, maybe this lovely creature could?—
Dropping out of the conversation with his family, he leaned forward on the steel railing and zeroed in on the person below.
Was that…?
Yes, it was. Marissa Liburd.
He felt a warm tug in his gut, right below his navel.
She looked different from when he saw her yesterday. Yesterday she had been buttoned up in a long-sleeved blouse with glasses and her hair in a bun. Tonight, she wore a shimmery gold sleeveless top, the cowl neck dipping in a provocative way over her breasts. No glasses, and her hair was loose and parted on the side, hiding part of her face. Large gold hoops peeked between the strands. Quite a difference from the day before.
“Earth to Bruno.” Monica snapped her fingers in front of his face. “What has you so distracted?” She looked in the same direction.
“I see someone I know.”
“Who?”
Marissa slipped between the sea of bodies, and his eyes followed her. As she looked around, he once again got the impression that she was searching for someone.
He’d go down there and say hi.
“No one you know. I’ll be right back.”
Bruno placed his beer on a table and headed out of the VIP.