2. Sterling
2
STERLING
“This isn’t a fucking charity. What the hell do they expect?”
I lean back in my seat and smile at Sullivan’s outburst.
He casts his gaze across the low-lit room to where the pianist, Vincent, is practicing on the stage. He takes in measured breaths, flexing his fingers against the velvet armrests of his chair.
The staff hustle around us. This evening, my club, Seasons, will be crammed like a subway in rush hour with New York’s top everything—lawyers, politicians, doctors, CEOs—all seeking escape.
Fridays are always busy. People work and work, then look back at their week, wondering how they forgot to live, how they forgot to breathe. Then they come here and leave their worries at the door. No one cares who you are or how much money you make here. What mistakes you’ve made. What regrets you have.
Seasons doesn’t ask questions.
“They’ll not expect to continue doing business with you on their proposed new terms, that’s for sure.” I chuckle as I steeple my hands beneath my chin, my attention fixed on my eldest son.
Mal looks between the two of us, his face clouded in concern. Sullivan’s been running Beaufort Diamonds for two years now. He knows exactly what he’s doing. My son doesn’t agree to anything unless he’s certain it’s the best for the business. Mal knows this.
“Go back and tell them my original offer stands. If they even attempt to ask me to increase it again, they can kiss goodbye to their contract. We’ll source someone else.”
Mal’s face turns gray, his eyes meeting mine with uncertainty. He got the same response last time. Why he thought Sullivan might yield if he broached the subject again is beyond me.
But hey, at least it’s amusing watching my son and his uncle butt heads.
I shake my head with a smile.
“Sullivan’s right. I’d do the same thing. You let them think they can negotiate terms with us when there’s a line of people who’ll happily take their place, and before you know it, they’ll be demanding something else. We pay them well for their services, more than they’d get elsewhere. Don’t let them mistake our generosity for weakness. If they want to find a contract with another firm, let them be our guest. They’ll realize what they lost when it’s too late.”
“Fine,” Mal huffs.
He’s been overseeing Africa for us for years, liaising with the company who arrange the diamonds from our mines in Botswana to be certified and shipped to the US. But from time to time, they get greedy.
Mal’s made the mistake of befriending the owner, a guy called Ade, and holidaying at their lodge with his wife, Trudy, and Ade’s wife, Sammy.
Number one rule in business—no one is your friend.
“You’re a couple of assholes,” Mal mutters.
Sullivan’s demeanor softens, and he shoves his uncle playfully in the shoulder.
“Nah, we’re a trio of assholes. But that’s why we’re the most globally recognized jewelry brand who get commissioned to make royalty’s crown jewels. Maybe remind that fucker of that next time you’re snuggled up beside him in the back of his jeep trying to spot warthogs.” Sullivan’s eyes gleam with mirth as Mal shakes his head with a muttered curse.
“He’s got you there.” I smirk.
Mal flips me off.
“We done?” My son’s eyes meet mine.
I nod.
He checks his watch as he stands, buttoning up his suit jacket. “Good. I need to make some calls and pick up Molly. Catch you later, Dad. Always a pleasure, Uncle.” He squeezes Mal’s shoulder, making him chuckle in defeat.
“Likewise.”
“Son?” I call before he gets to the door. “You heard from Sinclair today?”
My daughter calls me every day. But it’s mid-afternoon and I haven’t heard from her yet.
My phone rings, her smiling face lighting up the screen with her picture. “Never mind.” I wave him off as I hit accept.
“You okay, Sweetheart?”
“Dad!”
Her voice brims with excitement, making my chest swell. Twenty-three years old and she’s still my little girl, no matter how much she tries to tell me otherwise.
“What are you doing?” I ask, nodding at the bartender as he comes to refill our glasses with brandy.
“I’m on Fifth picking up something. I have a surprise for you!”
I chuckle. “Did Monty get hired to do his own calendar again?”
“No, this is even better.” She sounds breathless as if she’s rushing. “We’ll be at your place in half an hour? You’ll be home?”
I look at Mal, sipping on his brandy as he watches Vincent rehearse on the stage.
“If you need me there, then that’s where I’ll be.”
“Thank you,” she squeals. “You’re going to love it.”
“Mm-hm.”
I hang up with a smile. Whatever makes my daughter sound happy and carefree gets my automatic approval. Diamond dog collars, crystal covered cars, her own penthouse on Park, even when I said she could live with me as long as she wanted to.
Anything that makes the nights I stayed up holding her as she fell apart with grief in my arms fade into a distant memory is fine with me.
“I’ve got to go,” I announce, leaving my second brandy untouched. “Sinclair has something to show me at my house. See you tonight for dinner?”
“Sure.” Mal lifts his drink. “Trudy and I will meet you at the restaurant.”
I relay some quick plans with the club’s manager on duty as I leave.
My driver’s waiting for me as I exit. I look up at the green canopy over the doorway of the club as I slide into the cool leather interior of the car.
It’s easy to lose track of time inside Seasons. Like an animal in hibernation, safely nestled inside its warm embrace. A place where the outside world doesn’t exist if you don’t want it to.
A place to forget what pain feels like.
It started as a small dream. A sanctuary. But two years ago, when things changed, I needed it more than ever. And so did others. What was once one private member’s only club, has expanded into five exclusive, invitation-only places of solitude for those searching for peace inside its walls. New York, LA, Chicago, Hong Kong, and Sydney. And that’s only the beginning. Plans are being drawn up for two new premises, with more to come.
Seasons kept me going. Loving me back when I needed it.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, urging the familiar gnawing pull in my gut away.
“Let’s go,” I signal my driver. “My daughter will be waiting.”