6. Isabella
Ithad been a week and a half since I started working at the PrismSociety, and each shift peeled back another layer of the city’s nocturnal charisma. It was a different NewYork than the one bathed in sunlight, with its own rhythm and secrets—one I was becoming part of in ways I never expected.
However, if there was one skill I had perfected over my years as both a NewYorker and a globe-trotter, it was the uncanny ability to suss out the best hole-in-the-wall eateries. The grungier the fa?ade, the more tantalizing the food.
That’swhy I found myself audibly groaning as I picked up the plastic sack, which was emitting a strong garlic smell, off the sidewalk in front of the side door at 3 a.m. After my first few shifts at the PrismSociety, I had clocked out and headed home as the last member left. Max had never asked me to stay behind, and he seemed content to close down all by himself.
Butas I lay in bed, night after night, still awake at four in the morning, I decided to try something different tonight. I was always starving when I got home and had pent-up energy from hustling around the club all night that I needed to get out of my system. Even busting out my yoga mat at 4:15 this morning hadn’t helped put me to sleep.
Sotonight, after a week and a half of leaving as soon as the lights came on, I was mixing it up. There’s no way Max would turn down dinner that smelled this good. I heaped giant scoops of garlic chicken, sauteed vegetables, and rice on paper plates I’d found in the back office. I slipped off my wedges and carried the plates out into the lounge, where I expected to find Max.
AsI rounded the corner, the melancholic chords of SomethingCorporate’s “Konstantine” echoed through the lounge. Max was standing there, clipboard in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, passionately belting out the lyrics with his eyes closed.
“It’s to JimmyEatWorld and those nights in my car . . .”
Caughtoff guard, I snorted out a laugh, the plates wobbling dangerously in my hands.
Max’seyes snapped open, the bottle of wine almost slipping from his grasp as he twirled around. He wore a comically horrified expression as he caught sight of me, trying to catch his breath.
“Holy shit! I thought you left!” he exclaimed, clutching a hand to his chest.
Icouldn’t help but smirk. “Honestly, didn’t think you’d be the ‘emo-kid-at-heart’ type. Your scream-singing to SomethingCorporate was pretty spot-on.”
Hereddened slightly, trying to regain his composure. “It helps with the inventory checks. Sort of a stress release, you know? And, for your information, ‘emo-kid-at-heart’ happens to be a very accurate description. ButI didn’t expect you to know that song,” Max replied.
“What, did you expect me to only know the music they play at Pacha?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
Maxheld his arms up in defense, a kitchen towel dangling from one hand, but said nothing.
Smirking, I held up the plates, the strong aroma filling the air. “I come bearing food from places with questionable exteriors and unparalleled culinary prowess. Care to join?” I asked.
Hiseyes lit up, looking grateful for the food, and Max nodded. “Hell, with a sales pitch like that, how could I refuse?”
“So,” I started, as I gently blew on a steaming piece of garlic chicken, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you ever think you’d end up working at a sex club?”
Maxchuckled as he scooped some food on his fork. “Definitely not. Mostly because what I had in my head as a ‘sex club’ was a whole heck of a lot dirtier than here.”
“And stickier,” I added.
Alaugh, deep and infectious, came from Max and it made me smile. “Yes, definitely stickier. It was a bit of an adjustment at first, for sure. My mom and sisters really don’t understand it. But once you hear the purpose of this place from your brother or Liam, something changes.”
“Yeah, it’s weird feeling proud of my brother for owning a sex club. But you’re right . . . there’s something different about this place,” I said.
“They’re wanting to expand, you know,” Max said between a bite of chicken, “to other clubs.”
Iraised my eyebrows in question. “Really? Hmm. Okay, I have another question for you.”
“Shoot, I’m all ears,” Max said.
“Are you setting out to be the youngest AdvancedSommelier in the world?” I asked.
Maxlooked up at me as he leaned against the back of the bar with his plate in his hand. “Do you know much about the sommelier programs?”
Ishrugged. “I’ve chatted with enough sommeliers all over Europe. I know it’s crazy hard to do and there aren’t that many young people who make it through the highest levels.”
Somethingodd flickered in Max’s eyes before he answered. “Yeah, it is crazy hard. I think there might be a young guy from Japan who made it to the Master level, but I’d be the next youngest for sure. But that test has a massive fail rate so who knows.” He glanced down at his plate, mixing some rice in with the sauce.
“Well, maybe I can help you study, you know, like flashcards or something,” I said. “You did really well at the tasting last week. I don’t think our guests would have guessed that you were panicking just a couple of hours before they got here.”
“You were a big help with that, you know,” Max said. “Your brother did say that the Whitfields specifically called to rave about it and asked if we were going to host more.” He let out a huge breath.
“You seem overwhelmed,” I commented.
“It’s just a lot of details I’ll need to work out on top of everything else. I have this idea of partnering with lesser-known growers across the globe.” Max’s face lit up as he spoke. “I know we have great ones in our vendor list already, but they’re established and doing well. There are a lot of growers out there that haven’t been discovered yet or been given a chance because they’re so small. I want to introduce our guests who have really deep pockets to new sources.”
Ismiled. “You have a good heart, Max.”
Heshrugged. “I just know what it feels like for someone to take a chance on you, and I know how important it is to have someone believe in you. Especially when most people expect you to fail.”
Myeyes turned soft as they held Max’s. There was something under the surface of this man I was itching to figure out.
“But doing that,” Max continued, “means a lot more events that I just don’t have the bandwidth to organize right now.”
Myface lit up. “Well . . . Ilove planning events! CanI help you? Let me help! We could do cute invitations. Oh, they could be designed like little tasting menus where people could pencil in their RSVP. Oh, and I can get some chocolates from this cute little dessert place over by my parents’. People could use it as a palate cleanser.”
Iwas bursting with ideas for this event I hadn’t even been invited to, let alone asked to help with, but Max was smiling when he said, “Yeah, of course, you can help. I’d really appreciate that.”
“Sorry for the overzealousness.” I bit my lip nervously, slightly embarrassed at my high energy around the event. “My parents used to have me be their little party planner whenever they’d have friends over. I’d make it into this huge ordeal with hand-drawn menus and invitations and I’d decorate the living room or set the dining room to match the theme.” I found myself lost in thought at how my parents indulged me. “It was a lot of fun.”
“Well, I could use all the help I could get, so please feel free to take over,” Max said as he grabbed our empty plates and tossed them in the trash, pulling up the drawstrings of the bag to toss it. “I might know a thing or two about tannins and up-and-coming growers, but I know nothing about event planning.
“Events like these,” Max said with a weary smile, “they need a personal touch, something to make them memorable. A theme that ties it all together.”
Itapped a finger against my lips, already visualizing the possibilities. “How about a ‘Journey through the Vines’ theme? We could take our guests on a sensory trip to different vineyards with each tasting.” My mind raced with details—invitations designed like vintage postcards, table settings that mirrored the rustic charm of a vineyard, maybe even a bit of live music to set the ambiance.
Max’ssmile broadened as he leaned on the bar, clearly intrigued by the concept. “I love that. It’s perfect—elegant but still relaxed. And the vineyard vibe is totally on-brand for us.”
“Great! I can curate a selection of chocolates that pair well with each wine,” I continued, my enthusiasm bubbling over. “I know a great local chocolatier. That way we can keep the whole experience authentic and boutique.”
Henodded, his eyes shining with gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver, Isabella. This is why you’re perfect for this.”
Flatteredby the trust he was placing in me, I couldn’t help but blush. “I just want to create an experience that feels intimate, even if it’s in the middle of NewYorkCity. Maybe some string lights, gentle music—nothing too loud, just . . . something that enhances the wine.”
Maxtossed the trash bag into the bin and wiped down the bar one last time. “A month, then,” he said, looking at me with a nod that sealed our informal agreement. “We can iron out the specifics over the next few days, but I trust your vision, Isabella.”
Arush of warmth spread through me at his words. “Then it’s set, Boss,” I said as I gave him a mini salute.
AsI busied myself collecting the last of the glasses, I felt a new sense of purpose. I had always loved organizing these little gatherings for my parents’ friends, transforming their spaces into themed wonderlands. But this was different—this was mine to lead, and the prospect was both thrilling and a touch daunting.
Maxrinsed the glasses, his movements methodical, as Panic at the Disco continued to play in the background. By four in the morning, the weight of the day settled into my bones, but the excitement for what was to come kept the fatigue at bay. FindingMax buried in his wine notes in the back office, I knew we were both gearing up for a busy month ahead, but with a shared goal now in sight.
“I’m gonna head out if that’s okay,” I said as I tapped my knuckles on the doorframe. Max’s hair was in disarray, and he had glasses pushed up on the bridge of his nose. The top few buttons of his collared shirt were unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. These were all details I should not have noticed.
Maxsmiled up at me. “Good night, thanks for the dinner. Tomorrow’s shift might be a little crazier since it’s a weekend, so get some good sleep.”
“Sure thing, Boss,” I said over my shoulder as I walked back down the hall, and I heard Max chuckle from behind me.
* * *
Maxhad undersold just how wild a Saturday night at the PrismSociety was. It was as if all of NewYork’s wealthy and horny came together in one place to let out their frustrations they’d let build up all week.
Sofar, I had made over seven hundred dollars in tips, seen three pairs of tits, and walked in on one blow job being given in a lounge upstairs. And it wasn’t even ten o’clock. ButI was also working my magic on hyping up Max’s event. I was busy schmoozing members to get them to verbally commit to joining the tasting next month. I knew how much the hands-on practice would help Max with his exam and I desperately wanted to make the event incredible.
Ialso desperately needed to find more comfortable shoes. I thought I was a pro at being on my feet in designer footwear. I was one to not sacrifice style for comfort and knew the way my legs looked in a nice heel. But the shifts this week and the busy back and forth I was making tonight from the lounge to the bar and back again were killing me.
Butif I took my shoes off now, they wouldn’t go back on my feet, so I took a deep breath, ignored the throbbing in the balls of my feet, and put a smile on my face. I might have to make a fashion faux pas and switch to comfort footwear next week. The thought made me nauseous.
“How’s your first couple of weeks going, sis?” Dominic’s voice stole my attention away from my achy feet. I was pleased he and Liam kept their appearances in the club to busy nights and big events. I really had no interest in seeing my brother waltzing around a sex club.
Ilet out a breath. “It’s good, my feet hurt, but the tips are good.”
Domleaned against the bar, his gaze thoughtful as he watched me rearrange the cocktail menus. “Izzy, about this wine-tasting event next month . . .” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking it might be time to take event planning off Max’s plate, especially with his sommelier exam coming up.”
Myheart skipped a beat, sensing where this was going. “Really?”
Henodded. “Yeah, and I was thinking, if this event goes well—by which I mean, it draws a good crowd, gets positive feedback, and brings in some new memberships—then maybe we could make event planning an official part of your job here.”
Thestakes had never been clearer, and a thrill of excitement coursed through me. The idea of having a more concrete role in shaping the experience at the PrismSociety, especially in a way that played to my strengths and passions, was both daunting and exhilarating.
Domcontinued, a hint of a smile on his face. “I’ve seen how you are with people, Izzy. You have a knack for this. AndI trust you to bring something special to the table. So, what do you say? Think you can make this wine tasting a night to remember?”
Firedup, I locked eyes with Dom. “You got it, Dom. I’ll make this event killer, promise.”
Hegrinned, a rare sight from him, his confidence in me a tangible thing. “I know you will. And you’ll have the entire atrium upstairs at your disposal. I can’t wait to see what you do with the space.”
Thechallenge was set, and I was ready to rise to it. This event wasn’t just an opportunity to showcase my event-planning skills. It was a chance to carve out a new role for myself within the PrismSociety, one that could potentially shape my future. The thought filled me with a mix of nerves and anticipation, but I was determined to succeed. After all, with the support of Dom, Max, and the rest of the team, how could I fail?
Ismiled at Dom, a bit of nostalgia filling my head. Seven years didn’t seem like a huge age gap for siblings, but when it meant you moved out of the house before your younger sibling could even drive, it felt like a gaping timeline. I was so ready to leave the city that I didn’t even think twice before hopping on the plane. I’m not sure if I even said bye to Dominic before I’d left.
Andsince I’d been gone he’d grown into a whole ass adult. Well, as much as a twenty-eight-year-old man can really be. ButIwas proud of him. He’d had an idea for something and made it come to life, no questions asked.
“Hey, I haven’t seen Liam yet. Does he ever come around?” I asked. I’d met Liam only once before and it was via Facetime. I’d called Dominic when I’d made the decision to move back home and had practically begged him for a job or at least a reference for one. He and Liam had been in the club when I called, and Dom had offered me a spot at the PrismSociety with zero hesitation.
“Yeah, he’s here somewhere, probably trying to sneak away to a room with Emma,” Dominic said.
Ihad heard Dom mention Emma a few times before; he seemed to have a fun little friend group that all helped bring the club to life in some way. Emma had designed this place and so, even though I hadn’t met her, I knew she would love me—my taste was impeccable.
“You talking shit about me?” I turned to see Liam and a stunning brunette at his side. Liam clapped Dom on the back and smiled at me. “We finally meet in the flesh.”
“Liam! Hi, thank you so much for letting me be a part of this.” I leaned in to hug Liam, his broad shoulders tight under my grasp.
“Of course, we’ll do whatever for the family. Iz, this is Emma, the mastermind behind all of this,” Liam said with a huge smile on his face, his arms fanned out wide.
Emmasmiled softly, leaning in to hug me. “It’s so great to meet you. Dom’s told us all about you.”
Myeyes flicked over to Dom. “Oh, there’s not a lot to tell, just an old haggard sister with nothing going on in my life.”
Domgave me a curious look but said nothing. Because there was no arguing with that sentiment. I was standing in front of, what felt like, babies, who had way more direction and progress in life than I did.
“Well, we’re really happy you’re here,” Emma said, breaking my inner pity party, “and Dom told me about the event upstairs. Let me know if you need any help with the setup or design, I’m here if you need me.”
Ismiled at Emma. I knew I would love her. “Thank you, I’ll let you know for sure.” I waved goodbye to the group as I checked in with a few tables I felt were ready to slip me some more cash and watched as my brother and his friends made their way through the lounge greeting members.
Theywere like the FantasticFour of the sex club scene, and as wild as that sounded, it was even crazier that I was envious of it. My girlfriends were busy picking out the best country club location for their bridal showers and adding dishes to their registry list while I was brainstorming ideas for orthopedic high heels.
* * *
“Sorry, but you’re gonna have to deal with my stinky feet,” I said as Ifinally had the chance to take off my heels once the front doors of the club clicked shut and Max turned the lock.
Dominicand Liam had come to make their rounds, chat up VIP members, and check on the staff, but they had left hours ago. Maureen and Jules had closed down their stations and said good night as the last member was leaving. Now, it was just Max and me.
Iput one hand on Max’s shoulder and reached down to slide off a heel. I winced and audibly groaned as my foot became free from the leather confines, red lines marking up the sides of my arch. I stood on one foot for a while, my barefoot suspended in the air, flexing my toes. I was anxious to place my foot on the carpet, afraid of how putting my weight back on it would feel.
Maxlooked down at me in question, holding me up with his body weight. I sighed and started to lower my foot to the ground, squinting my eyes in anticipation of the pain. If years of stumbling around cobblestone streets in five-inch heels hadn’t taken a toll on my feet, the broken ankle from a cliff dive in Belize sure sealed the deal.
But, tonight, my foot never touched the ground.
Instead, it swung up in the air, my shoe clattering to the floor as Max scooped me up. A yelp escaped my mouth as Max carried me through the velvet curtains and into the lounge. His arms felt strong beneath me, and I felt his hands curl around my waist and under my knees. His chest was so warm, and he smelled like whiskey smoke and oranges.
Hewalked me through the lounge like I weighed nothing. I brought my arms up around his neck to steady myself even though something told me there was no chance of me falling.
Maxsat me down gently in one of the cushioned lounge chairs and I immediately missed his warmth. He scooted another over so I could use it as a footrest, lifted my legs, and placed them on the second chair, sliding off my other shoe for me. I winced slightly at the relief of pressure.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll wear better shoes next time, Boss.”
“That sounds like a good plan. I’m sure your feet will thank you,” Max said. “By the way,” he said, glancing down at my feet, “your feet don’t smell.”
Ichuckled and reached down to rub the balls of my feet.
“What’s funny?” Max asked.
“Oh, nothing, just remembering about this guy I met in Prague. He . . . had a foot fetish.” I shivered at the memory. It had really creeped me out. “We worked together at this little café, and I went back to his apartment one night after working a shift wearing ChuckTaylors all night.”
Maxstarted walking around the lounge, picking up crumbled napkins, highball glasses, and abandoned cocktail straws. The lights from the overhead chandelier still showed down on the lounge, and a mix of expensive perfumes from members clung to the air. I could swear I could sniff out CliveChristian’sNo. 1.
“I cannot picture you wearing Chucks to save my life,” Max said from across the bar.
“It was part of the uniform,” I continued. “Anyways, he slipped off my shoes and smelled my feet, but like, in a way that it seemed like he liked it? And, oh god, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” I winced at the memory.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Max said.
“He . . . he started sucking on my toes.” I buried my face in my hands at the memory.
Maxthrew his head back and laughed. “I’m sorry, your feet are cute and all, but I just don’t picture myself wanting to put those toes in my mouth,” Max said.
“Hey, don’t yuck someone’s yum, but yeah.” I laughed. “It was . . . an experience. I ended up getting the heck out of his apartment and quit the next day. I couldn’t bear to face him again.”
“Note to self: don’t suck on Isabella’s toes, or she’ll quit,” Max said.
“Yeah, something like that,” I said. “Okay, I think I’m going to brave standing on my feet. I actually have a surprise for you.”
Maxheld up his hand to stop me.
“What do you need?” he asked. “I’ll go grab it, or we’ll be waiting here all night for you to get back.” I rolled my eyes but sighed and slunk back into the chair.
“Just grab my bag from the locker,” I said. “Be gentle with her, though!”
Maxcame out seconds later, cradling my purse like it was a national treasure. He set it on my lap, and I reached inside to grab what I’d been working on. I pulled out a stack of blue-lined cards, straightening them in between my hands.
“I figured if you’re going to be staying late, you might as well get some studying in.” I sunk back down in the lounge chair, lifting my feet back up and flexing my toes. I started rifling through the index cards, looking for a challenging question to fire off at Max.
“You made me study cards?” Max asked.
Ishrugged. “Yeah, I went through some of your homework and jotted down some questions I thought seemed hard. I don’t have a ton yet, but I’ll keep adding to the stack. Okay, ready?”
Max’sface had an odd look as he stood at the end of the bar with a handful of glasses ready to clean, but he nodded.
“Okay, ‘NobleRot.’” I read off one side of my flashcards. “Sounds like the title of a Victorian-era mystery novel.”
Maxsnorted as he walked behind the bar and started putting the glasses in the sink, “Close, but it’s actually a beneficial fungus for wine grapes. Makes for some of the best dessert wines.”
“Wine and fungus.” I scrunched up my nose as I flipped to the next card. “Now that’s a romantic pairing.”
“Okay, what’s the primary difference between the ChampagneMethod and the CharmatMethod of sparkling wine production?” I asked, flipping over the flashcard to spoil the answer for myself.
Maxpaused washing before answering, “TheChampagneMethod involves secondary fermentation in the bottle, while the CharmatMethod does it in large tanks. I think.”
Inodded, signaling he’d gotten it correct. I kept flipping through the stack of cards and Max kept getting them all right. He was way more ready than he was giving himself credit for.
“Okay, here’s a hard one: What role does sulfur dioxide play in winemaking?” I asked.
“It acts as a preservative and prevents oxidation,” he answered.
“Ding, ding ding! You got it. You’re gonna crush this, Max,” I said as I flipped through the deck of cards to find another hard one.
“Thanks,” Max said quietly with his back now turned to me. Was there something cautious in that “thanks”? Was there hesitation underneath the surface?
“I mean, you knew what I meant when I butchered the word Brettanomyces so I think you’re going to do just fine,” I said.
Maxchuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Isabella.” His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary, sparking an unexpected warmth inside me.
Lookingto shift the atmosphere from this unexpected moment of intimacy, I jumped to a topic that had been swirling in my mind. “Speaking of getting together, Jules keeps inviting me to go on a double date with her and her partner, but something tells me I might be a little out of their age bracket of double-date fun.”
“Why do you do that?” Max set down the wineglass and leaned on the counter.
“Do what?” I asked, setting down the flash cards.
“Lump yourself in this geriatric bucket like you can’t have fun anymore,” Max said.
Ilingered on Max’s face before I answered, noticing the furrow between his brows and the intense stare behind his brown eyes. “I don’t know, I kinda feel geriatric. I’m actually considering buying orthopedic shoes for goodness’ sake.” I lifted my feet and wiggled my toes.
“Well, that’s just a smart decision considering your job; it has nothing to do with your age,” Max said.
Mylaughter held a tinge of self-deprecation. “I don’t know, it’s just . . . I’m starting to think I should be further along in life given my age. I’m feeling a bit . . . left behind, I suppose.”
Max’sresponse had a sharper edge to it, teasing but probing. “So this job is what, just a placeholder? Something to pass the time with us bar-lurkers until your real life begins?”
“That’s not it,” I said quickly, a rush of heat coloring my cheeks. “You have this big goal, this dream, and every step you take is in pursuit of it. I’m just here—treading water, not sure which direction to swim in.”
“And you’re just waiting?” Max curled an eyebrow. “Hoping for some grand epiphany or for someone to make up your mind for you?”
Iexhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze. There was an intensity in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. “I suppose so. I mean, no one wants to be indecisive, right? ButI’m scared of choosing the wrong path and wasting time. I’m just . . . looking for a sign or something.”
Thespace between us filled with my confessions, and for a moment, we both just existed within it. I felt vulnerable, my admissions hanging in the air like delicate glasswork, ready to shatter.
“Did you always know you wanted to be a sommelier?” I redirected the conversation away from the precipice of my uncertainties, focusing on Max in an attempt to tether myself back to the ground.
Maxchuckled before he said, “No, I didn’t even know what a sommelier was until I met your brother. Growing up in JacksonHeights didn’t necessarily expose me to the finer things in life. It was at a dinner your parents hosted where I actually met my first sommelier. From there, I was hooked. I love the idea of guiding someone to have an experience they might not have considered.”
Ienvied how sure Max was about his passion. He saw something that interested him, and he just knew. I quieted as my mind flipped through all my past jobs and small bursts of passion projects. Waitressing, hostel admin, writing, even that time I thought I would love being an au pair, or the time I tried to teach yoga to tourists. They all breezed through my mind as fun memories, but nothing lit me up.
Thedim lighting of the lounge created a quiet ambiance, punctuated only by the soft clink of glasses as Max cleaned up. Candlelight flickered, reflecting off the mercury glass vases and casting shadows on the wall.
“So, who would you take?” Max’s voice, a deep lull from across the room, pulled me out of my reverie.
“What?” I replied, blinking a few times, my brain still stuck in overthinking mode.
“On the double date. If you had to choose, who would you bring along?” His brown eyes met mine, searching.
“Oh,” I paused, biting my lower lip in thought. “That’s, um, a detail I’ve overlooked. There’s, well, no one really.”
Ateasing smile tugged at the corner of Max’s lips. “I’m right here, you know.”
“You?” I raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming. “Offering to be my knight in shining armor and save me from the horror of showing up dateless?”
Maxleaned on the bar, his voice dropping an octave. “It wouldn’t be a favor, Isabella. I’d genuinely enjoy taking you out.”
“Sure,” I scoffed, feigning nonchalance. But as I moved to collect my belongings, I felt the intensity of his gaze. A warmth crept up my neck, not entirely unpleasant.
Afleeting thought crossed my mind: Was it so bad if someone like Max was interested in me? Lately, it felt as if time was running out, each ticktock of the clock a reminder of my advancing age. Yet, I knew better. Delving into something with Max? It was inviting chaos. I’d learned that lesson before.
Myphone buzzed, signaling a message. It was my driver, waiting around the corner. I exhaled in relief. Tonight, I craved the comfort of my childhood home, the luxury of a hot bath, and the solace of being wrapped in the familiarity of my past.
“I’ll see you, Max,” I murmured, heading toward the velvet curtains that hid the front door.
AsI left, I couldn’t help but glance back once, catching the lingering look in his eyes.