My father looked at me and shook his head slightly.
“That’s a good question. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Moretti said.
“My name is Adrian Cole Bennett. But everyone calls me Cole to avoid confusion.”
“I see. Now I have a better understanding of your previous question. Makes sense. Well, to answer your question, we make more money lending out money to business clients than here at the club. Your father knows that perfectly well.”
What does that mean?
Moretti called over the bartender, who was standing behind him, and whispered something in his ear. Moretti nodded.
“And, Mr. Bennett, what would you like to drink?” Moretti asked.
“I’ll have the same as Cole. Thank you.”
The bartender was very attentive and polite. His white uniform was spotless.
“Tell you what, I’ll try this Diet Dr. Spencer myself. Please bring us three bottles with glasses,” Moretti ordered the bartender.
The seats had velvet cushions, and my seat felt very comfortable.
While we waited for the drinks to arrive, my father changed the subject to something more serious.
“So, Vincent—pardon me, I mean Moretti. I spoke to your dad in Jersey, and he knows I need a new payment arrangement for the loan. My son here is taking over the clubs, and I need three months to bring him up to speed.”
“Sure, I understand, Mr. Bennett. My father explained the situation. I’m so sorry to hear about your illness.”
“Me too,” I said.
The bartender came over with the drinks and glasses. He poured us the drinks and left.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Bennett. I’ll bring Cole up to speed, and we’ll work it out. Please remember that after the three months, I expect the monthly payments to be made promptly. No more extensions,” Moretti said sternly. “In the meantime, your nightclub membership will be transferred to Cole, and he can enjoy all the nightclub entertainment and escort services as he chooses.”
“Yes, I understand,” my father said.
“Me too,” I added.
Nightclub membership? Escort services? What’s this all about?
“Good. Good to hear we’re all on the same page,” Moretti replied.
Moretti may be young, but he means business.
“Here’s to a great relationship,” Moretti said as he raised his glass.
We all clinked glasses and took a sip.
The bartender came back again and whispered something in Moretti’s ear. Moretti whispered back.
“We don’t want to keep you longer than needed. I just wanted you to meet my son, Cole. Please thank your father for me,” my dad said.
“Tell you what, Mr. Bennett, I’ll have my driver take you home, and in the meantime I’ll go over the new terms with your son Cole here. How does that sound?”
“That’s fine with me,” my dad replied. “Is that okay with you, Cole?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
I finished my drink.
