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A rapid series of knocks from behind me turned all our attention. In the doorway was Walter, who had disappeared for a little bit. His hair was messy, and he looked slightly frantic.
“So sorry, but I have to run, Dylan. My mom again.”
Dylan nodded, his face showing that this has definitely happened before. “Go.”
“Thank you.” Walter gave a tiny bow, turned on his heel, and disappeared again.
We got comfortable around a dining table in the dining room, adjacent to the greenhouse of a living space. There was a flow of fresh air from the bay that beat back the oppressive heat that tried chasing you indoors.
Dylan sat down at the head of the long table, putting his wineglass down with a clink on the polished wood. Pierre and Lucien were sitting on opposite sides of him.
“Beautiful place you guys have,” I said, letting myself openly admire the modern and clean architecture mixed with some classic Miami flair. Most of the walls were a bright white except for one, a wall that popped since it was covered in bold prints of palm trees and deep green palm leaves. There was a neon flamingo that sat next to a black-and-white bookshelf next to a sunny reading nook, plenty of worn-out book spines staring back. None of the titles particularly jumped out at me. There was one book with its faded cover facing out: an old guidebook of Miami beach.
It looked vintage and judging by its plastic cover, it may have even been valuable.
“Thank you. It’s mostly all our fabulous interior designer. She’s worked on Jennifer Lopez’s place, right down the street, and after we saw Jen’s living room, we knew we had to get this entire place redone.”
“Still have a couple of reno projects we want to tackle,” Lucien pointed out, “but so far, so good.”
“Have to make sure we don’t blow it on our finances.” Dylan spoke as though there had already been a talk about blowing their finances.
“We had to tighten our belts.” Lucien shrugged. “C’est la vie. Thankfully, things turned around for us.”
“Well, the club isn’t my only business, baby.” Dylan sounded a little like someone tired of reminding people what they did. “We’ll always be fine.”
“Still,” Pierre jumped in, “the club is a big part of our life. And a big part of the community, too. We may not have had full-capacity nights until recently, but all those faces I’d see every night inspire me. I loved seeing everyone having a great time every night; it didn’t matter that the dance floors were a little empty. These men and women were finding a place to let loose and be themselves, and now that’s threatened.” He was getting angrier the more he spoke; I saw it through the flush of pink rising up his neck, coloring his fair complexion. “You two need to stop it before it gets out of hand.”
“We will,” I assured him.
“I love you, Pierre, I love you so much, baby.” Dylan reached for Pierre’s hand and grabbed it, pulling it up to his lips and kissing him.
“So, you mentioned that the club was quiet until recently. Is it because of the drug?” Fox was typing up his notes from the meeting on his phone, his big fingers flying across the screen.
“For sure,” Lucien offered, “I’ve never seen our lines so long, and it all happened after the drug started to spread.”
“It’s just a coincidence.” Dylan waved it off. “A good one. But I’ll take it.”
Pierre perked up in his seat, cutting through the bullshit. “Really? You don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that, for some reason, this drug is only showing up at our doorstep? That’s being a little bit ignorant, Dylan.”
I looked to Dylan, who bristled for a moment before moving on. “I don’t want that kind of business, then. I’d rather our club be a ghost town than a hotbed for a new drug that’s killing more people than it gets high.”
Lucien’s enthusiasm about the drug and the business it stirred sparked a question. “Have any of you ever taken this drug?” I asked.
Dylan shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not, no. None of us have. Wouldn’t even know where to get the damn thing. If I did, I’d stop it.”
“How has no one been able to track down the source if this is only centered around your club?” Fox asked, blunt with his question like a barbarian with a club. He looked to the three men, none of them being able to give an answer.
“As the owners of Club Trinity, I don’t think many people really trust us. Not with information about their drug dealers. They know I’d shut that shit down in a second.” Dylan’s answer made sense, but it was still frustrating.
Fox grinned then. It felt a little predatory, like a tiger who had cornered its shaking prey.
