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Back in my office, I called my stepbrother, Dalt, in Sausalito, an awesome artsy little town just outside San Francisco.
“Yo, Bro,” he hollered.
Dalt was the only one who could call me that.
“Dude. How’s Sausalito and the art world?”
I pushed my office door closed and looked around. God, Trudy kept this place nice. I would annihilate it by leaving papers and other crap all over the place, and she’d have it straightened out in the time it took me to take a piss.
Seagulls screeched on the other end of the line. Was that bastard at the beach?
“Yeah, had an art show last week and sold all but one of my paintings. I’m at Stinson Beach right now, about to go over to Noelle’s tavern.”
“Damn! Where’s my painting, man?”
Dalt laughed. “I’m working on it.”
“I just got out of another one of those bachelor auction things.”
“What? You always get sucked into those. Some group here, I think it was called the Guardsmen, tried to recruit me. I told them hell no. But I did write a check to their charity.”
“Well, I didn’t get off quite that easy. You know Mrs. Dolan.”
“She’s the one who helped your dad out, right?”
“Yeah, good memory. She runs the things. Hey, how’s Noelle?”
“Gorgeous as ever.” He laughed again. “Really working her ass off in both the tavern and doing massage at Devi’s Bliss. I don’t know how she does it, dude. I just get tired watching her. So what’s up with things in the Big Apple?”
“My business partners are still shitting on my idea of expanding to San Francisco. They say the market is saturated,” I explained.
“They’re dead wrong. Let me see if I can introduce you to some investors here. The Tenderloin is being developed like crazy, and it’s adjacent to downtown. Perfect location.”
“Dalt, that would be awesome. Thanks.”
“All right. I gotta run.”
“See ya,” I said.
I loved that guy.
