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“You’re welcome, sir, is there anything special you would like for lunch,” he asked.
I shook my head, swallowing the creamy beverage. “No, I am going to have a late lunch. I don’t know what time I’ll be back, so why don’t you take the rest of the day off.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Jefferson inquired.
“Positive. Go and enjoy the rest of the day. You deserve it.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said before I nodded at him with a smile, then retreated to my bedroom.
After a long hot shower to relax my muscles, I trimmed my beard and mustache. Next, I went into my walk-in closet and selected a pair of black Armani slacks with a black and gray houndstooth trimmed dress shirt. Once dressed, I moved to my home office to check the figures from the casino last night and five other gaming houses I owned around the city.
I was finishing with the books by the time Batista arrived. Other than giving Pierre and Prosper back their money, I was pleased with the numbers.
“What up, Dom?” Batista greets, entering the office, dressed in black slacks as well and a light blue dress shirt.
Closing my laptop, I reply, “Not much. The numbers from last night were good. The way things are going, I’m ready to add a theater to Blue Bayou to bring in entertainers which would generate more revenue.”
“I think that’s a good idea. A few of the other casinos around here have one, might as well add one to Blue Bayou too.”
Standing, I state, “Set up a meeting this week with the marketing team, lawyers, and accountants to brainstorm on when we can make this happen. I’m keen on getting this started.”
“I’ll make the calls tomorrow,” he returns, then looks at his watch. “It’s time for us to get going.”
Picking up my cell phone, I move from around the desk, then touch my pistol concealed in its holster in the back of my slacks before making sure I have my wallet in my back pocket.
“Let’s go,” said once I felt my wallet.
Batista leaves the room. I follow, turning off the light and closing the door. We made our way through the house, to the front door. After leaving the house, we got in Batista’s canary yellow Porsche 718 Cayman.
“So much for showing up incognito?” I joke, opening the passenger door.
Batista laughs, “It’s a beautiful day to drive a beautiful car.”
“If you say so,” I return, getting in.
On the ride over to Ruby’s Kitchen, Batista and I talked more about the theater. I think it would be an amazing opportunity to have singers, comedians, and other entertainers come in. We could even occasionally have a show for the kiddos.
As Batista turned onto Cooper Road, there was a change in the environment. I’ve been in this part of the city multiple times. The first was years ago when I was younger. I came with my daddy when he met with two brothers he was supplying with drugs. I never got their names, but I briefly saw them as I waited in the car outside of the bar as daddy, his right-hand man, and the brothers went inside.
Since moving to Shreveport, I dropped the narcotic side of business since that was the main reason the feds and every other law enforcement agency were breathing down our backs. Daddy didn’t want to let that side of our business go, but at that point his arguments fell on deaf ears. It was way beyond time to revamp the DeLuca name and empire.
“This place must have some really good food. Look how packed the parking lot is,” Batista states, turning into the lot.
By the aroma’s seeping in the car, I would have to agree. How did we not know about this place? I just hope the food tastes as good as it smells.
Batista finds a parking spot one aisle over from the front door. After parking, we got out and he set the car alarm. Stepping inside the restaurant, I see the diversity of diners sitting at the tables enjoying their meals.
The host at the stand greets us. “Welcome to Ruby’s Kitchen. Will it just be the two of you?” she asks with a welcoming smile.
Moving closer to the stand, I tell her, “Actually, we’re meeting someone.”
“Okay, if you give me their name, I’ll have one of the waiters show you to their table,” she says as I scan the dining area. I find Sydney sitting at a table in the far section of the restaurant, sitting with an older man and woman with their backs toward us.
“I’ve found them,” I say before walking away with Batista close behind.
As I approach the table, Sydney and her table guests laugh at something the man said. Sydney looks up and sees me when I’m about fifteen feet away. Her smile fades as I get closer. Her expression turns into one of anger and shock. The man and woman whisper amongst each other, not paying attention to the change in her demeanor.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Morgan. Fancy seeing you here,” I smirk, acting like it was a coincidence we happen to be here at the same time.
