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“Propositioning my security, Owen?”
“Fuck, no. She’s married to a special ops guy. I’m not tangling with one of them.”
“Ah, okay. Wise decision to stay away.”
We dodged the Friday night workers who were hell-bent on getting to a café, restaurant, or bar after a buy week’s work. They seemed to be wanting to go in the direction we’d come from.
At Piccolos, one of the owners—Jeremy, greeted us at the door and showed us to our regular table. As we seated ourselves, he asked, “Drinks, gentlemen?”
“Usual, thanks,” I answered.
My usual was a whisky dry while Owen drank whisky soda. We never had more than two, preferring to stay sharp as we were well aware the media was always waiting for me to slip up so they had some fantastic headline.
Jeremy left us alone to fetch the drinks, but we didn’t bother checking the menu while he was gone. Piccolos was our go-to place for seafood and we had a few dishes we chose on rotation. After he set the drinks in front of us, we thanked him, and he took our orders. I chose salmon, while Owen opted for barramundi.
“I wanted to discuss something with you and now seems as good a time as any.”
Owen took a mouthful of his drink and placed his glass back on the table.
“Go ahead.”
“I want you to become a full-time general manager. We’re getting busier with the expansion, and I need someone I can trust by my side. You’re that someone.”
“What about the data division?”
“It was only supposed to be until someone else was found. You’ve been doing both jobs for four years and I need you back in the GM role full-time.”
“You mean you need me at your beck and call,” he laughed.
I laughed with him. “Seriously, is one of your staff suitable to step into your shoes, or should I ask HR to work with you on hiring someone?”
Owen stayed quiet for a moment while we both sipped our drinks.
“I think Raya might be ready. She’s not afraid of hard work or extra hours when required and knows everyone’s job, so she steps in and covers if someone is unavailable. I’d love to see Raya in the position, she has earned the promotion.”
“Speak to her on Monday and let me know if she accepts. Once I know, I’ll get the ball rolling and sort out her salary.”
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled, and the others, with the exception of Colin who likes no one, really like her, so they’ll be happy.”
“Very good. Problem solved.”
Jeremy placed the meals in front of us, added cracked black pepper when we accepted the offer and left us to eat.
As usual, the food was delicious and the conversation with Owen was interesting. Once done, I paid the check, and we walked uptown to where The Myrtle Lounge was located.
After showing our VIP cards at the door, the doorman stood aside, and we entered. The place was packed. Music blared through speakers and the younger clientele, barely old enough to be in the place, were dancing. Or I think that’s what they were doing. Age had caught up with me and I was a long way out of touch with modern fads that seemed to change from one week to the next.
Owen and I headed through the place to a lounge at the back of the club that was quieter. Tables and chairs were scattered around, soft music was piped through speakers, and a full-length bar had only a couple of patrons waiting. It was where older people gathered if they didn’t want to patronise the VIP part of the club or dance. We often sat in the lounge because it was where we usually managed to find a woman looking for the same thing we were at the time.
We headed for the bar, but I stopped short when a woman off to my right, who was speaking with the bartender, caught my attention. I held an arm out across Owen’s chest, effectively stopping him.
“What?” Owen snapped his head to where I stood.
“Wait a minute.” My eyes raked over the woman who wore a black dress that clung to her curves. And boy, did she have curves. Her round butt was the perfect size for my hands, and I could picture holding it as I slammed inside her. Shiny brunette hair cascaded in waves down past her waist and she had legs that went on forever. Even wearing black heels, I doubted she’d reach past my shoulders. I stood one point nine five metres, six feet five inches on the old scale, so not many people, male or female, did.
“The brunette?” Owen asked when he finally saw where my eyes were focused.
I nodded.
