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"A combination of factors. Rents and property are less expensive in the suburbs and there are more options available. Onsite parking is a huge bonus, but not something I could have offered in a downtown nightclub." Not with what I had for starter money.
Maybe, not even if I'd had twice as much to work with. Getting space in a building with a parking garage in downtown Portland can take a year, or longer, on a waiting list.
Properties that have their own parking lots are real estate unicorns and I've never believed in magic.
"It was busy last night." He brushes the top of my hand with his thumb.
Pleasure travels up my arm and zings along no well-traveled nerve endings to my nipples and core.
This man.
"Yes. The customers that would have gone downtown for the latest boutique bar are happy to find something closer to home that offers the same sense of urban sophistication." I work hard to make sure the ambiance and music feel of the moment.
It requires subtle updates to décor, which I assess monthly. Sometimes, it's a simple matter of removing some tables and rearranging others. Other times, it requires paying a graffiti artist to repaint the wall outside or a muralist to do one inside.
I bring in new DJs weekly. When they hit, I have them back. Bringing in popular guest DJs from bigger cities is also important.
"I'm exploring the possibility of doing live music once a week," I tell Atlas. "Portland's music scene is vibrant and popular local bands can bring in their own clientele with them."
"You're a savvy businesswoman, Lucia."
My cheeks warm, I smile. He has no idea how much the compliment means to me. To be recognized for my brain and not only my body. Born a mafia princess, I was considered good for two things by my family:
The potential to make a good marriage alliance, which I did.
Having babies. Which I didn't.
But that last one wasn't my fault. I got pregnant like I was supposed to. What happened after, well that wasn't on me.
Chapter 5
LUCIA
Atlas pulls his SUV into the driveway of the house that is going to be mine in less than three weeks. The pale-yellow ranch style home with its partial brick façade gleams brightly in the autumn sunshine.
Crimson mums fill the brick flowerbox that runs under the picture window in the front of the house.
It's not a big lot, but there's a fenced-in back yard and well-maintained flower beds in the front. Most importantly, it will be mine. My sanctuary. My home.
Elaine, my realtor, is waiting by the front door.
She eyes Atlas with interest before turning to me. "Lock the door from the inside on your way out. I'll leave you to it."
"You don't have to stay to see us out?" Atlas asks, his eyes narrowed.
"No." Elaine smiles at him. "Practically speaking, Lucia is the homeowner."
"If that is the case, then you should install a deadbolt. A lock on the door handle won't keep an intruder out."
"Oh, is he your security consultant?" Elaine asks me.
"No." But apparently, he's very security conscious.
I don't tell Elaine who Atlasisbecause I don't have a label for him.
Hookup? Embarrassing.
Boyfriend? Not quite ready to use that label, despite our discussion about exclusivity.
