by Kat Pace
“Wow. You guys,” I say, giving the thumbs up. “You make us look our ages.”
“I’ve always been the better looking one.” Brody shoves Brooks.
“Come on. We were supposed to be in the lounge 10 minutes ago,” Brooks says coolly.
He’s turning again.
The lounge is already crowded when we get there. What a blend of guests. Gentlemen with suits and cigars, holding brandies, conversing with young hipster twenty-something’s wearing too skinny of pants. Girls with body-con dresses and stiletto heels walking alongside women in floor-length gowns. It seems my semi-formal wrap dress is a happy medium.
Brody takes Lauren by the arm and steers her ahead of us. I shift awkwardly next to Brooks, unsure of how much is too much.
We’re here as friends, I remind myself.
We walk further into the room and deeper into the guests. The space itself is massive. It’s the oldest part of the resort, leftover from the old sugar mill that used to be on the grounds. It’s far from the high-rise of the main hotel and has a completely different ambiance. There’s a huge vaulted ceiling and wide-open archways that lead to the courtyard. Leather sofas and chairs cluster around small glass tables.
The bar runs the length of the room, raised on a platform off to the side. Its flagstone floor is covered in the center by a thick vintage carpet that matches the leather. Glass chandeliers hang in each of the three archways.
I spot Ken standing at the side of the bar, in front of two chairs occupied by men puffing cigars. He doesn’t even notice when we enter. Doesn’t even look up. Three women approach him, each in a luxurious evening gown. I can almost hear their laughter as if they were next to me. I notice how Ken throws his head back when he laughs. How his entire face lights up. So familiar.
People look at us, craning their necks to see if we are a celebrity or influencer or famous for some other fake reason. Now that I look around, I do see some celebrities. They shall remain nameless. I saw that person in a movie last month. And that person used to be in a TV show I watched. OMG, that person I follow!
“Seriously, how did your dad get some of these people here?” I whisper, leaning into Brooks.
“His checkbook.” Brooks doesn’t smile.
The cocktail waitresses all match. Of course. They have tight black midi-dresses on with white belts. V iconic look. One passes near us, shocked to see our empty hands.
“Welcome to the Launch. What can I get you?” She smiles, her eyes shifting between Brooks and Brody. Be more obvious.
“I’ll help myself, thanks.” Brooks passes by her. I follow behind him.
“Kinda rude of you,” I say. He looks sideways at me. I’m not used to being on his level.
“What? I don’t need someone waiting on me.” He looks away. “I can pour my own drink.”
“It’s a party. It is her job.” I roll my eyes, bracing for tense Brooks. I don’t think I have the energy to deal with him tonight. I squeeze his arm, aware of his minor flinch as I do so. “Don’t make this unpleasant for all of us.”
He measures me for a minute, calculating his options. Something flickers behind his eyes. “Fine. You’re right.”
I let Brooks lead me through the crowd, across the tapestry rug, and up the two steps to the grand bar. We stop next to Brody and Lauren, next to Ken, who hardly notices until Brody clears his throat.
“Jay! Brody!” Ken turns, exclaiming too loudly. He shakes both their hands (for show) and I get what Brooks meant. This is not who we met for lunch. This is a different person. “Emmy, Lauren.”
We don’t get handshakes. No hugs either. Fine by me.
“These two are mine,” Ken says, indicating Brooks and Brody with his drink hand. “Take after their mother, of course.”
This annoys me. I get it. It’s just what people say. Yes, Brooks and Brody are two of the most stupidly beautiful men I’ve ever fucking laid eyes on, but honestly put an age filter on them and they’re Ken.
“Nice to meet you,” Brody says, shaking the man’s hand.
“And this is Jay,” Ken adds, nodding to Brooks. “My oldest.”
“You’re the one with Edge, right?” The second man asks, shaking Brooks’s hand. He looks Brooks over, like he’s evaluating him. I can feel his discomfort beside me.
“Yes, that’s him. Started it while he was still in school.” Ken answers for his son.
“It was a group of us.” I hear Brooks mumble, running his fingers through his hair the way he does when he’s on edge.
“He’s being modest. Jay was the only one with the head to run it. Make it take off. It got picked up by universities across the county.”
I can’t tell if it’s pride in Ken’s voice or if he’s just that great at faking it. Maybe a little of both.
The cocktail waitress is back, spotting Brody and Brooks with Ken has peaked her interest. Maybe they’re not celebrities, but one look at the three of them together and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that they’re the heirs to this entire place. To all of Star Resorts. To ignore Brody or Brooks would be to ignore Ken.
“Doll, please get these four a drink,” Ken says. “Whatever they want.”
Kind of him. Not like it’s an open bar or anything.
“Right away, Mr. Brooks.” She flashes her smile and flips her hair back. Basic. Her death stare at me is almost too predictable. I tighten my hand on Brooks again.
“Let’s go,” Brooks mumbles, taking advantage of the momentary silence.
We walk the length of the bar. Brooks says hello to people he knows and points out people he recognizes –old acquaintances, his father’s business partners, resort investors, etc. It’s obvious that no one knows who we are or cares.
“If I say hi to everyone and they all see me, then my dad can’t give me shit later.” Brooks explains to be under his breath.
“Got it. Showing face.” I nod.
The hors d'oeuvres start. Trays are waltzed around by nimble servers –trays with fancy appetizers I’ve never seen before.
Brooks sets his glass down right on the edge of the bar when Brody comes walking up. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’re being summoned again.”
“I’m out. You represent me,” Brooks scowls, taking another sip from his glass.
“Oh no, absolutely not. Come on.” Brody tugs on his brother’s arm.
“This won’t take long,” Brooks says, eyes locking on mine. I nod.
“Why do I get the feeling this is gonna happen all night long?” Lauren asks. We watch the two of them disappear into the crowd again.
“Because it will.” I examine the glass in my own hand. Beautiful crystal, heavy crystal. It looks like it was cut from the chandelier, like little pieces fell down and formed glasses.
“Well, shall we?” Lauren says, holding her arm out.
She’s so pleasant I can’t even say no. I can’t even tell her all I really want to do it sit and wait for Brooks.
“We shall,” I say, discarding my glass and linking my arm through hers.
“With any luck, we’ll be able to snag some rich celebrities,” she smirks. I laugh. You know, Lauren would make an excellent sister wife. Not like sister wife, but pseudo sister wife.
Fuck me.
“Not them,” Lauren says, nodding to a group of middle-aged men surrounding one of the cocktail waitresses.
“Nope,” I agree, steering us sideways through the second archway. “Not them.”
“Definitely not them,” Lauren laughs. I follow her eyes to a group of hipster bros wearing black skinny jeans and leather jackets. Vape pen on the belt.
“Fuck no,” I curse under my breath. My sister wife laughs.
“Oh my god! I just LOVE your dress.” I hear next to us. I turn, looking for the commotion.
Three glamorous women, a little older than me, probably 30, are walking up to us. They all have the same drink, matching umbrellas on the rims. The one closest to us is staring right at me. I realize it must have been she who t
alked.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Where’s it from?” She asks. Like she cares. She’s wearing a floor-length dress, champagne gold, with a pearl beaded bodice. She looks fucking famous. Can’t place her.
“Online. Lulus.” I smile at her, suddenly a little self-conscious about my $85 wrap dress.
Her two friends are now complimenting Lauren’s hair, asking if it’s real. Maybe they mean to be nice, the way women think throwing out a compliment will make you all the sudden best friends. Really, it just feels like they’re picking us apart with a fine-tooth comb.
“It’s so great to see women our age,” the first girl says. “I’m Rachel. And these are Jenna and Shay.”
“Hi, I’m Emmy. This is Lauren.”
I smile at the other two women. Jenna is in an all-black gown with a mock neckline and statement earrings. Shay’s sapphire dress cascades over her bod like a waterfall. The only things sharper than the diamond ring weighing down her hand are her cheekbones. Never have I ever seen anyone rock a high pony so well.
“So,” Rachel says. “How are you two here? Are you up-and-comers? Influencers?”
“We are friends of the family,” I say, leaving it vague.
“The family?” Jenna asks, coy.
“The family of the hotel,” I mumble. Stop offering information, Em.
“Oh, you know Ken? I mean, Mr. Brooks,” Rachel laughs. She must think the name-drop impresses us. If only she knew. She tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Yes, a long time.” Something weird is happening to my voice and I don’t like it.
“And how did you ladies come to be here?” Lauren chimes in, saving me from having to speak again. Very Trix of her.
Maybe she can sense my weird voice.
“Oh, Shay here is dating him.” Jenna fixes her eyes on a tall figure standing just behind them.
No shit.
“We’re just the guests,” Rachel says, exaggerating. “Lucky we happened to be in Miami. If you two know Ken, you must be from New Jersey?”
“Actually,” I blurt out, low key hating the way she says New Jersey. “I live in Seattle. I’m just in for the weekend.”
“And I’m from Georgia.” Lauren says.
“Georgia. That’s so close,” Jenna laughs.
Literally not.
“It’s actually a whole state away,” Lauren shrugs.
“So,” Rachel says, clapping her hands together. “Just here for the weekend you say? Browsing your options? These types of galas are great to meet someone.”
“Seriously, have you seen some of the men around here?” Jenna’s eyes sweep the room.
“You two, stop, please,” Shay says, rolling her eyes. Dude, this bitch is pure class. I can’t stop staring at her face.
“Sorry we can’t all have a rich and famous boyfriend,” Jenna sighs.
“Though that is on my to-do list. Along with some of these men,” Rachel smirks.
“Oh, I know. It’s like being attractive was a requirement tonight,” I say.
“Fine by me,” Jenna says. “Have you seen the two ones that were walking around with Ken? Must be models. Maybe for the new hotel campaign?”
I spit out my drink mid-sip. Yes, like they do in the movies. Lauren smirks next to me. I side eye her and she’s laughing. She shakes her head a fraction of an inch.
“No! Haven’t seen them yet. Good-looking?” Lauren asks, forehead creased.
“Good-looking doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Rachel says. Jenna nods beside her. Shay is already bored with us.
“Are they famous? Actors maybe?” Lauren asks.
“Actually, I think they’re musicians. A boy band maybe,” I say, nodding. I’m dying.
“Musicians? Ohh, why don’t you go talk to them?” Lauren asks, turning to Rachel.
“Yea. You are browsing, right?” I add encouragement. Jenna scoffs.
“Please. Ladies, you wait for these types of guys to come to you,” Jenna says, like duh. Like we are ten year-olds getting a lesson from a thirteen year-old.
“That hardly seems right,” I laugh.
“Yea, just walk up and grab one and kiss them!” Lauren is egging them on. My inner self is cracking up.
People really can’t pick up what you put down, huh?
“OK,” Rachel says, her wine glass switching hands. “If that’s all you need to do. You do it.”
“There’s one now,” Jenna says, her eyes craning over the nearby tables. “And there’s the other.”
Brody and Brooks appear from a cloud of cigar smoke. I can read Brooks’s eyes from across the room. He’s in no mood to be fucked with.
“Yea, go do it.” I give Lauren a little push on her back. With a little wink she flips her hair, turns on the spot, and marches up to Brody.
The kiss could be in a movie.
“What!” Rachel exclaims.
“NO way!” Jenna echoes.
“Man, look at her go,” I laugh.
Lauren looks over at us, giving the thumbs up. I give a fake clap for her fake performance. Rachel and Jenna are busy picking up their jaws.
Brooks is headed straight for me. I don’t even have time to think of a story when he stops next to me and slides his hand around my waist and presses his lips to my ear.
Jenna’s eyes are bulging like she’s a frog in pain. Rachel just laughs with disbelief.
I shift slightly into Brooks.
“Let’s get outta here,” he whispers into the side of my neck. It’s so quiet that if I didn’t feel his breath, I’d be sure he didn’t open his mouth at all. I’d be sure he telecommuted it to me.
“Hi,” Rachel blurts out.
Brooks ignores her, still being rude. She has the same scorned frown I saw on the cocktail waitress earlier. He pulls me by the waist over to the leather sofa –over to Brody and Lauren.
“Nice to meet you!” I shout back over my shoulder.
Idiots.
“Come on. We’re leaving,” Brooks says.
“What happened?” I ask, making him look at me. It’s Brody who answers.
“Well, my dad thought he’d tell people…” he trails off. Lauren looks anxious.
“Tell people what?” I insist.
“Well, that he sort of influenced Edge Apparel. You know, his idea.” Brody looks worried, like Brooks might jump him just for repeating the words to me.
“WHAT?!” I raise my voice. “But how can he even think that? He had nothing to do with it.”
“That’s dad,” Brooks says.
“Brooks,” I say.
“It’s fine. Let’s go. We’re going out.” He starts for the door. We fall into line behind him, passing waitresses and appetizer trays and empty glasses on vacant tables.
“Out?” I ask.
“Like as in not at the hotel?” Lauren clarifies for me.
“Out as in away from the hotel, yes.” Brody nods.
“OK. Where are we going?” I ask.
You know, four-inch heels are really not conducive to running/keeping up with 6’2” dudes. Just not.
“I know a place. Went there last time I was in Miami.” Brooks says, pushing the button on the elevator. Damn we already back in the high-rise. “We’ll need to change though.”
The elevator is empty. It’s just the four of us.
“Where’re we going? What kind of change of clothes are we talking about?” Lauren asks. We’re almost at our rooms.
“Comfortable night clothes. I don’t know.” Brooks shoves our room key into the door. Red light. He tries again. No-go.
“Fuck!” He shouts. His fist connects with the wall. Crazy how loud shit will echo in an empty hallway.
“Hey, give it to me. I’ll do it.” I take the key and push it into the slot. Green light. I smirk. “A woman’s touch.”
Havana Nights' Style
Brooks and Brody are waiting in front of the giant water wall. Our ride share is already pulled up next to them, waiting. Lauren is wearing a dr
ess so tight if she told me she painted it on I’d believe her. This one too is up her ass, but unlike the one from earlier, it is 100% hoochy-mama.
Thank the lord I decided on the tube top and not my frilly dress. I know I’m not 23 but I’m also not dead, so there’s that.
