Beyond the Velvet Rope. Tiffany Ashley

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      Elliot considered the messages, making note of the order in which he would return each call. He’d grinned when he’d listened to Nico’s cryptic message. Nico could always be counted on for a good laugh. The mention of Matrix throwing another one of his parties was good reason to call Nico back first.

      Afterward, Elliot planned to call Nick Sinclair, another longtime friend. The two spoke often on the phone, but due to the fact they lived on opposite coasts, they rarely saw each other. He wondered what would bring Nick to Miami this time of the year. Regardless, it would be nice to see his old friend again. Elliot made a mental note to call his comrade as soon as possible. As for Eddie, there was no need to return his call. Elliot would see Eddie within the hour.

      Daria was another issue. Her trips to Miami seemed to be coming more frequently. He would have to talk to her about this. If she was forming expectations about their arrangement, he would have to set the record straight.

      Now dressed, Elliot shot a fleeting glance toward his bed as he left the room. Equipped with the news Nico had delivered, it was doubtful he’d be sleeping in his own bed tonight.

      Romero was waiting for him in the foyer. Elliot was pleased to hear the house was silent; hence, the women were gone. Romero tossed him his car keys. Wordlessly, Elliot stepped onto the sprawling patio which wrapped around the front of his home. Elliot hit the key fob dangling from his keychain, and the headlights of a shiny black Porsche lit up. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he turned the ignition, pausing only long enough for Romero to sling into the passenger seat. Throwing the car into first gear, pebbles kicked up as Elliot sped off Star Island.

      A short time later, they pulled in front of a four-story building. On its broad side, a large sign read Club Babylon in sleek silver letters. On a typical night, the street would be lined with cars, and the sidewalks crowded with eager partygoers. But it was daylight, many hours before the club opened for business. Parking steps from he front entrance, Elliot tossed his car keys to Romero and strolled into the inside like he owned the place; which he did.

      * * *

      With Romero close on his heels, Elliot crossed the now empty dance floors, and jogged up the steps which led to his office. It was a large airy room, with stylish low-slung furniture and many shiny surfaces. It was positioned in a corner of the building. The architecture enabled it to jut out at an angle so that it was suspended over the main dance floor. With three of the walls made of glass, it allowed Elliot an unfiltered view of the club. Presently, the room glowed a dreamy orange hue, a reflection from the stage mood lights; and a clear indication the technicians were testing the lights before showtime.

      There was a cluster of men waiting for Elliot when he arrived. He nodded to each before taking a seat behind his desk. He punched a series of numbers on his speaker phone, and instantly two investors were conferenced into the meeting.

      “Hello, everyone,” Elliot began. “Let’s not waste time. We have a lot to cover in a few short hours.” He looked down at his watch. “It’s 3:00 p.m. now. We can break for lunch around six.” He turned to a thin, freckle-faced man seated on a sofa across from him. “Eddie, where do we stand with the financials? I want cost analysis for the added security, transportation and entertainment. Let’s hold off on the marketing for now. We need to make sure we can handle the traffic we currently bring in.” Inclining his head toward Eddie, he said, “Please begin.”