“No celebrations. I’m working at my Secrète de St. Barth property.” He’d stopped taking time off years ago.
“Seriously, bro?”
“St. Barth’s busy season picks up soon. I’ll stay at my beach house alone, clear my head and manage the resort.”
“You work too much.”
“And you fuck around too much.” Warner took another swig and asked, “And what circuit party is on your calendar for the thirty-first?”
“The babes and I are jettin’ to Algarve, Portugal. Invite’s open if you change your mind.”
A reluctant male model, pre-body-ink era, Sheldon’s glamour funds hadn’t run out yet, but were getting close. Similar to Warner, Sheldon was tall, handsome and striking even at a young age. He’d caught a Vogue Hommes International fashion photographer’s attention in Milan and his jet-set life soared. A few years later he had returned to the United States and had mooched here and there ever since. Warner tried to get Sheldon to come work with him at Truman Enterprises, but Truman Tribeca, which wasn’t meant to be a test but was, failed him. Warner figured his brother would screw around until his ever-in-demand fuck-stick fell off. He hoped it would be in Algarve, Portugal.
“Thanks, I should get going. Don’t forget to buy Mom and Dad a Christmas gift. You forgot last year.” They spoke their goodbyes, and he went for the elevator.
In the lobby, the doorman approached. “Mr. Truman, I have a package for you.”
“Morning, Sam.” He spotted the flowers at the concierge desk. “Again?”
“The florist dropped this arrangement off about thirty minutes ago.” Sam knew Rielle wasn’t permitted anywhere near the building. Her restraining order prohibited her from all contact, which included sending flowers. This was the third arrangement this week. A silver-mirrored vase enclosed snowy-white hydrangea, blood-red roses and lilies. He reached for the card in Sam’s hand. The note read, “Warner, baby, I miss you. Let’s spend the holidays together. All my love, Rielle.” A few months ago, he might have felt nauseous reading this card. This morning, he felt nothing. “Re-gift these to your family.” He pushed the flowers back upon his doorman and tore the card up.
“Mr. Truman, rejecting gifts is bad luck on your part. You should accept—”
“Throw the flowers away then, Sam.” He didn’t regret his orders. Although Sam’s facial reaction made him question himself.
“Okay, okay, I’ll give them to the missus.” Sam backed down. “My wife sends her best, and thank you again for the generous holiday bonus. You’ve helped put my oldest through City College.”
“My pleasure, enjoy your day.” Warner stepped out in the minus-ten degrees and then into his waiting limo.
Chapter Two
Thank You, Brigham Young University, for Kiki
Times Square, New York, NY
“Sweet Jesus balls of justice. Look at those nuts. Dang!” Taddy Brill sat in her Herman Miller chair with Viveca Farnworth to her right and Blake Morgan III to her left. Careful not to smudge her eye makeup, she gripped the binoculars. Squinting out Brill, Inc.’s forty-fourth-floor windows across the street at the new high-rise, Taddy saw into someone’s hotel room window. A man in full view was shaving his balls. One leg up on the sink, spread out, and from what she could tell, the dude concentrated on his pecker. “Why isn’t he shaving his body in the shower like everyone else?”
“Ingrown hairs perhaps,” her executive vice president, Blake, replied. They’d met at the Avon Porter Academy and went on to the same college together. He’d helped her form the agency and run it.
“I love having a hotel next to our office,” Taddy confessed. Despite the high-rise’s holiday lights mounted on the windows, she could still see inside the rooms.
Truman Times Square took New York City union laborers two years to erect and stood at sixty stories. It was the tallest hotel in Manhattan. Room rates started in the thousands and had a one-year wait list. The property premiered as the world’s tenth most expensive hotel, according to Luxury TV. This year it had secured a spot on the Condé Nast Traveler Gold List and the AAA Five Diamond Award list. The best thing about the property proved to be the voyeuristic views, which her executives liberally took in.
Taddy continued to watch the guy in the bathroom with a razor to his scrotum. “That dude is a Big Daddy. Must be six foot three. God I love ‘em tall and beefy.” Her red acrylics used the zoom feature on the binoculars for a closer view.
“I can’t believe you two bitches do this at eight every morning,” Viveca Farnworth, aka Vive, exclaimed between Bloody Mary gulps. She rented office space from Taddy one flight up and owned Debauchery magazine. A few minutes ago, Vive came downstairs for her breakfast—vodka. Since the seventh grade, Vive had existed in their social circle. Known by many, Vive was a bestie to Taddy, Blake and their other friend Lex. It was the four of them forever.
“Watching others is the closest thing we have to a sex life.” Blake didn’t make any apologies for his frigid gay husband. “Taddy, at your nine o’clock on the fifty-ish floor, do you see what I see?”
She glanced over to catch a lank, hung lad jacking off, alone. “Poor business traveler, he’s by himself with no one to release ‘em. I should walk over there and bring him some freshly squeezed orange juice.” Taddy laughed. She preferred sex at sunrise where she found a man’s stamina stronger. “With extra pulp,” she added.
Vive let out a loud sigh. “Blake, can I borrow your peepers when you’re done?”
He ignored Vive’s requests. “Taddy, look at the sweet couple on the thirty-ish floor.”
She scanned down to where Blake pointed and stood in her Chanel pumps. “Ooh yeah, I’d so love to be her.” A dude gave his girl the ultimate female fantasy. “Why can’t I have a man who will wake up with me in bed and do that? I’m so jelly.”
“For fuck’s sake, let me see,” Vive griped.
Blake continued, “He’s massaging her toes while she drinks her coffee and reads the newspaper in bed.”
“Speaking of coffee, where the hell is the newbie with my espresso?” Taddy craved another caffeine shot. Her busy week was packed with wrinkle cream press launches and branding overpriced handbags. She needed to keep her energy on high octane.