I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
“Still no women falling for your charms?” Tomas asked.
“Not one,” Quin admitted. But it wasn’t like he’d been trying. “Maybe next time.”
“With the hours you’ve been putting in at work lately, I don’t know when that’ll be.”
“Jesus, not you, too?” Quin asked. “Luis was just busting my balls about work, too.”
Tomas looked down at his phone. “The car’s here,” he announced, and turned back to Quin. “So, you’re really not coming with us?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m just going to finish my drink and head home. I still have to pack.”
“Speedos, sunscreen and condoms, man. It’s all you’ll need,” Luis told him.
Quin laughed. “Thanks for the tip. I guess I’ll have to pick up my Speedos from the cleaners,” he said as they slapped hands.
“All right. Have a good trip.”
When he was alone, he left the couch where they’d been seated and carried his glass out onto the nearby patio. Thankfully, it was empty, not packed like the rest of the club, and the noise of the music was mostly contained to the inside. It was a typically warm night, but at least there was a cool breeze off the ocean. He took a deep breath, pulling the salty air into his lungs and letting it cool him from the inside. Quin loved Miami. There was no other place he’d rather live. He gazed back into the club, watched people dancing, flirting, pressing their bodies together in movements that might be considered lewd if not for the thin pieces of clothing between them. The club was getting wild, as it normally did the closer the night came to the morning. Normally Quin would be in there with them. But lately, it just didn’t appeal to him. Maybe he was just tired from work. Maybe the thought of being the family screwup, having ruined a big deal for the company, was weighing heavily on him. He’d felt terrible, of course, but it was the way Reid had spoken to him, told him he’d ruined everything they’d worked for. The cold disappointment in Gemma’s eyes.
He put his glass down for a moment, just long enough to pull a cigar from his breast pocket and put it between his lips. Like most clubs, Club Culture was nonsmoking, but alone on the patio, he thought there was nothing wrong with breaking a little rule and taking a quick puff. Lighting up earned him a stern look from the floor manager, who was watching him from inside, but when Quin waved, the man recognized him, then smiled and moved on.
No club manager was going to hassle Quin Rexford in South Beach, not so long as he was supplying them with Rexford Rum, hosting brand-awareness parties and inviting the celebrities and athletes he counted as friends. His business and his connections let him slide with the rules a little. Quin puffed on his cigar.
Quin yawned, taking out his cell phone. Time to call his own car, he supposed. But before he could navigate to the car-service app, something stopped him.
He watched through the open door of the patio as, inside the club, a group of women were being escorted to the VIP table closest to him. While three of the women laughed, the fourth wore a frown on her gorgeous face. She was the one who held his attention, though. The woman mustered a brief smile for the hostess and thanked her for the table before she sat, crossing her long legs. He could tell her friends were trying to engage her, make her happy, and while she appeared gracious, Quin could tell that she—like him—just wasn’t feeling the club tonight. But that wasn’t the only thing they had in common. He looked more closely, narrowing his eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured to himself. He and the woman—they used to have everything in common. Watching her, Quin’s mood quickly turned around. He decided he didn’t want to go home and he waved to one of the cocktail waitresses inside.
“Could you bring a bottle of Rexford Premium to that table over there,” he asked the server when she joined him on the patio. “And don’t tell them where it came from.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Rexford,” she said with a smile before walking away.
Quin watched as the VIP servers brought over the bottle and mixes and all the sparklers and regalia that came with the purchase of a 500-dollar bottle of rum. The girls were all surprised and her friends