Page 88 of Snapshot

“Is he packing?” she asks, snorting in laughter at her own question. “Please tell me he has a tiny penis because he can’t be that hot, rich, and have a giant shlong. God isn’tthatgenerous.”

“Just between friends, right?”

She laughs. “Obviously, the word ‘shlong’ has no place on a business editorial.”

“Yeah, his dick is magical.”

We both break out in laughter. Actually, I’m glad Denny isn’t here. She has a way of railroading conversations. Kat’s easy to talk to, and I can tell she’s even less interested in this business interview than I am.

“Are you into breakfast tacos?” Kat asks.

“Only on days that end in ‘y,’” I reply with a big smile.

“I know a place that serves the best chorizo tacos and spiked horchata. Want to ditch this stuffy office and grab a bite? My treat?”

Right on cue, my stomach rumbles. “Yeah, that sounds great. Do you want me to call my driver to take us? He’s on standby.” My jaw drops. “Wow, that sounded pretentious.”

Kat lets out a deep belly laugh. “Sure did.”

I hang my head. “Okay, honestly? I’m very new to being rich. So far, I’m not loving it. It’s a lot of coordination to do just regular stuff. Last week I had a beat-up piece of shit Honda. This week, I have a driver and an SUV with blackout, bulletproof windows. I already miss normalcy.”

Kat smiles. “Lucky for you, I’m parked right out front, and while I drive a Ford, not a Honda, it is most definitely a piece of shit. You should feel right at home.”

I laugh. “Great. Thank you.”

She pats her thighs before she stands. “All right, let’s go.”

I return her smile, feeling relieved. And here I thought it was going to be difficult to make friends in Miami.

24

Dex

Present Day

Miami

Memories of Grandma flash through my mind as the plane touches down on the tarmac. She was always alone. Even before Grandpa’s health declined, every memory I have of her is by herself. There was always a business trip or a pressing matter. He was skilled at finding an excuse to avoid spending time with his wife and family. I think he regretted it after Mom passed away, but there was no time to rectify anything. By then, Grandma had found comfort in self-sufficiency. She stopped wanting his attention. Grandma didn’t check on Grandpa’s schedule when she arranged trips, parties, or events. She just lived her life regardless of whether Grandpa wanted to be a part of it or not.

I never really pictured getting married, but I know I wouldn’t want my wife to have the small touch of sadness in her eyes that Grandma did. Except it seems I’m following in my grandpa’s exact footsteps.

Lennox has spent an entire week in Miami by herself. My very first big act as her husband was asking her to meet me at our new home and then basically abandoning her to navigate on her own. Crisis after crisis came up. Every time I made arrangements to get me back to Miami, something else popped up.

First, it was flying to L.A. to loop Emmett into my new business idea. Luxe Adventure took a major hit this quarter. We’re going to have to retire a ship if it doesn’t start turning a profit soon. That also would entail letting go of about ten percent of our workforce. Not ideal. So, that agenda was necessary. Next, after three cancellations back-to-back of one of our most prominent port of calls, I had to fly out to the Caribbean to untangle egregiously rising port fees. Further investment can only buy me so much time. Now, we have at least thirty itineraries to rearrange, and I need marketing to package this as an upgrade versus a change in schedule to avoid losing even more revenue.

It's always fires. Sometimes I envy the publicly owned companies who have a team of shareholders and stakeholders to make these decisions together. Privately owned status gives me all the control…and all the burden.

“Thank you, Rhodes. See you next time,” I say to my pilot, Art Jones, as I descend from the jet.

“Good evening, Sir. Looking forward to meeting the missus next trip.”

I nod, remembering the plans I mentioned to Jones on our way to Los Angeles to meet Emmett. I have every intention of taking a week off before the end of the year and treating Lennox to an actual honeymoon.

I hustle to my transportation. Joe stands dutifully next to the passenger door. “Welcome home, Mr. Hessler.”

I smirk at him. “Really? We’re back to this ‘Mr. Hessler’ bullshit?”

He laughs. “Force of habit. Welcome home, Dex.”

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