Page 136 of I Think They Love You

Denz nearly slips off the bed trying to sit up. Vista de Atlas is the retirement party venue. Ten thousand square feet of pure luxury. Atlas has hosted movie premiere after-parties, the governor’s birthday, Audrey Hudson’s wedding reception. Tomorrow is a full-circle moment in Kenneth Carter’s career.

“They’ve been conducting routine maintenance around thefacility in preparation,” Kenneth explains. “Minor things, I was promised. But the room above ours sprung a leak during repairs.” Another annoyed breath comes through the phone. “It’s flooded.”

Denz’s stomach freefalls into his ass.

“Flooded,” he repeats.Shit. Fuck shit fuck. He looks around his bedroom as if some magical answer is going to appear on his bedside table or underneath his wrinkled boxers on the floor. “Should we move to another location?”

“Less than thirty-six hours before the party?”

“Um.”

“What’s your plan? Email all two hundred guests? Inform everyone in a Facebook post?”

Denz was leaning more toward a less corrupt social media platform, actually.

“No, no,” he rushes out, rubbing one eye. His hangover is mutating into a migraine. “Maybe I can—”

“Don’t bother,” Kenneth says, cutting him off. “I’ve been on the phone with management all morning.”

It’s another blunt reminder that his dad,the CEO,starts his mornings at 7:00A.M.like a motivated executive while Denz sleeps off bad alcohol choices, naked.

“They’re offering us the rooftop,” Kenneth informs him.

Denz has only been to Vista de Atlas a handful of times. Once for a party hosted by a hot Netflix star who slid into his DMs with a personal invite to tour the VIP lounge.Privately. He vaguely remembers the rooftop space with its panoramic views of the Atlanta skyline. It’s smaller than the space they reserved, but just as breathtaking.

A car door opens in Kenneth’s background. Words are exchanged with the driver. The whoosh of a morning breeze comes and goes, replaced by more voices, urgent greetings and apologies.

“Dad?”

“I’m at Atlas to meet with vendors. We’ll need to rearrange the layout and alter the menus…” His dad goes on like he’s notupendingmonthsof work in a single breath. “You need to get down here. Now.”

“Me?”

Denz struggles to keep up. His brain’s a PC from the Stone Age still running Windows Vista, but Kenneth’s communicating with him like he’s a MacBook. It’s too much.

“What about Kami?”

“Tied up,” his dad answers. “She’ll be here later. In the meantime, she’s sending Jordan.”

“Should I send Eric?”

“He’s working on another project for me.” Kenneth’s next breath comes out agitated, bordering on dismissive. “This is what a real CEO does, Denzel. Drops everything. Ensures every event detail goes off without a hitch. He manages from the front line, not from his Peloton. Or his bedroom.”

Denz winces. His dad always knows. He squeezes the bridge of his nose, the pressure building quicker than he can react.

“You need to be here,” Kenneth reiterates, as if he needed it.

Denz rubs his goatee, which is in serious need of a trim. Vista de Atlas is on the other side of downtown. Traffic on a Friday is going to be hell, even at this hour.

“Give me, like, forty minutes?”

“Make it less. Time’s essential, Denzel.”

Kenneth hangs up.

Denz allows himself ten seconds to sag against his headboard. Ten seconds to scream into a pillow. Then, he’s up.

He skips reading the other notifications, including the three texts from Braylon he’s more than happy to avoid. He rolls out of bed. He stubs his big toe twice while brushing his teeth and searching for clean clothes. In the shower, he whispers a prayer to whatever god is listening. He desperately needs to sober up before seeing his dad.

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