Yuki's Luck Page 7

  His missed southern hospitality, football games, his friends and his family. Pursing the next big deal made him a wealthy man and garnered him a seat at today's meeting, apparently he wasn't doing too bad.

  "What happens in this room, stays in this room." Cameron scanned the room stopping at each attendee personally. Damian nodded his agreement.

  "Very well. I've invited each of you here because Bruce and I have decided to launch Rockstar Entertainment January 1st with the debut of Marques' album." Cameron stood with his hands flat on the table. "We invited each of you because you possess a skill set that we need. You are the absolute best of the best and in exchange for your gifts and talents we are prepared to offer you equal partnership in RSE."

  "Besides friendship, what made you select the men in this room?" Damian glanced at the men huddled around the table. He sat amongst friends, which was a welcomed treat. But he felt out of place.

  "It's simple. You all are at the top of your game. I want to bring business and fire back to the music industry. Back to when our fathers were rock stars and real artistry was king." Cameron stopped and faced Damian. "RSE artists will have career longevity of David Bowie, the pop appeal of Michael Jackson, the swag of James Brown, and the soul of Marvin Gaye."

  Damian always loved music, however, his specialty was real estate and development. He'd been groomed under his father and now he traveled as a freelance consultant flipping and developing residential and commercial property.

  "Gentlemen, we have six months to launch the label that will put this industry on its ass." Cameron declared.

  For the next four hours Damian listened as they laid out their very ambitious business plan to introduce RSE as an independent record label and artist management firm. The idea of equal partnership intrigued him. Less traveling and more time with his family in Atlanta topped his list. A family he felt disconnected from, they talked by phone frequently but his father's declining health made Damian question his professional choices.

  "To the man of the hour." All eyes were now on him.

  Cameron dropped a thick folder on the table and pushed it in his direction. It slid across the polished mahogany wood table; Damian stopped the file folder before it reached the glass of iced water sitting on the decorative coaster in front of him.

  "I'll give you a few minutes to review it."

  Damian sat forward and extended his arms to settle into reading through the documents, maybe this would make sense of it all. He glanced around once again, he only worked with the best. Yet it was rare for him to sit amongst a table of old money. They all were second and third generation wealth. Something told him this was going to be a big one.

  Focusing on the task at hand he opened the folder and his breath caught at the sight of a brown skinned beauty. Her eyes leapt off the photograph and the voices of the men around the table faded into a muffled mumble.

  He picked up the picture and rested his forearm against the table, examining the rich hue of her honey kissed eyes. They twinkled as if the photographer had told a joke. His eyes swept lower wondering if remnants of her laughter would show in her smile.

  No, the smirk awaiting his inspection was raw sexiness, inviting him closer. He glanced back up at her eyes and decided she was seducing the camera. From her soft pout, to the long regal neck, to the soft waves flipped to the side resting on her shoulder.

  "Damian." The edge of Cameron's call cut through the haze of the electric picture sending his senses into overdrive.

  "Yes." Damian dropped the picture like a hot potato.

  “I think I need to start again." The men around the table chuckled, the joke was on him. He turned his attention to Cameron, wishing he could erase the sexy pout from his mind. "We need to establish two compounds for a dual headquarters. One based here in Atlanta and the other in Houston."

  Now Damian caught Cameron’s vision. "That's why you need me."

  "Yes, sir. We haven't found an appropriate location here, and we thought we had a perfect spot in Houston but it seems we've hit a glitch and I can't babysit this."

  Damian could see all types of potential for this arrangement. He would have equal ownership in RSE and access to the artists for future contracts. Not to mention the commercial development he'd add to his portfolio.

  "The file contains the details about the property and Imani Wright. She is owner and operator of Harmony Dance, a hold over tenant in the Houston property."

  Cameron ran through the facts like an ordinary, boring grocery list. Nothing about the heat in Imani's eyes said ordinary or boring. Damian dropped his gaze again to the folder and found her bewitchery gaze waiting for him. He pushed the picture away with the tip of his index finger.

  "We attempted to use a standard real estate agent for this portion of our plan. He negotiated on our behalf and then after that it seemed to go over our heads."

  "Do you own the property or are you still in negotiations?"

  "We own it."

  Damian nodded. "Then what's the problem?"

  "It seems Miss Wright is the last tenant from the previous owner and she hasn’t paid rent in, last count, six months." He let out a long frustrated breath. "We were told that all tenants were provided notices to vacate and were given a 90 day notice."

  "All except one." Damian stated.

  "Exactly. We're at a loss as to how we should proceed. It is an inner city, non-profit serving minority students. You get my drift. We can't just swoop in and boot her out.”

  “Not and keep your reputation in tact.”

  “You got it.”

  “We have plans for the property that doesn’t involved managing tenants. And so, here you are."

  Damian nodded and flipped through the pages skimming the dates, figures, and he realized the plight before them. He leaned back computing the issues and several exit strategies for RSE.

  "The way I see it, you need to sell the property to me. The last thing you need is a woman running to the press with her cute kids pointing the finger at Rockstar Entertainment and derailing the launch." He looked down again noting the address. "Let me fly out and see how we can best resolve this."

  Damian made billions cleaning up real estate messes—residential or commercial, small town or big city, domestic or abroad.

  "Done. None of our names or RSE can be attached to this situation. We have too much riding on our first impression. We'll also expect you to handle the Atlanta property and any future real estate matters. But there's a catch." Cameron lowered to his chair.

  "There always is." Damian crossed his hands over the folder and faced Cameron and Bruce.

  "We need this finalized by the close of the year."

  Imani Wright approached Harmony Dance. She parked her gifted Toyota in the spot marked "Director". The aged signed leaned to the side, but it was hers. The cool air pumping icicles in her car was the only reliable function of her twenty year old car, which was much more than she could say about her studio. She turned the fan up to maximum.

  Relief coursed through her body at seeing the door free and clear of any notifications. She'd occupied her studio rent-free for almost six months. Every day driving up was like a man walking towards death row.

  "No news is good news," Imani whispered and took a long drink of her 44 oz sweet tea.

  "You really need to get your life in order," Adrianna Martinez said, grabbing Imani's cup, taking a long drink too. They sat in the car together staring at the front door.

  "Negative Nancy please leave your comments to yourself. I'll take every day they give me." She was her best friend, partner-in-crime, and fickle unpaid employee. As usual, she was tap-dancing on Imani’s last nerve.

  "All you have to do is start charging them. What other studio allows students to attend classes tuition free?” Adrianna picked up the cup again and Imani snatched her tea back. She refused to share the last of her cold drink and listen to her pessimistic comments.

  "I'm not other studios and I won't kick my students out because the
ir parents can't afford tuition. As long as I have lights and a building, they'll have a place to dance."

  Adrianna shook her head. They had this talk at least once a week. But Imani wasn't budging. Dance always made everything better in her life. She planned to give the gift of dance to whomever for as long as the good Lord allowed.

  "How long are we going to sit in this car?"

  Imani would show her. She turned off the ignition and reached in the back seat for her bag. She'd needed at least two clean shirts to absorb the sweat from dancing all night. She stepped out and tossed her bag across her body. Adrianna followed stopping to straighten the sign with no luck.

  Fall in Houston, Texas was a scorcher. Four seasons did not exist in Texas, it was more like spring, summer, summer squared, and hurricane season. And late September was summer squared season with a slight chance of hurricanes. Today was just plain ole hot. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as they approached the door.

  Imani inserted the key into the glass door and turned until she heard the click of the lock. She pulled and the metal rubbing against metal grunted but didn't budge. The door, the raggedy building, and the god-awful property was like a hell-hole on steroids. But it was all she could afford.

  She planted her feet and the door groaned in compliance. The sweltering heat from inside rushed out.

  "I quit!" Adrianna squealed as steam turned her straightened hair back to curly.

  Imani folded over laughing. "You can't quit. Grab the trash can over there." She propped open the door. “Don't turn on the lights. Let me get the fans."

  Imani went about cooling the place off. She dropped her bag and set up four large fans in the studio. She connected her iPad to the stereo and turned on some music.

  Adrianna sat in front of a fan like a diva.

  "So dramatic."

  Imani went outside to her trunk and grabbed two bags of ice and walked in to see Adrianna rolling out the five-gallon beverage coolers. She unscrewed the tops and went out back to get the water hose.

  Imani poured the ice inside the containers and added water with the hose. Then they each grabbed a side and placed them on a six-foot table in the corner.

  She knew her diva would kick into gear. The woman had a mouth and she quit at least once a week. Imani appreciated her.

  Her studio was hot, raggedy, and much too small but it embodied her dream. For now. She shook off the thought; they would stay until the laws kicked them out. Besides, who in their right mind would pay for this property? She shook her head. They should pay her for staying.

  "Miss Imani come quick." She turned towards the sound of Tiffany’s voice as the students arrived for class. The panic in her voice made the hair on Imani's neck stand. She ran through the door just as Taj took a punch to the jaw. Her heart dropped as his slim body tumbled to the hot pavement.

  "Get your asses out of here or I'll call the police." The gang of teenagers laughed and ran in the opposite direction. "And don't come back."

  Imani fell to the ground scraping her knees. "Taj baby what happened?"

  "I'm okay." He pushed up and out of her embrace.

  Imani wanted to scream. Why did a fourteen year old boy have to grow up so fast? To live like a grown man? And how long would she be able to convince him to return to the studio instead of the streets?

  "What happened?" Tears stung her eyes.

  "Nothing. I'll be back for Tiff."

  Tiffany and Taj Harris were siblings and as he turned to run after the boys that used his body like a punching bag, Imani had to think quick.

  "If you leave, take Tiffany with you." Her voice trembled from the helplessness storming inside her. She hated using Tiffany as a pawn but it was a gamble she had to take. Him running after those boys would only lead to trouble.

  Taj’s rage filled eyes challenged her. "She can't go where I'm going."

  "Then you need to stay here." Tiffany ducked behind Imani clutching a handful of her t-shirt, she didn't want to lose a single one of her kids; not on her watch.

  Children in the inner city lived fighting battle after battle. If it wasn't fighting bullies it was looking over their shoulders for cops. The four walls of Harmony Dance provided relief, if only for a moment from their battles filling their lives with unconditional love, a safe space, and dance.

  "Don't nobody wanna go in that hot-ass studio." He grimaced.

  "That's cause Harmony is fiyah!"

  Tiffany laughed. "Miss Imani that was corny."

  Imani laughed with her, if it meant Taj was safe then corny she'd be. "Come on, I have some cold ice water in my hot-ass studio, want a cup?"

  "So lame.” Taj laughed.

  Imani wrapped her arms around their shoulders guiding them back to the studio. The other dancers were trickling in. "Put your cups in the trash. It's time to circle up."

  Harmony Dance was her life. She had to find a way to save their building. But first, it was time to dance.

  2

  Damian entered Kenn’s Bar and Grill, a dimly lit sports bar and eatery outside of Downtown Houston. The early November weather was slightly warmer and didn’t require an overcoat unlike Atlanta at this time of year. He stepped to the side of the doorway, shaking off the bite of the cool breeze in the heated interior.

  "Good afternoon."

  "Same to you." Damian smiled at the waiter, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the drastic change in lighting.

  He stretched his neck to look around the room, scanning for the perfect seat. Not too close to the big screen TVs. He spotted an empty booth in the far corner and he made his way across the room, scooting past tables and occupied chairs in the aisle. The booth would provide plenty of space to spread out and work for a while. He looked over his shoulder at the bar, he was close enough to see and hear but not be seen. Glancing at his watch, he had about thirty minutes to get comfortable before the bar opened.

  He placed his briefcase on the table and unloaded his files leaving an area free to eat. The place was quiet but it picked up closer to noon. The food was decent and they offered free WiFi. He had a stack of contracts to review and his iPad for research. Since arriving in Houston he'd checked into the hotel and connected with a few colleagues. He needed people on the ground with active state licenses in law and real estate to expedite his plans in a moments notice.

  Satisfied with his temporary office setup he removed his jacket and draped it over his briefcase in the seat across from him. He unfastened his sleeve buttons and rolled back the stiff cuffs. He rarely exposed his tattoos but the dark room made it hard to see plus what was the likelihood that he'd see one of his business contacts in this neighborhood.

  Damian sat and reviewed the menu. Following his meeting with Cameron and his new business partners, they laid out the full rollout, each man taking responsibility for his tasks.

  By the end of September, an attorney drafted a limited partnership agreement through the end of the year. All parties approved the terms and conditions of their association. Then they synchronized their tasks and calendars to meet for a group signing of the official partnership agreement for Rockstar Entertainment on January 1 in Houston.

  Damian’s first order of business was locating a temporary office in Atlanta. The RSE partner handling music production and artist development, Bruce Daniels, had a private studio but Damian wanted them to make a strong first impression. Even in a temporary space.

  He hit the ground reestablishing old contacts and nurturing new ones and secured an amazing location in midtown. It was smaller than they needed but it would serve as their makeshift headquarters, with a studio and office space in a freestanding building structure.

  By mid-October Damian closed on the midtown location and leased it back to the partnership with the option to buy. He flew in an interior designer from New York to transform the vacant space into the official Rockstar Entertainment compound. It had to be grand yet simple, edgy and classic. She exceeded expectations with the modern yet classic decor in mo
notones with splashes of color. Damian also commissioned the artwork for an up-and-coming artist of the rockstar legends RSE esteemed.

  Signing the temporary contracts felt like the first real tether back to the United States and one step closer to establishing a sense of normalcy for him. The partnerships would ensure his frequent presence in Atlanta and hopefully set the foundation to reconnect with his parents and siblings. They lived there and he called it home but in so many ways the words never quite felt appropriate, more rote than real.

  He left Atlanta with plans to wash, rinse, and repeat in Houston. He had given himself a tentative deadline of early December before returning to meet with RSE again.

  "Good afternoon Mr. Hughes. Would you like your usual?"

  Damian glanced over the menu to find Adrianna smiling down at him. She'd served him for most of the week. Today he hoped to finally see....

  "Imani." He whispered internally commending himself for selecting the perfect seat. She walked in, almost running, and slipped behind the bar area, disappearing into an adjoining room.

  "Sir?" He exhaled a measured breath looking up into her questioning eyes.

  "I'm sorry. Yes, the same and add a glass of water."

  He closed the menu and placed it in her outstretched hand. The chatter in the bar was noticeably louder as more patrons filled the cozy space. Honestly he didn't want another turkey club sandwich, but he needed time to see the woman who'd captured too much of his mental space.

  Adrianna walked toward the kitchen and Damian sat back and watched Imani. He had arrived in town Monday along with his assistant Mason. And for the past five days Damian arrived at least an hour before their scheduled meeting hoping to see Imani in person. He glanced at his watch; he had almost an hour before Mason’s arrival, which gave him time to observe her without interruption.

  He leaned back in the booth turning to hide his face in the shadows. Damian earned a moniker—The Shark. He never agreed with the predatory likeness associated with it. It wasn’t attractive, but spine tingling and centered on his approach. His strategy started with learning his clients inside and out, not through private detectives. He gathered intel personally. His hands-on approach gave him the agility to move unseen, unheard, covered in an element of surprise.