Chapter 22: The Storms are Rolling In

Zelia was right. This night was nothing to sneeze at. Saz and I sit at the table with Jasper and a few other executives from the project. The rest of the room is filled with a diverse crowd of people. Unlike the art gala, everyone seems to be laughing and familiar with each other. A party of friends versus a party of polite, rich strangers. A roasted pig is being carried by waiters to the center of the room. I can only imagine the taste of roasted pork now. A true Miami celebration.

Jasper downs a shot and slams it on the table. “Must be a hell of a lot different than you’re used to, ain’t it, Mr. Bigshot?”

“I’m just lucky I talked you out of wearing the last outfit you showed me.” Saz takes a sip of his dark-colored drink. Probably Brandy.

“What do you mean, man?” Jasper claps him on the back. “Don’t tell me you think my guayabera suit idea was not a winner. It was all white, just like yours.”

“Your toes were sticking out of the front of your shoes.”