Читать книгу Love Tango - J.M. Jeffries - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Tristan Deveraux was tall and thin. He shared the same facial structure as Roxanne, but his mouth was tight and his eyes held an angry, challenging gleam as though daring the world to cross him. Though he wore a business suit and all his tattoos were covered except for the snake curling up the side of his neck, Nick knew he ordinarily dressed like a thug with gold chains around his neck, no shirt and lots of leather.

Nick had seen Tristan in his parents’ restaurant in the past, but tonight Tristan had a look about him as he approached Nick, a small, pudgy man in tow.

“Nick Torres,” Tristan said, keeping his voice low and pleasant. “Can I have a minute?”

“What can I help you with?” Nick said, annoyed at being approached. Both of the men reeked of whiskey fumes.

Tristan said, “My sister is going to be working with you on Celebrity Dance. She’s a bit of a klutz, so I hope she doesn’t embarrass you too much.”

Nick was almost too surprised to answer. “I have no complaints.” He had no intention of telling this man, even though he acted as though he were still in high school, about anything that happened between him and Roxanne.

Tristan gave him a slight smile. “I hear you and your business partner are planning a revival of Timbuktu. I was hoping we could talk.”

“I make it a policy to not talk business in my parents’ restaurant. This is family time.” He considered calling security and having them eject Tristan, but the man was Roxanne’s brother. Her family was already a huge mess—he didn’t want to add more to the chaos. He said, “Make an appointment with my assistant.”

“I can do that.” Tristan touched an eyebrow in a mock salute. He turned and left, the pudgy man following close behind.

Nick took out his phone and called Mike. “Prepare yourself. Tristan Deveraux is planning to make an appointment to talk to us.”

Mike sighed. “What the hell did you agree to that for?”

“Roxanne. Not that she asked me to.”

The explanation seemed to appease Mike. “That doesn’t sound like fun. Any idea what the man wants?”

“He wants to talk about Timbuktu.”

“That’s still in the planning stages. If he wants a part, we’re a long way from casting.”

“I can’t say. We’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“I’ve been doing some digging into the Deveraux family. They are a hot mess, especially with the IRS breathing down their backs.”

And gossip like that got around. Image was everything in the industry. And his sister Nina was an expert at publicity and could certainly handle any bad press that came his way.

He didn’t want to need her for that, though. Roxanne deserved to be in the spotlight for her own right—not because of her parents’ bad business decisions.

“I’ll let you know when Tristan calls,” Mike said and then disconnected.

Manny Torres made his way through the restaurant toward Nick. He stopped at a few tables to chat briefly with the occupants. Luna el Sol had been a hangout for the Hollywood crowd for decades.

Manny finally reached his son and sat down. “Is that yahoo giving you trouble? He and his parents are loud, obnoxious and lousy tippers.”

“How do you know they’re lousy tippers?” Nick asked.

“I had two waitresses out sick with the flu. I pitched in and waited on his table. He stiffed me on a tip, and I’m a better waiter than a chef and I’m a great chef. And I own the restaurant. I found out from everybody, he and his parents tip lousy anyway, and complain about the service and the food.” Manny pulled out a chair and sat down.

“You don’t need tip money,” Nick said.

“I don’t keep my tips—I put them in the emergency slush fund for the staff. Terry Logan, one of the A-listers, was so happy with my service, he tipped me five large. Told me to buy your mother something pretty. I handed the money back to him and said, ‘Sold.’ Called your mother over and said, ‘Hey, Grace, look what I bought for you.’”