To say that Philly’s Society Elite and the Fifth Avenue Contingent were slumming it tonight was an understatement, but as far as I was concerned, they’d never looked better. Furs and jewels had been abandoned in favor of fair-trade garments and accessories. Hair normally pinned up had tumbled free into loose waves. And noses typically high in the air had come down tonight. All who attended our function embraced one another—and those in need—with the spirit of support.
Standing in a quiet corner in the shadows toward the back, my father, Ben, and I surveyed a scene that through our innovation, belief, and financial commitment had transformed Loading Zone from a rough idea scrawled on paper one night in my economics class into a successful reality.
We watched guests continue to file in as our few minutes of private celebration wound down before the public party revved up. My dad, dressed in fair-trade black linen pants and white embroidered dress shirt, raised his beer. “Gentlemen, we did a fine job. Smart decisions, great marketing, and imaginative operating practices have turned this place into something to be proud of. Congratulations, sons.”
We clinked bottle necks before I took a long pull from my Fat Tire, enjoying praise from a man who didn’t shell it out often.
Needing to find calm in the growing buzz of energy of the room, my gaze drifted over to Hannah. She stood near the end of the bar. Her and Daniel maneuvered her cake a safe distance away from the bar edge.
Hannah looked beautiful tonight. Her slim black dress had a high hemline, exposing the olive skin of her toned thighs. The material was cinched by a belt resting just below her breasts, then rose up over them, covering her curves only as far as was publicly decent.
My thoughts were anything but.
However I remained a patient man. Tonight’s focus was on others: the charity, the guests, the employees. There’d be plenty of time later to show Hannah how much I loved her dress.
I checked my watch and confirmed we were twenty minutes from the event start time. “You two ready? We’ve got a party to run.”
“Let’s do this.” Ben finished his beer, placed it on the tray of a passing waitress, and stepped onto the dance floor, mingling his way through the crowd.
Before I immersed myself in host obligations, I veered off and pressed behind Hannah, gently gripping her hips as I pulled her back into me. Dropping my face against the side of her neck, I growled low, “You look delicious tonight. I love it when you wear your hair wild. Reminds me of how sexy you look after hours of bed play.”
She laughed softly and shivered. With a slight turn of her head, she glanced up at me with a warm smile. “You look incredible yourself. I’ve never seen you in linen.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt guy.”
She turned fully in my arms and stared up at me. In slow motion, she drew a finger along the muscle in my forearm, then bit her lip when she tucked the tip of it under the rolled cuff below my elbow. “It’s not the attire, but the man underneath I see and want.”
I smacked her ass, then kissed her deep and slow. “When the public party ends, our private party will begin.” With a sigh, I planted my hands on her shoulders and separated her body from mine before we got carried away. Others first. “The cake looks perfect, Maestro. Thank you.”
While we lingered for our last private seconds, I paid closer attention to the cake’s details. A likeness of our club—in all its rust-and-chrome, shabby-chic glory—stood on one end. On the other side, she’d depicted dark inner-city alleys, complete with towering buildings with graffiti painted on the walls. But both ends were barren of people. The closer your gaze drew to the center, the more people populated the scene. The middle featured a park, full of life from the green grass, trees, and geese floating on the lake to the people engaged in various park activities, like Frisbee, a softball game, and a picnic.
“This truly is a masterpiece, Hannah.”
A member of the press we’d invited stepped into view, edging behind the bar. “Mind if I start taking photos?”
For the next few minutes we posed for some of the night’s publicity shots. The party hadn’t officially started, but we were close. I took a deep breath and relaxed as much as possible for the short time with Hannah before I needed to migrate over to the DJ booth.
Guest headcount had almost reached capacity, but people sat at tables or stood on the dance floor, waiting. The low-volume soundtrack streaming through the speakers kept them all tame, and the waitresses hustled, making sure everyone had a drink in hand.
Once the obligatory photos were done, I glanced around and spotted Kristen waving us over. I put a hand at Hannah’s back and urged her toward my family and our friends who’d gathered up in the larger VIP section. “C’mon, Maestro. Showtime.”
Darren manned the DJ booth in the far corner of the room, and I wound through the crowd on the dance floor as quickly as possible to join him. At my nod, he faded the music down, then gave me the microphone.
I scanned the crowd, which hushed as the lights dimmed over them and brightened on me. I tapped the mic once to verify the thing worked before speaking. “We all want to thank you for coming here tonight. This weekend is special for us as we pass a milestone. One year ago today, Loading Zone opened its doors, marking the transformation from a decrepit, abandoned warehouse into a successful business.
“Not only did we provide valuable jobs—thumbing our nose at the local down economy—but we included each employee in a portion of the profits, making them a part of our family. And we’ve all worked hard to make every guest who comes here feel at home.”
A rolling wave of cheers and applause thundered through the room.
“But tonight is about more than Loading Zone. And the celebration serves as more than tonight’s good time. On the invitation, you were encouraged to wear fair-trade attire, from your clothes and jewelry to your handbags and shoes. For some, you only had to go to your closets. For many, you had to shop for the very first time from merchants who support fair wages and living conditions.
“What you may not know is that we make every effort possible to do the same in the running of our business: where we buy our alcohol, what decorated the bar you’re standing in, the cutting-edge bathrooms my sister Kiki designed. We even scrutinize what goes inside them, down to the toilet paper that wipes your ass.”
Laughter erupted. I grinned, then shrugged unapologetically.
“I want you all to think about where you buy your goods from, not just tonight, but every day. Every one of your purchasing decisions can make a difference in someone’s life halfway around the world.”
I glanced at my mom, nodding to her. “My mother, Victoria Michaelson heads a charity that supports fair trade as one element of its cause. One hundred percent of your two hundred and fifty dollar entrance ticket goes toward her foundation.”
Kristen approached the DJ booth, and I leaned down while she stretched up and whispered into my ear. My eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded. I whispered back a question, to which she nodded again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Kristen’s just informed me that not only have the ticket sales raised half a million dollars. But through additional private donations of guests tonight, and through our website, we’ve topped one million dollars in total donations. And I’ve confirmed that the donation banner will remain active on both Loading Zone’s and Invitation Only’s websites for you to contribute on an ongoing basis.”
Still astounded, I blinked. “Wow. Tonight has turned into more than any of us had hoped for. Your generosity never ceases to amaze me. Oh, one more thing before we knock this party off the hook. Please take a moment to appreciate the cake designed and created for tonight’s event by Invitation Only’s very own Hannah Martin.
“She illustrated perfectly what’s transpiring here tonight and what all of us can do afterward: leave our comfort zones and step toward one another. Life isn’t about business. It isn’t about buildings, neighborhoods you were raised in, or the social class you think you ‘belong to.’ No” —I shook my head, scanning the crowd of people who nodded in agreement— “life is about the people you choose to include, showing them what kindness means.”
I paused, pegging a hard stare out to the crowd. “Life is about love.”
Whistles and cheers erupted louder than before. Those who’d been seated stood and clapped.
I tilted my head as I glanced at Darren.
He nodded.
“Darren, drop our guests a heavy beat.”
Thumping bass pounded a rhythm over the cheers, and the guests began to dance. Even those seated in the booths and at the tables stood, joining in.
My gaze scanned the room until it landed squarely on Hannah. Up in the elevated VIP section, where my parents, sisters, Jason, Mase, Ben and their girls were, one stood out among the rest—my girl.
As her eyes met mine, she smiled. My heart thudded at how happy she looked.
I began to make my way through the thirty feet of crowd toward her until I was waylaid by a guest. After a short conversation, another detained me.
“Congratulations, man. Such a great event.” Walter Simmons held his hand out.
I clasped it in a firm shake. “Thanks, Walt.” I looked beyond him, searching for his wife. “Where’s Cindy?”
He chuckled low as he shook his salt-and-peppered head. “You’ve created a monster. She’s showing off her new fair-trade ‘pashmina’ that matches her skirt. All the girls are taking notes.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Responsible shoppers? I’m down with that.”
When I glanced back up at Hannah with helpless raised brows, she laughed, waving me off with the back of her hand to take my time. Kiki leaned toward her before they both glanced toward Darren.
Walt leaned in, a hand on my shoulder. “Let me know what else I can do. With no kids and a growing portfolio, Cindy and I are looking for charities to add into our estate planning.”
“You have my mom’s number, right?”
He nodded.
“Give her a call. She’s got the paperwork to provide to your attorneys.”
“Will do.”
Turned loose into the crowd again, I got several more congratulations and pats on the back before I made it up to the VIP section. The girls huddled together with Hannah on one end of the couch, Ben, Mase, and Jason sprawled out a few feet over. Mase had his arms stretched wide on the back cushions, feet kicked out.
My dad greeted me with a nod, but Mom nearly tackled me over in a hug.
“Unbelievable turnout. And those donations?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
At her speechlessness, I drew her into a hug. “I know, Mom. We’ve got great friends backing us and the cause.”
Jillian, our VIP waitress for the night, walked into my line of sight holding a tray filled with opened beers, one of them my Fat Tire. I broke away from Mom, scooting her toward Dad who actually bounced to the beat. I whispered in Mom’s ear as I gently nudged her. “Go show Dad your moves. We don’t want him hurting anyone.”
She laughed and kissed my cheek before stepping into his arms.
“Thanks, Jillian.” I lifted my bottle off her tray and headed toward the crowd on the couch.
Kristen shifted onto Jason’s lap and muttered something. He laughed. “Your sis seems to think you’re king tonight.”
Hannah stalked over to me, pressing her body into my side. “He is king. He took a random thought, saw possibilities in a forgotten, rundown warehouse, and transformed it into an empire. Even his subjects are loyal and grateful.”
Shaking my head, I ushered Hannah to the couch and sat beside Jason, pulling Hannah onto my lap. “You’re all high. And if I’m king, so is Ben. We’re co-kings.”
Ben raised his beer. “To royalty. And sharing the spoils with everyone.”
“Cheers to that.” I lifted mine along with the rest of the group.
My gaze drifted beyond my parents. The entire dance floor bounced to a rhythmic beat—all except one. One leggy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed nightmare from my past stood motionless and stared straight at me.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” My mood tanked, bottoming into the pit of my stomach.