I stood in the doorway of Steve's parents' garage with a buffet of cars in front of me to choose from. I decided on the Mercedes S500 this time, primarily for its class, but also because it matched my outfit. I wore a dark wash denim pant with a short-cropped leather jacket from Armani. Underneath the jacket I had on a simple white v-neck t-shirt - everything fitted. As soon as I pulled out of the garage, I put on my shades and cruised down to Kitsilano - the neighborhood where Sam lived.
I texted her right before I arrived. When she came out, she looked stunning. Her dark toned legs stretched out of a smart, but sexy, high-cut summer dress.
"Hey, how's it going?" she said as she stepped in the car. Her fruity fragrance immediately consumed the car, competing with the scent I was wearing.
"You look nice. I like what you did with your hair," I commented.
"Thanks, you look nice too."
The drive downtown was good, there was not as much traffic as I expected. Parking was a problem, as usual. I did a few laps around the block and was lucky to find a spot two blocks away from the restaurant where I made reservations.
"Good evening," an attractive hostess greeted us at the door. "For two?"
"Dining room or lounge?"
"Certainly, right this way please."
We followed the hostess through the busy restaurant as she led us to the best seat in the house. We sat down, had a quick glance at the wine menu and ordered two glasses of merlot.
"So tell me about your restaurant," she asked.
"It may be hard to imagine if you haven't been there before, but I'm redoing everything. I'm creating this extravagant bar, which will have a thirty-foot waterfall down the centre of it. There will be LED TVs all across the top of the restaurant. I'm even adding a second level for VIPs only. Trust me, it will be an elite dining experience."
"What do you mean? You're putting in a second floor for VIPs? What's the point of that exactly?"
"It's all about status. The average person will never see the second floor. It's reserved for the elite - politicians, movie stars, athletes, wealthy business owners. Many people will aspire to eat amongst the people on the second floor, but never will. If you make it there, it's prestigious, it means you're important in some way."
"That's ridiculous! And let me guess, that's where you're going to eat?"
"Oh no, of course not... I will be eating on the third floor."
"The third floor?"
"Yes, the majority of the... shall we say, 'second-level patrons' won't even know about the third floor. Membership to the third floor is by invitation only. Each table will be completely private, private entrance, private elevator with a secret access code, private parking, and anything else I can think of that's private. It will of course include state of the art everything and a one of a kind menu offering an array of exotic delicacies. It will be very posh."
"Wow, you're a dreamer."
"No, dreams are for the poor, I'm a realist."
"Okay, is there anything else?"
"Yeah, I'm also replacing all the table cloths," I said with a smile.
"Ha ha, very funny. So are you changing the name too?"
YOU ARE READING
The Art of the HustleMystery / Thriller
Self-made billionaire, Trevor Morrison, recounts his life from being a poor kid from a small town to creating one of the largest companies in the world, all before his 30th birthday. A true underdog tale is told in The Art of the Hustle. When Trev...