Authors: Rhonda Bowen
Get You Good (4 page)
Sydney blinked. “So you just want to do music? You're not interested in Decadent?”
Dean grimaced. “Honestly, Syd, this place has always been your thing. I know it was Dad's dream to keep it in the family, but it's not what I want for my life.”
Sydney let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
“Wow. I thought you were coming to tell me you were ready to take over running it.” The relief in her voice was obvious.
“No way! I could never take this away from you and Lissandra. Especially you,” said Dean.
A rush of warmth filled Sydney's chest.
“But it is part of the reason I came down here.”
Sydney's smile faded a bit as the tension began to seep back into her chest.
“OK. Go on,” she said cautiously.
Dean looked at her uneasily before getting up and walking over to the other side of the room.
“Like I said, Syd, I want to start my own studio,” he began. “But that takes money. A lot of money. Money I don't have. But I do have this shop.”
He turned to face Sydney, rubbing his palms together nervously.
“I want to sell Decadent.”
Chapter 4
S
ydney sprang from the couch. “What!”
ydney sprang from the couch. “What!”
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. After all her hard work and the years she sank into this shop, Dean wanted to sell Decadentâright out from under her. How could he betray her like that? How could he betray their family like that?
But the look on his face told her he was completely serious.
“You heard right, Syd. I want to sell Decadent,” he repeated. “To you.”
Sydney's mouth opened and closed. Then opened again.
“You want to sell it to me?” she squeaked.
“I know you love this place.” Dean stuck his hands in his pockets. “It's everything you've done since you were a teenager. The same passion Dad had for this place, you have. It really should be yours.”
Sydney felt her eyes moisten. She had never spoken to anyone about how much she loved Decadent. How the shop, the staff, the people felt like an extension of herself. But in some small way, it seemed as if Dean had gotten it. And now, here he was proposing to her something that she had hoped one dayâwhen she had enough moneyâto propose to him.
“Dean, Dad gave Decadent to you,” she protested.
“But you love it,” Dean countered. “More than I do. Probably more than any of the rest of us do. So what's it gonna be, Syd? Will you buy it from me, so we can both have what we really want?”
Sydney shook her head. “I want to Dean, but I can't. I don't have the money right now.”
“But you've been running this place for almost five years,” Dean said, an eyebrow raised. “And Zelia told me you haven't gotten anything for yourselfâno new car, no house, no vacationsâso what have you been doing with your money.”
It was Sydney's turn to pace.
“Honestly, Dean? I've been saving in hopes that one day I would be able to own Decadent, or somewhere like it. But I don't have enough yet. This place could be worth close to three hundred fifty Kâ”
“Three hundred fifty thousand dollars!” Dean's eyes looked like they would pop out of his head.
“Yes, Dean,” Sydney said. “Three hundred fifty thousand. This is prime location. People would kill to be downtown this close to the subway, the business district, and the universities. Plus there's all the equipment, and we haven't even started talking about the value of the brand.”
She knew all of this because she had been thinking about buying Decadent since the day they read Leroy's will. And since then she had been keeping track of the value of the business on the market.
“The only drawback is that the recession has hit the market in terms of what people are willing to pay. Nobody's really buying businesses like this anymore, but the property would go fast, for sure.”
Dean was staring at Sydney, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Sydney could tell he was still stuck on the three hundred fifty thousand.
“Wow. I didn't even know all of that.” He swallowed hard. “You really know your stuff.”
Sydney wanted to say that he should, too, seeing that he was the owner. But she didn't.
“Yes, well, it comes with the territory,” she said. “What did you think it was worth anyway?”
Dean shrugged and came back to sit on the couch. “I don't know. About ninety thousand maybe?”
“No, baby bro,” Sydney said with a chuckle. “If it was just ninety K, I could afford that. But I could never let you sell me Decadent for that. It wouldn't be fair.”
Dean nodded and sat back.
“So I guess that plan is out.” Disappointment dripped from his voice.
“You could always take out a loan against the business,” Sydney said in a small, reluctant voice.
He shook his head. “That's not me. I don't want to deal with the hassle of worrying about the financing on two businesses at one time. To be honest, I'm not trying to be tied to Decadent. I just want to focus on my own thing.”
Sydney nodded and tried to keep from showing how offended she was by Dean's words. They sat in silence a moment longer.
“Have you checked out the cost of setting up your studio anyway? Where would it be? What would the equipment and licensing cost? What are the startup expenses you would be looking at?”
Dean sat forward again. “I was thinking I could buy a house and set up the studio in the basement there. Or I could lease space somewhere. I know a couple locations that could work. I even heard about a brother selling his studio because he was expanding.”
Sydney bit her lip. “What if I lent you the money for the studio? Or maybe even bought part of Decadent from you so that you could have the money you need to start up?”
Dean's eyes brightened. “You would do that?”
Sydney shrugged. “Sure. Why not? If this is really what you want to do, then you should be able to do it.”
Dean nodded, the excitement lighting his eyes. “That might work.”
Sydney grinned. “Great! So come up with the costs for your studio and let me know, and I'll see what I can come up with and we'll take it from there.”
“Thanks, Syd,” Dean said, pulling his sister into a hug after they stood. “This means a lot to me.”
“Glad we could come to a solution,” Sydney said with a smile as she headed toward her desk.
“Yeah, me too,” Dean said, backing toward the door. “I would have hated to have to turn to my other solution.”
“What was that?” Sydney asked, shuffling toward the door.
“Selling the shop outright to someone else.”
Sydney's fingers stilled as she felt her blood turn to ice.
“Anyway, I'm meeting Sheree for lunch,” Dean said, already halfway through the door. “Catch you later, Syd.”
Sydney didn't respond as her brother left. She was still in shock at her brother's words. He was willing to sell the family business to someone else.
That meant only one thing.
If she didn't come up with the money Dean needed to start his studio, she could lose Decadent forever.
Â
“OK, Nini, what's going on? You've been hiding in this office all afternoon. Our regulars have been wondering if you're even in today.”
Sydney looked up from her desk at Lissandra, who was standing in the doorway to her office with her arms folded.
“You know I hate when you call me that.” Sydney turned back to her computer. “I didn't tell you what Hayden said so you could resurrect that name,
Sandi
.”
Sandi
.”
Lissandra scowled at “Sandi,” the pet name that she disliked as much as Sydney disliked “Nini.”
“OK,” Lissandra said, coming into the office and seating herself on the other side of Sydney's desk. “But you still haven't answered my question. Even the busboy can tell you're in a foul mood, and he's not really the sharpest knife in the drawer.”
Sydney sighed and slipped off the glasses she used at the computer.
“I had a chat with Dean this morning.”
Lissandra raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And he's thinking of selling Decadent.”
Lissandra sat forward. “Shut up.”
“I'm serious,” Sydney said. “He wants to open his own studio and do this music thing, but he needs money for the startup.”
“So let him go get a loan like regular folk,” Lissandra said, annoyed.
“He's not interested in a loan.” Sydney pursed her lips. “Why go into debt when you have three hundred and fifty K worth of real estate at your disposal?”
“That little bastard.”
Sydney pinned Lissandra with a disapproving look. She didn't even flinch.
“In fairness, though, he offered to sell it to me first.” Sydney sighed. “He said he knew how important it was to keep it in the family.”
“I know you've been saving, but you ain't got that kind of money.” Lissandra narrowed her eyes. “Or do you?”
“I don't,” Sydney confirmed. “Not by a long shot. But he thought I might. Can you believe he thought the shop was worth ninety thousand?”
Lissandra kissed her teeth. “You should have let his ignorant behind sell it to you for that, then.”
“I couldn't do that, Lissa. That would be beyond wrong.”
“What is wrong is Dean not caring enough about the place he owns to even know what it's worth.”
Sydney sat up straight and began to shuffle through the papers on her desk. “Yeah, well, that's the least of my problems now. I managed to delay the sales talks with Dean until he could find out how much starting up his studio would cost.”
Lissandra pressed the tips of her fingers together as she sat back. “We can't let him sell Decadent. Not until we can afford to buy it.”
“Unless you have two hundred and fifty thousand to add to my one hundred, I am not sure how we're going to do that,” Sydney said.
“Hmm. I bet that wife of his had something to do with this. I wouldn't be surprised if she put that idea to sell in his head.” Lissandra scowled. “Did he mention anything about her?”
Sydney snorted. “Oh yeah. He went on and on about how great she was. You would think that girl put the stars in the sky the way he talks about her.”
“She put it on him, that's for sure.” Lissandra crossed her legs with smirk. “There's no other reason she could have that much power over him.”
Lissandra leaned forward. “We should check her out, Syd. Maybe she's just into Dean for the money.”
Sydney rolled her eyes and began sorting through the mail that had been sitting on her desk all day. “He said they met for the first time over Christmas. How would she even know if he had anything?”
“I don't know. But I don't trust her.”
“You haven't even met her.”
“Sometimes you have to go with your gut.”
Sydney was about to respond when two blue slips of paper fell from a blue envelope she had just opened. When she took them up and saw what they were, her mouth fell open.
“What is it, Syd?”
“Raptors basketball tickets,” Sydney said, still gaping.
“Lies.” Lissandra reached across the pile of papers between them to snatch the tickets from Sydney's fingers.
“See for yourself,” Sydney said, even as she pulled the included card out of the envelope and leaned back in her chair.
Â
I told you I would see you soon.
âDub
Â
Sydney couldn't stop the smile that spread her lips.
“Sydney, have you seen these tickets! These are right behind the players' bench. We're so close that when Ben Wallace wipes his sweat it might hit us. Syd . . . Syd, are you even hearing me?”
“Huh? Oh yeah.” Sydney pulled her eyes from the window and immediately dropped the finger she had pressed to her lips thoughtfully.
Lissandra smirked. “Mr. Windsor sure didn't waste any time.”
“I know, right?” Sydney stretched her arms out on the desk restlessly. “How did he even manage to get tickets like this?”
“He's in the NBA boys' club.” Lissandra pulled her chair around to Sydney's side of the desk. “I'm sure there's some sort of lifetime membership. Or at least residual benefits for banged-up ex-players.”
“Hey! What are you doing?” Sydney asked as Lissandra hijacked her computer keyboard.
“What do you think? I'm googling him.” Lissandra nudged Sydney's chair and sent it rolling out of her way. “Let's see what homeboy is really working with.”
Sydney rolled her eyes as she gave her sister space. “This is so juvenile. . . .”
“There he is!” Lissandra exclaimed.
Sydney moved the screen slightly so she could see it. She whistled when the handsome picture of a grinning Hayden came on screen.
“Yup, that's him all right.” She bit her bottom lip. “Looks like he's working for the Toronto Raptors now.”
Lissandra slapped her palm on the desk and sat back with a grin. “I told you he was still in the NBA.”
“Yeah, but he's only a trainer. . . .”
“âOnly a trainer'?” Lissandra twisted around to meet Sydney's eyes. “Girl, for his âonly a trainer' position he's probably raking in at least one hundred K per year plus benefits, along with a contract that won't get terminated if he shatters his other knee.”
“Hmm.” Sydney picked up a pen and rolled it between her hands. “Well, that explains what he's up to here in Toronto.”
“Part of what he's up to,” Lissandra said, picking up the tickets and handing them to Sydney. “Looks like you're the other part. What are you wearing?”
“Wearing?” Sydney turned to Lissandra. “Don't be silly. I'm not going.”
“Sydney!”
“Lissandra, I'm not playing this game with Dub. I'm not going to just show up where he wants me to 'cause he sent me some tickets. Do I look like some desperate groupie? Forget that. Besides, I have to work Sunday night.”
Lissandra sprang out of her chair and planted herself in the tiny space between Sydney and the desk. “Are you hearing yourself? A brotherâa tall, fine, well-employed brotherâjust sent you four hundred dollars worth of merchandise and your excuse is you have to work? Don't make me slap you, Syd.”
“Whatever, Lissandra. I'm not going. And I'm sending back these tickets.”
“No!” Lissandra whined. “Now you're ruining my life, too! Sydney, I may never be able to get tickets like this ever again. This may be our only chance. . . .”
Sydney shook her head, slipping the tickets back into the envelope. “My tickets, my decision. I'm sending them back.”
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