Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All characters and names are fictional and were made up.
******************
Miami, Florida
A crack was visible on the surface of a white glass lamp sitting in the hotel room. Dim lightness faded across the room during the night. Emily Ratajkowski sat alone in the bed, her cellphone within her hands as she texted back with a friend of hers. She awaited a reply, all while she sat there and noticed the crack in the lamp. It looked as if a line of super glue had been applied to prevent further destruction on it. At the same time, the crack was somewhat metaphorical that she could relate to at the moment. A rip had been made into the fabric of what she originally thought could be a long term relationship with a good man.
Emily's bond with Steven had been slowly fading away ever since January. It seemed after their vacation together, what could've been love was slipping away. She set the phone down on the night stand, trying not to think about it. Her friend across the country in L.A. had yet to respond to her text. The young lady did nothing while laying in the bed, sighing as she was reminded of her decaying romance with Steven. She had remained loyal to him since they began dating, often turning down what could've been fun times with her friends. She held suspicions believing Steven had not been so loyal to her in the past. It seemed apparent that he lived a swinger lifestyle being a club manager. She didn't want to think about it, not worth the stress. He proved to be quite difficult, as he seemed to be obsessed with keeping a low profile, even to the point he didn't want her taking public photos of them to post on social media
Last week he treated her to a lovely late night dinner at an expensive restaurant. The date was cut short for him to rush the club, worried over the safety of his nephew. Emily had noticed that the club seemed to run Steven's life. He would call off dates, meetings even just a casual night to run things back there. His business did not bother her so much, only that it got in the way of progress of their relationship. Like the crack she witnessed in the lamp, she had to wonder if cracks were in the foundation of what they had together. Or maybe they were not meant to be together all along. Emily had a friend from the modelling agency back in L.A. begging for a nice date. A man the same age as her, one that she had known for years as a close friend. Even now as she lay back in the bed, she almost could tell herself that Steven wouldn't be calling this late at night. For all she could guess, he was back at Disco Fever doing whatever it was that he refused to share with her as his business.
******************
Wednesday evening was just an average night for clubbing in Miami. Disco Fever always remained busy during the week, though Friday and the weekends were the true 'mad house' days as it would be described from the business perspective. Steven Diaz found himself upstairs, standing within the walls of his private office. He stood by the window, eyeing the action down on the floor while sipping on a glass of whiskey. He wore a pink shirt with three buttons undone and white pants. His grey jacket remained over the chair of his office. He had been busy in the past week trying to hunt down Carlos. Ramón had visited the club back and forth, still keeping his job in order, but Steven refused to question him about his brother. If he were to tell Ramón that he was seeking Carlos, it would be pretty obvious what the motivation would be.
Instead, he called around town checking with his contacts. Steven guessed that with Carlos not having a legitimate job, he would end up back on the street dealing and hustling again. At the least, he could possibly get lucky and land Carlos' location with another club. Steven and Tony had many contacts within Miami, all built up connections from years of club managing in town. Every night since last week, he remained at the club waiting by the phones or observing down the dance floor for any trouble. While he stood by the window, he listened to the muffled bass sound booming from the music going on downstairs. Finishing off the glass in his hand, his cellphone began to ring loudly within the inside pocket of his jacket over near his desk. Steven walked over, setting down the empty glass to snatch his phone out of the jacket and answer it. The caller I.D. revealed a number he was unfamiliar with.
"Hello?"
"Steven Diaz, is that you?"
"Yes, it is. Who am I speaking with?"
The male voice on the end came off familiar to Steven's ears. A crackling laugh was heard before a reply was uttered.
"This is Martin, you know me. Mucho tiempo viejo amigo."
Steven sighed, trying not to smile to himself. Martin had been an old friend to the Diaz family. He was previously a bouncer at a club Tony owned over a decade ago. Always a good source for information, a loyal friend to the end. Steven had not seen Martin in a few years. Last he heard, the man had taken a job as a bouncer at another club across town.
"Hey, it's been a while old friend. It's good to hear your voice again."
"Likewise! So I heard from someone else that you're looking for that cousin of yours, yeah?"
"You heard right. I'm trying to track Carlos down."
"You're talking to the right man. I've got him, he comes to a certain club every night. I'm working security out here, I've been seeing his face quite often the past couple nights."
"Where are you at?"
"Berserker. You know, the weird blue and white club out here in South Beach?"
"Yeah, I know the place. Is Carlos there now?"
"Yep! Your cousin just come in, he's got a girl with him and they look to be staying."
Steven looked at the clock, seeing the accurate time was 10:21 PM. He thought for a minute before responding.
"I should be there in an hour and a half. Good looking out Martin, thanks! I owe you one after this."
"You don't owe me a thing, amigo! I've always got your back and Tony's, you know that."
"Thanks, appreciate it. I'll see you soon."
