had been the only blue-eyed blond with a porcelain complexion in their dorm. As much as he stood out, he’d fit in, and they’d become fast friends.
Trey Jackson had been their fraternity brother, pushing them both to pledge Kappa Alpha Psi. When the trio had bemoaned the stresses of financial aid or lack thereof, Victor Hudson had come with an answer to all their problems. Wesley remembered that defining moment as if it had just happened yesterday.
The party they’d been invited to had been a Who’s Who of Louisiana’s finest. A smorgasbord of beautiful, sexy, financially successful women looking for a night of entertainment. Before either Wesley or Trey could change their minds, someone had turned on the music, each had been given a stage name and the rest had been history. They had all started dancing to supplement their empty pockets. Now they each continued for a variety of reasons. Together, they were the hottest male exotic dance troupe to grace the state.
Bryan “The White Prince” Lackey, Trey “Hammer” Jackson, and Victor “Black Magic” Hudson were Wesley’s closest friends and they made up both the senior management team and talent at his newest venture: The Wet Bar. The newly purchased franchise was destined to be the hottest nightclub in New Orleans.
He turned toward his office. “Joke all you want. Being straight-as-an-arrow has kept me out of all sorts of trouble. You three should try it sometime.”
“Like that would be fun,” Victor quipped, and then turned the music back on.
* * *
Inside his office Wesley blew out a heavy breath as he dropped into his leather executive chair. Despite his joviality with his boys, he hated lying to his parents. Keeping secrets from them hurt his heart. It wasn’t how he’d been raised and it wasn’t at all indicative of the man he strove to be. But neither Leon nor Annie Walters would approve of his endeavors in the adult entertainment market. Although he knew his father would wink and make a joke about his situation, he also knew his mother would be mortified. And that’s why he had never bothered to tell them.
Dancing hadn’t been Wesley’s career of choice. It had been a means to an end, and with that goal just at his fingertips he could appreciate it for all it had been. He had preferred being called an exotic dancer, but in the adult entertainment industry stripping was what he had done. Stripping had helped pay for his bachelor’s degree in business management and his master’s in finance. And it was currently helping him purchase this franchise.
He aspired to be a corporate mogul, running his own multi-million-dollar business and The Wet Bar was just the beginning. He had danced to pay the bills and dancing had afforded him the opportunity to save and invest the money he’d made. The Wet Bar franchise was a viable business opportunity and he planned to transform and legitimize the business, making it the most talked-about venture in an industry some considered tawdry and decadent. Renovating the New Orleans location was just the beginning. He then hoped to purchase additional franchises and expand to multiple cities throughout the nation.
Despite his efforts to hide what he did from his family, there was no hiding that he knew the business like the back of his hand. He knew how to grow the client base and how to give them what they wanted. Stripping didn’t begin to define the entertainment business that would become the cornerstone of his empire.
The office door opened and the echo of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” vibrated through the entrance. Bryan poked his head into the room. “Hey, you busy?”
Wesley shook his head. “No. Just trying to figure out what comes next. Come on in,” he said, as he gestured for his friend to take a seat. “What’s up?”
“We got a call from the corporate office. A local television news show is doing a profile piece on the company and since our renovations are almost done, they’d like to film here.”
“Here?”
Bryan nodded, a wide grin spreading like spilled sugar across his face. “They said they’d like to spotlight you and your goals for the business. They thought it would be a good idea to showcase the grand reopening to help promote the place.”
“Wow! That’s...wow!”
Bryan laughed. “That’s what I said. They’re going to send some folks from their executive team to scout the place, talk to you and make sure it’s all a good fit for what they’re looking to accomplish.”
Wesley took a deep breath. “When?”
“They’ll be here tomorrow at noon.”
A loud expletive blew harshly out of his mouth. “I need to talk to the contractor. We have to be done on time. We can’t blow this.”
Bryan winked. “I grabbed him earlier and told him to come see you before he leaves.”
Wesley nodded his appreciation. “This is really happening.”
“Man! You’re about to blow up!”
“You look like you just got off a plane,” Paxton Reid said, his gaze sweeping the length of Kamaya’s slim frame.
“So now you have jokes? You know I just got off an airplane.” She was wearing oversized sweatpants, a tank top and Converse sneakers. The look was too casual and very basic.
“But you look like you just flew on a commercial flight and not private. You should look way better.”
“You’re an ass,” Kamaya said, narrowing her gaze on the man. She and Paxton Reid had been best friends for years. They’d met in high school, lab partners who both hated science with a passion. For a brief moment they’d been a couple, but that hadn’t worked. Occasionally they were lovers, and that did work, even when it didn’t. Despite their obvious differences—he was white and a male—they genuinely cared about each other and most days that was more than enough.
Her eyes rolled as she took the short flight of stairs to the front entrance of her office space. The Michelle Initiatives, located on Lee Street, was welcoming and looked like they were in the business of selling cupcakes and lollipops. The old two-story home with its lime-colored paint, bright yellow shutters and red door belied what was really happening behind the wooden entrance.
Kamaya had named the business after herself. Michelle was her middle name. Her brother Mason had the monopoly on their last name, Boudreaux Enterprises being his claim to fame. Michelle had been personal enough, but not so much that it drew any unwanted attention from her family. Because The Michelle Initiative was all about adult entertainment.
Most of Kamaya’s businesses, either directly or indirectly, provided sex-related products and services to an adult clientele. On the titillating side there was Play Candy, her line of adult sex toys, Eye Candy, the adult publishing line that was home to erotic stories, and her newest acquisition, forty-three strip clubs across the country soon to be renamed “The Wet Bar” and revitalized to cater to an upscale female clientele. On the less sensationalistic side there were the upscale massage parlors, A Touch Above, and the vaginal rejuvenation centers, Secret Garden Clinics. But, when asked, all Kamaya ever talked about were the convenience stores and gas stations that had been the foundation of her expanding portfolio. In the corporate offices of The Michelle Initiative she employed a staff of thirty-six people who all operated out of the pretty, gingerbread-trimmed home.
Paxton bounded up the steps behind her. “I may be an ass but I’m an honest ass!” he said, his expression smug. “And you can always trust me to tell you the truth!”
Kamaya tossed him a look as she pushed her way inside. “So what have I missed?” she asked.
“The first Wet Bar franchise is opening soon. Renovations are almost done and we meet with the franchise owner tomorrow.”
“Is he on board for the feature?” she asked. “He understands that we want him to be the face of The Wet Bar?”
“Well,