tomorrow for Jovi?”
“Sure,” Rob said, falling into step beside him. “He looks forward to the lessons. It might not seem that way, but believe me, you’re doing great with him.”
Dante grinned. “Thanks.” One beat. “It might help if you didn’t stick close by for the next lesson. Let me test Jovi’s fears. I think he’s braver than you give him credit for. He wants to tackle that water. I can see it in his eyes.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Rob said, slapping a hand onto Dante’s shoulder and allowing it to remain there longer than straight male manners allowed.
As they were passing a seating area on the deck, Dante spotted a shiny object on the coquina surface underneath a coffee table. He bent down to retrieve it, shocked to discover that it was a watch. And not just any watch. This was a platinum timepiece iced out with dense diamond crust on the band and bezel. Major bling. “Damn,” Dante murmured, passing his find over to Rob. “Did you know this was out here?”
Rob held the watch in his hands and pulled a face. “Naomi and I went on a buying binge after her first big movie deal. Let’s just say some bad decisions were made.” He laughed a little. “This watch would be one of them. I never wear it. But it’s an Iceman original.”
Dante whistled his recognition. Iceman was the nickname for jeweler Chris Aire, the self-made cat who outfitted the earlobes, necks, wrists, and fingers of Eminem, 50 Cent, Nelly, Shaq, Chris Webber, and others. He even designed a set of platinum teeth for the rapper called Baby. “That’s a fine piece of ice, man,” Dante praised. “You should show it off.”
For a long second, Rob Kelley stared at him. And then he wordlessly handed the watch back to Dante. “Finders keepers. You take it.”
The crushed ice felt like it was burning the skin raw on Dante’s hand. But it was a hot potato that he didn’t want to pass on. Finally, though, he came to his senses. “Are you crazy, man?” he asked, making a move to give it back.
Rob held up both hands in mock surrender, refusing to accept the gesture. “No. Take it,” he insisted.
“I can’t…this thing must be worth at least—”
“We didn’t pay retail,” Rob cut in. “Naomi drives a hard bargain. She cuts a deal on everything.”
Dante stood there, knowing instinctively how wrong this was, yet at the same time feeling a weakening in his resolve to do the right thing. In fact, he flirted with the idea of trying on the watch for size, just for a cheap thrill.
“You should try it on,” Rob suggested.
Dante looked up. Was this guy reading his mind?
“Go on,” Rob encouraged.
Reluctantly, Dante slipped the watch over his wrist and locked the bracelet into place. Shit. It fit like a dream. It looked good. And it felt even better.
“Hey,” Rob said with considerable nonchalance, “if you don’t take it off my hands, I might just end up giving it to the gardener.”
Dante stared down at the awesome piece adorning his wrist. The ice gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. God, it made him feel ten feet tall to wear something like this. Sorry, bitches. Diamonds are a guy’s best friend, too. He imagined the Iceman in his West Coast jewelry lab, setting the stones himself, doing it for the love of the art, not for the money.
Dante thought about the two hundred dollars he’d won from Max in the poker game. That would hardly pay for a speck of diamond dust, but it was something. Besides, Rob Kelley needed to know straight up that Dante wouldn’t be trading out body for bling.
Then another thought came to mind. He’d really intended to set that cash aside for studio time. Cutting a quality demo for Simon St. John was top priority. But then again, fronting serious ice would get him noticed by players in the business who mattered—name producers, in-demand musicians, popular DJs. If they knew from the jump that Dante Medina knew how to roll, then connections would get locked and loaded
“Sure,” Rob said, falling into step beside him. “He looks forward to the lessons. It might not seem that way, but believe me, you’re doing great with him.”
Dante grinned. “Thanks.” One beat. “It might help if you didn’t stick close by for the next lesson. Let me test Jovi’s fears. I think he’s braver than you give him credit for. He wants to tackle that water. I can see it in his eyes.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Rob said, slapping a hand onto Dante’s shoulder and allowing it to remain there longer than straight male manners allowed.
As they were passing a seating area on the deck, Dante spotted a shiny object on the coquina surface underneath a coffee table. He bent down to retrieve it, shocked to discover that it was a watch. And not just any watch. This was a platinum timepiece iced out with dense diamond crust on the band and bezel. Major bling. “Damn,” Dante murmured, passing his find over to Rob. “Did you know this was out here?”
Rob held the watch in his hands and pulled a face. “Naomi and I went on a buying binge after her first big movie deal. Let’s just say some bad decisions were made.” He laughed a little. “This watch would be one of them. I never wear it. But it’s an Iceman original.”
Dante whistled his recognition. Iceman was the nickname for jeweler Chris Aire, the self-made cat who outfitted the earlobes, necks, wrists, and fingers of Eminem, 50 Cent, Nelly, Shaq, Chris Webber, and others. He even designed a set of platinum teeth for the rapper called Baby. “That’s a fine piece of ice, man,” Dante praised. “You should show it off.”
For a long second, Rob Kelley stared at him. And then he wordlessly handed the watch back to Dante. “Finders keepers. You take it.”
The crushed ice felt like it was burning the skin raw on Dante’s hand. But it was a hot potato that he didn’t want to pass on. Finally, though, he came to his senses. “Are you crazy, man?” he asked, making a move to give it back.
Rob held up both hands in mock surrender, refusing to accept the gesture. “No. Take it,” he insisted.
“I can’t…this thing must be worth at least—”
“We didn’t pay retail,” Rob cut in. “Naomi drives a hard bargain. She cuts a deal on everything.”
Dante stood there, knowing instinctively how wrong this was, yet at the same time feeling a weakening in his resolve to do the right thing. In fact, he flirted with the idea of trying on the watch for size, just for a cheap thrill.
“You should try it on,” Rob suggested.
Dante looked up. Was this guy reading his mind?
“Go on,” Rob encouraged.
Reluctantly, Dante slipped the watch over his wrist and locked the bracelet into place. Shit. It fit like a dream. It looked good. And it felt even better.
“Hey,” Rob said with considerable nonchalance, “if you don’t take it off my hands, I might just end up giving it to the gardener.”
Dante stared down at the awesome piece adorning his wrist. The ice gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. God, it made him feel ten feet tall to wear something like this. Sorry, bitches. Diamonds are a guy’s best friend, too. He imagined the Iceman in his West Coast jewelry lab, setting the stones himself, doing it for the love of the art, not for the money.
Dante thought about the two hundred dollars he’d won from Max in the poker game. That would hardly pay for a speck of diamond dust, but it was something. Besides, Rob Kelley needed to know straight up that Dante wouldn’t be trading out body for bling.
Then another thought came to mind. He’d really intended to set that cash aside for studio time. Cutting a quality demo for Simon St. John was top priority. But then again, fronting serious ice would get him noticed by players in the business who mattered—name producers, in-demand musicians, popular DJs. If they knew from the jump that Dante Medina knew how to roll, then connections would get locked and loaded
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