A single cloud floated in dark, brooding silence.

It interrupted a tapestry of perfect blue, with the Sargasso Sea met an azure sky on the sun bleached Miami coast.

It could be seen from every property on the beachfront.

It had no evident purpose. property on the beachfront.

It had no evident purpose.

It had no discernible effect on anything.

Nevertheless, it was there.

On a sun-baked penthouse balcony, a frustrated videographer wrestled with a light reflector

and camera, while enduring a barrage of narcissistic self-obsession.

Bro, no cap, what's with the weather?

I think it could be out here with clouds in the background?

I need the shot to be peak perfection, just like me.

Gotta be flawless! The owner of the voice and the penhouse

was Blake Jonas. He was sitting on the edge of a long pool overlooking the generous

roof terrace and its private tiki bar and conversation fire pit. But none of that seemed to be

making him happy right now. Yo, set up right here, bro. Like, by the bar, then we get a clear backdrop. Do I have to think of everything? Sorry, man, my bad. The videographer replied, sucking in a sigh. You're Toby's brother, right? Where is he in the voice? Blake asked, looking at his watch. Yeah, I'm Dan. You sent Toby and the others out for iced coffees and the, uh, Dan's voice trailed off.

And what?

Blake demanded.

Dan's face strained as he looked around.

He was out of his comfort zone, not wanting to say the word out loud.

You know, the other, the other thing other thing you wanted them to get?

Oh, yo, the girls are the party favors, Blake replied at full volume.

...