9 July 23-29, 2026 miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com NEW TIMES | CONTENTS | LETTERS | NEWS | NIGHT+DAY | CULTURE | CAFE | MUSIC | Month XX–Month XX, 2008 miaminewtimes.com MIAMI NEW TIMES | CONTENTS | LETTERS | RIPTIDE | METRO | NIGHT+DAY | STAGE | ART | FILM | CAFE | MUSIC | business with Peters but struggled to get in touch with Kest, as well as others who claim Kest “screwed them over.” To Jackson, “noth- ing about this guy adds up.” Mostly, he’s just worried about Peters.“Clav is being misled,” Jackson says. “And I think Clav, given his history of drug problems, is in a very dangerous position to be taken advantage of, whether that’s by Nate or someone else.” Streaming a new face It’s around 5:45 a.m. inside Dr. Miami’s plas- tic surgery office in Bay Harbor Islands, a quiet waterfront enclave between Miami Beach and the mainland. The brightly lit third-floor pre-op room is washed in Vice City pinks and blues. An acrylic painting of three women’s bikini-clad backsides hangs on one wall. A worn white mezuzah is fixed to the doorframe. In the corner, a pink twin bed sits beneath a canvas bearing a cartoon il- lustration of the celebrity surgeon Dr. Miami, who rose to fame livestreaming surgeries during Snapchat’s heyday and is best known for Brazilian Butt Lifts, or BBLs. In the center of the small room, Peters stands quietly while his girlfriend, Snyder — a thin young woman with long, beach-blonde hair — ties a disposable blue paper gown around his waist. Peters looks tired this morning after an- other late night of livestreaming. Once he is dressed in the gown and a pair of long white compression socks, a nurse asks to take a few photos of his face — specifically, his nose. She grabs an iPhone and a rectangular ring light before snapping the images one by one. Mo- ments later, he settles onto the bed and an- swers a nurse’s pre-op questions. Any routine medications? “No.” Any allergies? “No.” Any kids? “Not that I know of,” Peters says, laughing, glancing toward his girlfriend seated quietly on a hot pink couch nearby. When asked to list an emergency contact, Peters gives the nurse the name of his camera- man, Brock Mason, who is seated to his left. Not long after, Dr. Miami (whose real name is Michael Salzhauer) enters the room, drops onto a rolling stool, and slaps on a pair of purple latex gloves. The celebrity doctor looks at Peters and asks him to list the top three things that he dislikes about his nose, in order of severity. “Uhh, the width, I would say the length,” Peters says, touching the bridge of his nose, “and like the angle of my nasal tip.” As Peters and Salzhauer discuss the sur- gery, the cameras are already rolling. Mason is live-streaming the conversation to tens, then hundreds, then thousands of people on Kick.com in what they labeled the “first-ever livestreamed rhinoplasty.” (Whether that’s true is unclear.) Less than an hour later, Salzhauer and an- other surgeon slice open and reshape that nose — specifically, through a nostril reduc- tion and nasal tip derotation, to bring it downward and make his nose more “acute” and “masculine,” Salzhauer explains to me. At around 7:10 a.m., Peters is lying on an operating table with orange antiseptic splashed across his face and his eyes taped shut. A doctor carefully places a tube down his throat. The rhythmic beeping of machines and spa-like music fill the background. In the corner, a large camera, ready to livestream the procedure, faces the wall. From the viewing room next door — a small seating area sepa- rated from the operating room by a glass wall — Snyder waits for the procedure to begin. Wearing a beige Alo sweatshirt and a gold Star of David necklace around her neck, she presses her hands against the pane and stares at the streamer’s limp body. The 18-year-old from Ohio, who now lives in Miami with Peters and does OnlyFans work, is visibly unsettled. She says he doesn’t need the surgery. “He’s literally perfect,” she sighs. It’s now close to 10:30 a.m., and Peters is slowly waking from the anesthesia. From the corridor connecting the consultation rooms to the surgical suites, nurses shout for him to relax and lie back down. He moans loudly. When Mason and I enter the recovery suite, Peters is sprawled on a gurney, a young blonde nurse holding his hands down to keep him from touching his post-operative nose. The livestream continues from the adjacent view- ing room. Hundreds of viewers look on, many demanding updates about Peters’ condition. Peters slurs his words and asks for water in a raspy voice. Mason insists that he needs a drink. “He’ll aspirate,” a nurse replies. A few moments later, the nurse looks at Mason. “Are you his brother?” she asks, gesturing toward a disoriented Peters. “Close enough,” Mason responds with a shrug. To Peters, this surgery was another appar- ently necessary step in his already extreme looksmaxxing journey. Online, fans had be- gun to accuse him of “descending” in his ap- pearance, posting side-by-side photos of a jacked-looking Peters alongside more recent ones. Some even photoshopped pictures to make him look emaciated. Days after the surgery, a visibly medicated Peters announced during a late-night livestream that he had exited the Miami nightlife industry and sold his stake in Bacara. He boasted that he “made a lot of money” from the deal with the venue. “I don’t give a shit about Bacara anymore… I already made my bag,” he says on stream. “I flipped those shares, I flipped those shares for a prof, bro.” The announcement stunned the Wak- nines, who say it did not match the explana- tion Peters had given them privately. CC Waknine says Peters told the couple he planned to frame his departure as an amicable decision: that he appreciated their partner- ship, but the venture simply was not for him. Instead, Waknine says, he did “the com- plete opposite.” “I don’t think he had anything to do with that,” Waknine tells New Times. “It was just really weird.” Around a week later, TMZ reported on a letter from Peters’ attorney accusing the Waknines of failing to honor his stake in Ba- cara. According to the letter, Peters invested $400,000 in exchange for a 50 percent own- ership share, but claimed that when he tried to formalize the agreement, his “former biz partner” told him, “handshakes are how men do business” and “You know who we are? What’s a contract?” Peters also alleged that the Waknines later demanded an additional $2 million before he could receive his share of the club. When reached for comment about the let- ter, Johnny Donovan, a spokesperson for the Waknines, referred New Times to the state- ment he provided to TMZ, in which he said it was “hard to believe that, after all the help we’ve given this young man, he is now [send- ing us a legal letter] that we have not even re- ceived yet.” “You live and learn,” the statement read. “At this point, the healthiest and most pro- ductive approach is to focus on making sound business decisions and preparing for what lies ahead. Our priority should be taking the proper steps to protect and strengthen our business while handling this matter profes- sionally and responsibly.” On the evening of June 10, Peters under- went another procedure as part of a series of surgeries he had scheduled ahead of a planned trip to Europe for Paris Fashion Week. Rather than spending another Wednesday night hold- ing court at Bacara, he was at a Fort Lauderdale plastic surgery office getting an otoplasty, also known as ear-pinning surgery. The following day, he had additional procedures planned, in- cluding the removal of his wisdom teeth. Later that night, Peters streamed from the desktop inside his downtown Miami apart- ment to show off his new ears and reveal that he’d received his passport earlier that day. Kest occasionally appeared in the reflection of the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows throughout the stream. Peters bickered with followers who called him “botched.” One viewer commented that they missed Peters’ old streams. “Yeah, I agree,” Peters replies, sounding al- most mournful. A beat passes before he seem- ingly snaps back into character. “Well, guys, I have to ascend. I’m 20 fuck- ing years old. My entire career has been six months,” he says. “There’s just some things that need to be done.” [email protected] “Well, guys, I have to ascend. I’m 20 fucking years old. My entire career has been six months. There’s just some things that need to be done.”
