“You mean money?” Brandon rolled his eyes.
“That would help.”
“I guess I need to contribute.”
“That would help.” I grinned.
“You know my dad expects me to work at his company.”
“That’s fine. I’ll run the day-to-day at the club.”
“I can get my hands on five million pretty easily.” Brandon looked at me questioningly. “That enough?”
“That’ll do to start.” I nodded. “Let’s go. We can take a cab.”
“Shit. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“I’ve got some girls coming tomorrow.”
“For what?”
“To get the party started.” I grinned.
“You’re bad,” he laughed.
“Hey, bad is better than f**ked up. Which is what most women call me.” I chuckled, feeling high on life.
“They don’t even know what f**ked up is.” Brandon rolled his eyes as we made our way to the street corner. “You don’t promise them shit.”
“Exactly. That’s why I don’t feel bad. What you see is what you get.”
“No promises and no lies.”
“Exactly. It’s not my fault if some dumbass girl wants to fool herself into thinking it’s about anything more than sex.”
“That’s why we run the world. We think with our brains and f**k with our heads.” Brandon laughed and I groaned.
“Is the protégée trying to outdo his master with these comments?” I laughed and stared at my friend as we got into the cab.
“Wait until the girls start at the club before you ask anyone to call you master.” Brandon punched me in the shoulder. “Or I’ll have to take you out.”
“You’ll take me out?” I raised an eyebrow at him and flexed my biceps. “Don’t let my handsome good looks fool you, bro.”
“Shut up. What’s going on tomorrow with the girls? You need some help?”
“Thought your dad wanted you to start tomorrow?”
“I can always make time for hotties.”
“That’s my job done, folks. I’ve corrupted him.” I chuckled and sat back in the cab.
I tried to ignore the guilt in my heart. I wasn’t really proud that I had dragged my best friend to the dark side with me. A part of me wished that he had been able to take me to his side back when we were in high school. But it seemed that evil always won out. Back in the day, it had been me and him arguing over how to treat women, and now there was no arguing. We were both dogs.
***
“How did the interviews go?” Brandon turned up in his suit, looking very much like a young businessman.
“Eh, nothing special.” I shrugged. “None of the girls were acceptable.”
“I met some guys in the office. Some guys from Yale and Brown. They’re looking for a new place to relax in the evenings. I told them I might know of a place.”
“Oh yeah?” I sat back. “What did they say?”
“’How much?’” Brandon laughed. “We haven’t spoken about the fees yet.”
“I’m thinking $100,000 a year,” I said straight-faced.
Brandon shook his head. “There’s clubs in Miami that charge $100,000.”
“$250,000 then.”
“That’s better.” Brandon smiled.
“Then we need high-quality girls.”
“We need high-quality everything.” He nodded. “How much do we have left?”
“About two and half million,” I sighed. “The structural issues were worse than I thought.”
“I can get more. What about you?”
I shook my head. “My trust fund doesn’t pay out for three more years.”
“How much more do you think we need?”
“Another ten million.”
“I’ll do a transfer tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. What are friends for?”
“That’s why I chose you as my partner.” I grinned and he laughed.
“Uh huh.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I looked at him. “We’re really doing this, Brandon.”
“I never had any doubt.”
“Really?”
“Anything you put your mind to, you do.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s not a compliment.” Brandon looked at me with a sad face. “Are we doing the right thing?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s exciting, but I can’t explain it. It just seems off. Like we’re doing something bad.”
“We’re providing a service.”
“I know, but who are these women?”
“We’re not providing escorts.” I frowned. “Or prostitutes.”
“But we’re not saying no to sex.”
“They’re adults. They can do what they want.”
“What about the dungeons and the rooms?”
“What about them?”
“What if someone gets hurt?”
“We won’t let anyone get hurt.”
“If you’re sure.” Brandon didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want to—”
“Look, Brandon, these women want it just as badly as we do. They might lie and say it’s about love, but it’s not. It’s about them getting f**ked hard and good. It’s about them getting money. It’s about them thinking they’re getting something. They don’t give two shits.”
“I don’t know.” Brandon frowned. “What about love?”
“Love?” I laughed. “What’s love? Some emotion that twists your head and your heart? What is this, Brandon? You’re not going all Ward Cleaver on me, are you? You’re not telling me you want 2.4 children and a f**king house on Long Island?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that—”
A soft voice interrupted. “Hi, excuse me.” I looked up. A sweet, demure-looking girl stepped into the room. “Sorry, I’m here for the interview. I’m not late, am I?”
“No, not late at all.” I smiled at her and winked at Brandon. Now, this was what I was talking about. She was fresh-faced and sweet, with the right amount of sex appeal.
“Great.” She looked back and forth between me and Brandon. “I had trouble finding the place.”