“He was trying to get a rise out of me!” I try and defend myself, but I can tell it’s going to be no fucking use. These assholes aren’t going to back down.
“Obviously, the Inspector went to the board and told them immediately what happened. He’s shocked and told us that you came on his fucking shoe. Is that true Owen?” Jay shakes his head in disgust. “If it is, that’s fucking gross as shit, man.”
“That’s beside the point,” I continue to argue, skirting around and dodging Jay’s question. “I’m a goddamn paying customer; I have my rights.”
“This isn’t a fucking court Owen.” Jay gives me a chagrined look. “The board says your actions are disruptive and worthy of the offense. My hands are tied,” he admits.
I pound the steering wheel in frustration, then look back at Jay as an idea comes to me. “Let me talk to the board,” I request.
“Sorry, man. No can do,” Jay denies firmly.
“Why the hell not?” I growl, desperation filling me to the core.
“They don’t speak directly to the customers,” Jay admits. “That’s where I come in, as a liaison of sorts.”
“That’s fucking made up bullshit!” I yell.
“I can’t help you, Owen,” Jay says and walks away, apologetically telling me I should go home and get some sleep.
I watch in fury as he walks back into the club and out of sight. I stub out my cigar and speed off.
You remember that I said I only live a few blocks away, right? Yeah, I could walk to the club, but I just got this fucking new car and I want to drive it around for the hell of it. So sue me.
Did I mention I live right here in the city that never sleeps? My ride home isn’t long, but I’m pissed enough to drive a hundred miles; although right now, I just pull up to my ritzy and luxurious apartment building.
I step out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet man who appears to be a lanky young guy, wearing a red bellhop outfit with gold trim.
I give him a slight nod in thanks and give him a hefty tip before walking towards the building to the lobby inside.
“Good evening, sir,” our elderly doorman greets me with a twinkle in his eye.
“Hey, George.” I give him a wink and a smile.
George Worthington is the glue that holds this building together, and I can’t imagine a world where I don’t see his shining face waiting for me to come home each night.
“Thank you, George,” I say and walk past him as he holds the door open for me.
I’m immediately hit with the refreshing coolness of air conditioning as I leave the damp, humid summer night behind me.
Good fucking riddance, as far as I’m concerned.
I pound the elevator button to the forty-ninth floor where my penthouse apartment overlooks Central Park. On the way up, a terrible thought comes rushing into my head, and I know I’m not going to fucking sleep a wink tonight.
If I’m banned from the club right now, I’m going to miss my “date” with Crystal Caspen, the prestigious five-star stripper that I’ve always wanted, but who’s always fucking booked up.
I punch the elevator door as I exit into my hallway, seething with the realization that I’m going to have to give up my coveted spot with her this month. I need to think of a plan, and fucking fast.
3
Owen
The next morning, I’m still reeling from my unfair, bullshit ban from the Expose Club and trying to brainstorm a way to weasel my way back into my favorite spot on earth.
I click on the lights to my corner office with the window overlooking the Hudson River in Lower Manhattan. I plop down at my desk and sigh as I press my tie to my chest and rub its surface absentmindedly.
“Uh, sir?”
I look up to see my secretary Melissa staring at me. She’s in her early fifties, the best in the fucking business. There’s not a schedule out there that Melissa can’t tame. There’s not an asshole she’s too scared to send away.