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“We’re doing this, bitches.”
    “Your dad gave you the money?” Brandon looked surprised but excited.
    “I threatened to tell everyone about the women he keeps.” I shrugged. “He doesn’t want people to know he’s not the grieving widower.”
    “He’s got more than one now?”
    “One in the basement. One in an apartment in Harlem.”
    “Oh.”
    “Who cares? We’ll just call it a graduation gift.”
    “Yeah. How much did he give you?”
    “Ten million.”
    “He really didn’t want that news out , huh?”
    “What are you talking about ? He’s just proud that his only son graduated magna cum laude from Harvard.” I stared at him. “And it didn’t hurt that I had photos of his dungeon—whips and all.”
    Brandon’s eyes widened. “Shit.”
    “More like fuck yeah . We can have a dungeon at the club.”
    “What do we need a dungeon for?”
    “Kinky sex. Do I have to spell it out?”
    “I don’t know.” Brandon frowned.
    “You don’t have to partake.”
    “Well, I’m not saying no.” He laughed.
    “Fucker.” I walked into the kitchen of the apartment we shared. “Want a beer?”
    “Nah ,” he called back. “So when can I see the building?”
    “We can go now if you want.” I grinned excitedly, adrenaline pumping through my veins . I was excited to see that my vision was finally coming true.
    “Yeah. Let’s go.”
    “Be warned, it’s not fixed up yet.”
    “Oh shit, it’s a hell hole?”
    “It’s epic, dude. It’s huge. It’s perfect. It just needs some TLC.”
    “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 fucked up. Which is what most women call me.” I chuckled, feeling high on life.
    “They don’t even know what fucked 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 fuck 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