Chapter Four
Damon
T he music pulses and the lights flash as I walk through the VIP area of Ivory Tower.
“Hey! Damon!”
Glancing over my shoulder, I find one of the regulars heading my way. He’s a young guy in his early twenties, probably still in college, and from what I’ve gathered, rather wealthy. He always buys from me when he’s here, and I can already see the dollar signs.
“Matthew, what’s up?” We do the weird bro handshake and half hug. “You looking to buy?”
He grins. “You know it.”
Glancing around, I lead him over to a table in the corner. “What are you shopping for tonight?”
“I need some Xanax, E, Adderall, and Oxy. I’ll buy whatever you have left. We’re having a party tomorrow night, and I want to make sure everyone has a good time.”
I snort. “Everything? You know how much I usually carry on me, kid?”
He nods, reaching into his jacket and flashing me a wad of cash. “I do, and you know I’m good for it.”
“Alright. Let me grab my bag. You stay here.” At his nod, I start toward the bar.
The bartender is Ian’s niece, and she’s the only employee who knows what I sell. She glances up at me as I near. “Another sale?”
“A big one,” I say with a laugh, and she nods as she lifts the backpack onto the top of the bar. I grab it, ignoring the look the bouncer at the top of the stairs gives me as I walk back over to Matthew. “Alright, let’s get this done. Do you have somewhere to put it?”
He nods. “My girl has her purse. You cool if she comes over?”
I shrug and a moment later, a young blonde in a barely there dress joins us. I look at the large designer handbag and shake my head. “I’m surprised they let you bring that in.”
Matthew scoffs. “Like they would tell me no. Plus, they checked it before letting us come in.”
As annoying as I find his words, I know them to be true. Unless he really fucks something up, Ian isn’t going to do anything to piss the kid off. At least they searched the bag. Not that they’ll be searching it on the way out, which is when it’ll be filled with drugs.
I’m surprised that me calling him a kid doesn’t piss him off. I’m twenty-eight, so it’s not like there’s much difference in our ages. It’s our experiences that set us apart. Matthew hasn’t had to work for anything a day in his life, whereas I’ve done nothing but work my ass off since I was eighteen.
All it took was two days to upend the life I’d lived until then. But now’s not the time to go delving into the past. There’s never really a good time to think about my life back then. It’s not like I’ll ever be able to live it again.
“Are we doing this?” Matthew’s tone is bored, but I see the way he’s eyeing my bag. Kid better watch out—he’s on a one-way street to addiction.
“Yeah.”
I know how many pills are in each baggie, but I count them out loud for his benefit. I’m keeping a running total in my head as I continue. Luckily I’ve always excelled at numbers because who wants a fucking drug dealer who pulls out a calculator to tell you how much you owe them?
Once everything has been transferred, I rattle off the extremely high number, but Matthew doesn’t even flinch. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out that wad of cash, counting off hundred dollar bills before handing them to me.
“As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you, kid. Let me know if you have any more parties coming up,” I tell him with a grin. “If you give me a week’s notice, I can get you even more than this next time.”
Matthew returns my smile as his girl closes her bag and pulls it up her arm to rest on her shoulder. “I’ll definitely let you know. We’re going to see how tomorrow goes, and if it goes well, this might be a weekly thing.”
Dollar signs are flashing before my eyes already. If I could make this much or more off the kid weekly, I wouldn’t need to keep working here. The amount of money he just spent is enough to pay for a month of my mom’s care. Obviously, I still have to pay my supplier, so I don’t get to keep all the money. But still.
“Until next time,” he says, saluting me.
I watch the two of them pass Tyrone, whose eyes are locked on me as I walk back to the bar. Handing the bag to Rachel. “That’s probably the last time I’ll need that. It’s close to closing, and I’m almost out.”
Rachel whistles. “Damn. You weren’t kidding about it being a big sale.”
“I was not.” I grin as I slide a hundred across the bar to her. “For your troubles.”
She grabs it, dropping it into the tip jar. “You know that’s not necessary. Just like it’s not necessary to give my uncle a cut. He knows what it’s like to be struggling, and he’s just trying to help you like someone once helped him.”
“I know,” I tell her with a shrug. “But just because he’s helping me out doesn’t mean I can’t help him, and you, out too. The kid said this might become a regular thing, so that’s nice.”
“No shit?” Rachel’s eyes shift as someone steps up to the bar. “Duty calls.”
Still smiling, I turn around to return to my walking of the area but find Tyrone right behind me. “Hey, man. What’s up? Do you want to swap?”
“No, what I want is for you to stop peddling your damn drugs. You’re making me complicit in your crimes. I’m not going to lose my job because you’re dealing. Ian is going to find out eventually, and then we’ll both be in trouble.” Tyrone’s eyes flash with anger. “I need this damn job, Damon.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “So do I, Tyrone. In fact, I need both of these jobs plus my daytime job to pay my bills. If you want no part in what I’m doing, all you have to do is ask to not be partnered with me anymore. Just know I’m always scheduled to work VIP, and nothing you say will get me moved.”
“We’ll see about that.” Tyrone stomps back to his spot at the top of the stairs like a petulant child.
Rolling my eyes, I ignore his glares and get on with doing my fucking job. Now I’m going to have to talk to Ian and let him know about Tyrone’s bullshit.
“Hey, Damon,” a gorgeous redhead in her forties calls to me from across the room. It takes me a moment to remember her name—Lyra. She’s a regular in the VIP area, but she’s not one of my customers. I’ve talked to her a few times, and surprisingly, she’s not hit on me.
I’m not saying that because I think everyone should hit on me. It’s just that the women at the club usually only talk to me to try to get in my pants. None of them succeed, but I’ve just never understood what Lyra got out of chatting with me.
“Hi, Lyra. You look lovely tonight.” I allow my eyes to run appreciatively over her. It’s not even a lie. She’s gorgeous and dressed for sin tonight.
She waves my words off. “That’s nice of you, but you know I have no desire to sleep with you.”
“And I have no desire to sleep with you,” I retort, causing her to laugh. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t pay you a compliment when it’s due.”
“At least we’re on the same page. Look, there’s actually something I wanted to discuss with you. I have an opportunity I’d like to share with you.” She gestures for me to take the seat across from her.
Frowning, I wonder what she’s talking about. A quick glance around the VIP area reveals there are only a handful of patrons remaining this close to closing, so I drop into the indicated chair. “What kind of opportunity?”
“One where you’ll make five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Oh?” I perk up at that. That kind of money could go a long way in making sure my mom is taken care of. “Tell me more.”
Lyra pulls a business card out of her purse and slides it across the table to me. Embossed onto the card is A Night to Remember Auction. The only other thing on the card is an email address, giving nothing else away.
Lifting my gaze to her, I frown. “What’s this?”
“The opportunity of a lifetime. I can give you the bare basics so you can make your decision. The auction involves selling off willing merchandise, both men and women, to wealthy clients for the weekend. Once they’re sold, they go with the winners and are returned about forty-eight hours later.”
“A sex auction,” I hiss. “I’ve heard about shit like this, but I thought it was usually unwilling people being sold.”
She laughs. “Not quite the same thing. You’re thinking of human trafficking. What this auction offers is a fantasy weekend for clients with the merchandise of their choice. You wouldn’t be forced to do anything you’re not comfortable with. There’s a screening process on both ends. You’ll be safe.”
“I’m not worried about being safe.” I scoff. “A weekend of sex with a woman—“
“Or man, if you’re into that. Maybe a non-binary. Or even a group of people. The options are endless.”
Well, that’s interesting.
“I’m down for any and all of those options,” I say with a laugh. “A weekend of sex with the winners, and I’m given five hundred thousand dollars? No strings attached?”
“No strings,” she agrees. “All you have to do is send an email to the address on the card to let them know you’re interested in applying for the auction, and the ball will get rolling. They’ll go over everything else with you. I’m just here to give the sales pitch.”
I hum. “And what do you do? Find desperate people and offer it up to them?”
Lyra laughs again. “Not quite. I’m a scout of sorts. I look for people who would make good merchandise, and I offer a choice to them. You work so damn hard, Damon, and I think you could use a break. This could be that for you.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture of the card, sending off the required email before grinning at her. “I could use a break. Thanks, Lyra.”
“Not even going to think about it first?” She looks amused as she taps her perfectly manicured nails on the table.
“Oh, I did think about it. What man in their right mind is going to turn down sex with a stranger in exchange for half a million dollars?” I shake my head. “Not this guy, that’s for sure.”
She nods as she stands. “Then I believe my job here is done. Take care of yourself, Damon.”
“You, too, Lyra.” I stare at the card in astonishment for a few more moments before pushing to my feet. I don’t want to get my hopes up about this because it could fall through, but what a life-changer it would be.