It’s Just Business

Sometimes, I’m still a little shocked at how far I’ve come. I grew up not having a bed to myself until I was in college, and the first pair of brand-new, off the rack jeans I ever owned came during my sophomore year. Until then, everything I owned was a hand me down or thrift store special.

There was a time when my apartment wasn’t much bigger than your average fast food restaurant bathroom, and I could cook dinner without getting out of bed. Heat was a luxury, and in the summer, I cooled myself off as I slept by using a single electric fan, smog or air quality be damned.

Now, my pantry’s bigger than that first apartment, and I sit in the ‘games room’ of my eight thousand square feet, two-floor penthouse. With a touch of a button, I can make this entire place any temperature I want, including the floor. And if I feel like it, at a moment’s notice, I can hop on a private plane and go anywhere in the world in less time than it used to take me to get across town.

And that’s only some of the many things that have changed in my life.

The list could stretch from my balcony all the way down to the street, most likely. But it can all be encapsulated by the fact that I can look at a thousand dollars sitting on the table in between me and the four other men who are joining me tonight and not even blink as Austin takes another small stack of chips and pushes it into the middle. As he said when we talked about setting tonight up, a thousand dollars is pocket change to us. Currently, we’re playing hold ’em, and it’s Austin’s bet. “Raise five hundred.”

“Check, check, check, raise,” Teddy, who’s the dealer this round, complains. “Every fucking hand, he’s the same way. Check his way through unless he has to see someone else’s bet, and only then raise. Never fold, never call. You would think he’s got ice in his veins.”

“Maybe I do, Teddy,” Austin says casually, leaning back in his chair. Teddy’s grumbling is more than likely an act, but Austin’s not going to get baited into revealing his strategy. “But it’ll cost you five hundred to find out.”

Teddy, who’s a mutual acquaintance but not quite a friend to Austin and me, peeks at his cards again and sighs. “Not this time,” he says, tossing his cards toward the muck. “Claire would kill me if I did.”

We all laugh. Teddy is fairly recently married, and his being here tonight is a bit of a surprise considering his first child is on the way in a couple of months. But I suspect that while he loves his wife, Claire, more than life itself, they both needed a few hours to themselves. I’m actually jealous of Teddy in some ways. He wasn’t stabbed in the back by someone he loves and has achieved it all—wife, baby, generational wealth, and most importantly, he seems truly happy.

“Speaking of Claire,” Noah asks, “how’s she doing?” He folded immediately after the flop and is more interested in conversation than the cards on the table.

“Round as a beach ball and never more beautiful,” Teddy sighs wistfully, his eyes going soft at the thought of her. “We’ve both decided that we’re not going to hire an au pair. But that means I’ll be picking up a second full-time job, gentlemen. Daddy.”

“No finer job, in my opinion,” Ollie, who’s also joined us, says. “Enjoy it.”

Teddy deals out the next card, which is no help to me, a three of diamonds. But it’s my move, so I decide to imitate Austin. “Check.”

“Ollie?”

Ollie peeks at his cards and slides a hundred into the pot. “I’m feeling good.”

The bet goes to Austin, who doesn’t even look at his cards. He never does. He’s got them memorized. The man has exactly zero tells in his game, which in some ways, makes him easier to play.

Against Austin, you don’t play the man. You play the math. Ollie’s more complicated, as he’ll act pleased or not pleased with his cards. But how he acts and how good his cards actually are aren’t always the same. You have to play the man and the cards with him.

“Just to change it up for Teddy, I’ll call,” Austin says, sliding the appropriate chips in. It’s a bit of a surprise, but more about fucking with Teddy than changing his game strategy. It’s just Austin being Austin. Turning to me, he looks at me with the emotionless, murderer’s eyes that he can call on in a heartbeat whenever he wants. “Dylan?”

I knew what I was going to do even before Teddy laid out that three, but I still give an appropriate five-second pause before sliding my stack in. “A thousand.”

“The raise is nine hundred,” Teddy announces, and the table goes a little tense. For form’s sake, we’ve limited raises to a thousand, mainly so nobody gets too stupid. Some of us are married, and while a thousand dollars might be simply pocket change to everyone here tonight, nobody wants to get real feelings involved. This is supposed to be a fun, relaxing night for all of us. Not blood sport.

“I think I’ll have a drink instead,” Ollie says, putting his cards down. “No offense, Dylan, but your bar is more fun than your poker table. And it has been much, much more friendly to me tonight.”

“None taken,” I assure Ollie as he gets up and goes over to the bar. “If I can make a recommendation, the DiBaldo saffron gin goes down very well. It’s the golden bottle.”

“Thank you,” Ollie says, finding the bottle. He swirls it around, studying the contents before selecting an appropriate glass from the rack. “You know, I should be upset with you for snatching young Miss Hill from underneath me.”

He says it conversationally, but there’s a bigger question there. I went out of my way to bring Raven to the fundraiser, made a show of her on my arm, introduced her to Ollie as a prime prospect, and then hired her before he got back from his trip to Wyoming. It’s bad form but was also a complete necessity, something he understands. Business is business, even between friends.

“Why do you think my bar is open for you?” I joke, and the guys laugh. And though Ollie smiles good-naturedly and was appreciative for the replacement prospects I sent his way, there’s a shrewdness in his eye as he holds up his tumbler of golden liquor, toasting me. He’s been in this game a long time and knows all the plays and players, and I’m not talking poker. I’m sure he’s heard the rumor about Raven and me by now, and he probably received a call from Evan as well since Raven had an interview scheduled at Ollie’s firm. His raised glass is a friendly warning as much as an appreciation for the drink.

I dip my chin in acknowledgement.

But even the mention of Raven reminds me that it’s been too long since I’ve seen her. In truth, by the clock, it’s been barely over twenty-four hours, but those hours have been hell. I ended up staying late at the office last night, forcing myself to work well into the evening, and then slept like hell.

Today has been worse. I ‘celebrated’ the shitty anniversary by starting with a punishing workout, getting out as much aggression as I could by beating on a heavy bag, imagining it was Evan’s face. Later, a soak in the hot tub, meditation in the sauna, and a cold shower did nothing to improve my mood.

This game has been a welcome distraction, though. And tomorrow, Raven’s mother will return home. I should wait until Monday morning to see Raven again. That would be the reasonable thing to do, but honestly, I’m not sure my sanity can take not seeing her that long. My greedier nature hopes Mrs. Hill has had a lovely visit, takes a morning train, and then I can get Raven to my penthouse on Sunday for a private ‘business’ lesson.

Teddy lays down the last card, an ace of clubs. A little thrill goes through me, and I check, sending the onus to Austin, who also checks. It’s a showdown, a test of wills and mathematics. The money isn’t important.

“Okay, boys, show ’em,” Teddy says, and I flip over my cards, the ace of hearts and the ace of spades. “Three aces.”

Austin’s brows slam down as his eyes fall to my cards. “Shit,” he utters, turning his own hand. He’s got a pocket pair of kings to go with the one from the flop. No wonder he’s been cocky as fuck. He’s known the whole game that his hand was a near-winner.

Until that ace in the river. Now, we both have a three of a kind, but mine’s a higher rank.

I grin, victorious.

Everyone laughs, and as the chips get sorted out and Teddy feeds the cards into the machine to reshuffle them into the shoe, I go and get my own drink. Noah joins me.

“Thanks for the invite tonight,” he says, looking over what’s on offer and selecting a bottle of Neustra Soledad mezcal. “It’s good to get to know everyone.”

That’s the other side of our poker game. Business is discussed here, connections made, and intel shared across the table.

I pluck my favorite tumbler off the shelf. “You’re relatively new in town, right?”

“Just over a year,” Noah answers, pouring his drink.

“Noah’s mostly into real estate,” Austin offers as he joins us and selects a bottle of his favorite, Japanese sake. “Although be careful, Dylan. I hear he’s looking at getting into the restaurant game too.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, and Noah nods. “Good luck. Truth is, I don’t own Lionfish for the profits.”

“Ah, your secret information source,” Noah says, and I give him a sharp look. He shrugs, not meaning to offend. “Don’t worry, Dylan, I think it’s genius. I had a similar setup back home, with a club. Turned a good profit on the books, but the real value was in the club members.”

“I’m sure you can find similar opportunities here in town,” I note. Glancing over at the table, I quickly evaluate his stack of chips. “You play poker well. Either that, or you’re incredibly lucky.” His jaw ticks at the insult of his success tonight coming from luck rather than skill.

“I do okay. Though not half as good as the robot here,” Noah says, nudging Austin with an elbow. “On a serious note, though, I would appreciate if you gentlemen know a good chef looking for an opportunity.”

“I’ll keep my ears open,” Austin promises, and I know he will. If anything, he’ll have that ‘solid’ that Noah might eventually repay him, and it won’t cost him anything to do it. “What about you, Dylan?”

“I can, but I’m not much into that side of the restaurant scene,” I admit. “I leave the running of Lionfish in the hands of those who actually give a damn about the restaurant business. On the other hand, real estate is something I do know a bit about. How’s that going for you here?”

This is the turnabout. He asks about my restaurant as a means to an end for himself, and I flip it back, asking about the real estate he specializes in to see if there might be information or opportunity I’m unaware of. It’s how the game is played. We’re all sifting through the polite conversations for tiny nuggets of intel that might prove valuable in the right circumstances.

“Excellent,” he says, sighing in delight as he takes a sip of his mezcal. “But I suspect you know that already,” he teases. “You own this building, yes?”

I’m not surprised he knows that. He’s new to town, I’m a major player, and he was invited here tonight. If he hadn’t done his homework on me, that would surprise me.

I nod. “Bought it five years ago,” I say, thinking back. “Took over the penthouse three years ago.”

Though he looks around as if seeing the room he’s been in all night for the first time, he’s likely doing some quick mental math about its value then and current worth, and putting that information up against what he knows of the city’s real estate market. “It’s lovely. Probably your housekeeper’s worst nightmare with the black marble, though.” His grin is bright as he gestures to the shiny surfaces in the kitchen, which all gleam with zero fingerprints.

I chuckle. “Honestly, I have no idea because I rarely go in there except to pull something out of the fridge. I can’t tell you the last time I touched anything else in the kitchen. Meghan would probably chop my fingers off,” I tell them, imagining my house manager finding me putting dirty fingerprints all over what’s essentially her space since she’s the one who cooks, cleans, and uses the area. I rarely ever see her, and that’s one of the reasons I hired her. She’s quick, efficient, and I don’t have to lift a finger.

“Remember your roots,” Austin jokes, and we all laugh good-naturedly. At this level, we all have a ‘Meghan’ who helps us. Ollie certainly doesn’t clean his own toilet, and while Teddy says he’ll be changing diapers when the baby comes, he’s not whipping up family meals every night. Our time is better spent elsewhere.

But Austin’s right, the boy I was would never have thought about leaving any sort of kitchen mess for hired help to clean up. Hell, the student I was would save money by patching my clothes and sewing up the holes on my undershirts or workout shirts instead of buying new ones. Even after I started making money, I kept up the practice until I realized that it was costing me more in lost money-making time to patch my old stuff than it would to simply have it mended or replaced for me.

I’ve come a long way since those days, but I still remember them.

“Don’t worry, I still keep a few mementos of the past around,” I tell Austin. He gives me a look of sadness, all too aware that I’m not talking about old T-shirts or childhood toys. The most important things I carry with me from those days are scars that can’t be seen.

But tonight’s game with friends, both new and old, has done a good job of keeping me from picking at them.

“Dylan, your deal,” Teddy calls out, and we rejoin him at the table.

I’m dealing out cards when Teddy suddenly jerks, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Sorry, might be Claire,” he explains.

We don’t have a no-phone rule. None of us can afford to be offline for long because even if the markets are closed, there are hundreds of other things that might happen which would send us immediately to the closest computer to buy, sell, or research something. Even during a night out.

He talks for a moment, promising to come home with chocolate cake, something that Claire urgently needs, apparently, and then hangs up. “Sorry,” he says, but the smile on his face says he didn’t mind the quick check-in with his wife.

“That’s nothing to apologize for,” Ollie says. “Money is good, but family? That’s important.”

“I don’t know, Ollie,” Austin says. He’s as much an avowed bachelor as I am, and a man who’s also seen his fair share of pain. He’s never shared with me all the details, but I’ve seen that familiar haunted look in his eyes that sometimes reflects in my own. “Family love doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Bills?” Ollie echoes, shaking his head and tutting Austin gently. “Austin, each of us in this room has more than enough money to never have to work a day in our lives again if we want. I could liquidate my assets right now and put them in a general, low-interest money market account, and my family wouldn’t have to work for generations. I am literally rich enough to buy an entire country. Maybe not a big one, but still, an entire country. And each of you is close to the same. Am I right?” He doesn’t wait for our agreement, knowing the answer. “But I’d trade it all, every last penny, if the choice was that or my family. They’re irreplaceable.”

Everyone is reflecting on what Ollie just said when Teddy speaks up again, his voice almost contemplative. “‘There comes a time, thief, when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold loses its luster, when the throne room becomes a prison, and all that is left is a father’s love for his child.’”

“What’s that from?” I ask, unsuccessfully trying to place what is obviously a verbatim quote, and Teddy chuckles.

“Conan the Barbarian. Pretty good film. But that’s stuck with me ever since Claire became pregnant.”

Before we can give him too much shit about becoming sappy as hell, Ollie interjects. “I hope and pray that each of you gentlemen understands that someday. Truly.”

It’s kind of hard to argue against that degree of genuine sentimentality, and we fall quiet. Our game’s temporarily forgotten, and I think about how much has changed. It used to be that I would never have thought like this. It wasn’t even an option. I was going to take over the world. He who gets to the top first, while amassing the biggest pile of money, wins. That was it, the entirety of the game plan. But now…

Do I need the whole world?

What would Raven think of my home? Or of my friends, even?This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

What would she think of an oversized television, premium leather couch, or custom-made bed with Egyptian cotton sheets?

Would she see the sacrifices I’ve made to obtain all of this? Or would she see it the same way Austin jokes about my aircraft carrier model, a shallow, if not futile, attempt to make up for a hard childhood?

Would she be impressed by the trappings of wealth I’ve surrounded myself with as a shield to protect myself from my past? Or not give a damn as long as she got me in the deal?

And isn’t that the biggest question of all? Am I enough, or am I simply a means to an end for her?

I don’t know.

I don’t think she’s using me. She’s too naïve, too innocent in her goals for that, but the damage done to my heart doesn’t let outsiders in easily. I might have feelings for Raven, ones that go well beyond my desire for her body and appreciation of her mind, but only time will tell what it means. I don’t know what I want from her, but I know I want more of her. I’m not exactly sure what all I’m willing to give in return, though.

We play a few more hands, but my mood has shifted. I want to see Raven. Fuck, I feel like I need to see her, if for no other reason than to confirm that she’s still mine.

It’s wishful thinking, well beneath my analytical mind, but the foolish desire is there nonetheless, flitting about inside my warped heart.

It’s nearly an hour later when my phone vibrates in my pocket. “Just a minute, gentlemen,” I say, standing up and picking up my glass. “I need a refresher. Anyone else?”

I go over to my bar and open up my phone.

There’s a message from Raven. Thank you for this weekend. Mom loved the hotel.

I’m glad. Are you staying with her tonight?

I need to know where she is, not because I have any claim on her, but so my mind will rest easier as I try to sleep later. It will be a futile attempt, but at least this will be one less concern on my heavy mind.

No, she’s leaving early in the morning and wanted a good night’s sleep. I’m at home.

My heartbeat skips and flips in a noticeable way. She is available. I could go to her, or have her brought here.

Come over. I’ll send a car.

Dylan…

I swallow and type three words that show more weakness than I’d prefer to reveal. I need you. Apparently, you have me addicted.

I need her tonight more than ever. I need the distraction her body offers, the pinpoint focus her smile provides, the relief from the painful past that only she can bring.

I wait, watching for her answer, and when it comes and she’s agreed to come over, I can’t stop the unbidden smile that stretches my mouth. Sending a car now.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and glance up to find everyone’s eyes on me, apparently watching the entirety of my text exchange with Raven play out on my face.

“I know what that grin means,” Austin says.

“I’m sorry to say, that’s the game,” I announce. “Thank you all for coming over, but I’ve got something that needs my attention tonight.”

Teddy grumbles. He’s down about two thousand dollars, while Noah looks curious. Austin raises a brow at my wording, “More like someone needs your attention.” He doesn’t sound upset. If anything, he’s amused at my quick turn of mood.

Austin’s clarification gets Ollie moving quickly. “In that case, I believe we can cash out and be out of here in ten minutes, don’t you, gentlemen?”

Austin starts counting his chips. He’s willing to make a guess, if anything. “We can pick this up another night.”

“That works for me,” I tell them and glance at the clock, eager for them to get out so I can have Raven all to myself.