I had first been approached by Max Kleeberger through my lawyer. He was a small man asking if I’d like to do a deal. At first I was about to say no but then I did some due diligence and found out all of the tenants on the block were looking to sell and get rights to something bigger.
What can I say? It’s a marvelous opportunity.
And for a business focused person like me, it’s enough of an opportunity to come into a strip club on a Friday night when every other loser in the world who can’t get laid is here hoping to live out the fantasy so that I could talk business with Max.
“Now, gentlemen,” he says, leaning back in his chair and intertwining his fingers. “What can you offer me?”
God, what a slimy fucking sleaze bag. I sit down.
“I’ll offer one hundred million, like I said,” Darian says.
“I’ll take that to one hundred and five million,” I counter. I came prepared for this.
“I require a seat on the Board of Directors,” Max replies back. “No matter the sum of money.”
Wait.
What?
He wants to be involved in the greater decision making of Silver Real Estate Holdings?
I mean, the lot itself that this tiny strip club is sitting on is worth enough that that it could triple the value of my company.
But to give up a seat on my Board?
“I’ll leave you two to decide who gets this prize,” he says with a gleam in his eye. I watch warily as Max gets up and walks out of the VIP section.
Leaving me with Darian.
“I should have known you’d be here,” Darian says. “I had a good thing and you had to come in and ruin it.”
“It doesn’t look like you had a good thing going in here at all,” I say. “In fact it looks like you were fucking it up like normal.”
“Look who's talking Warehouse King.”
I sigh. Like this shit really insults me? It's just boring now.
“You know what, Darian?” I ask after a moment. “You’re a fucking child.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve always been an emotionally stunted little miscreant,” I say. “You never grew up. You’re just like you were in college.”
“I should have moved out of the dorm the day you moved in,” he sneers.
“I mean you’d be doing the same thing as now,” I say, gesturing to the two ladies on each side of him. “You can’t think of anything but cheap mindless sex and thrills. You got successful by mistake. It wasn’t luck. It was just dumb stupid mistakes on the part of the world.”
“I worked for everything I have!” he yells.
“You never worked for anything,” I say. “Not real work.”
“Yeah? Because I didn’t play football to pay for college?” he challenges. “I was making money my own way.”
“As a fucking male stripper!”
“Don’t fucking judge me, asshole.”
“I’m not judging you,” I say. “It’s a waste of time. You’re a waste of time.”