As I’m about to turn back to my desk and get back to these contracts, my cellphone buzzes. I pick it up and unlock the screen, cocking my head at the message.
It’s from a blocked number. Which is unusual, because I have my phone set up to block all incoming messages from blocked numbers.
But that’s not the weirdest part. As I read the message, I can’t help but think I’ve been transported to some new universe.
Dear Mr. Locks, You are cordially invited to bid on the most beautiful women on the market. This auction is only for men of means and power. It is a private event. If interested, simply respond to this message. You were invited by one Mr. Range. See him for any questions. Respond in twenty-four hours. Cordially, The Syndicate.
I read the message over twice before I start to understand what it’s saying.
It’s an invitation to a human auction. I’ve heard about these things, but only as whispers. It’s said that there are places where only the most attractive women are sold for high prices and long periods of time. It’s a way to buy a wife or a mistress even, or maybe just a girlfriend for a week.
I never went looking for these auctions because I never needed to. I know that some of my peers engage in them, because it’s easier to buy a woman for a week than it is to pick one up, but I usually like the chase. It’s fun to seduce and be seduced. These escorts, they’re just a way to fuck and be done with it.
I have no clue why Mack invited me to this auction. Mack Range is one of my closest friends and the owner of a company we often do business with. We’ve been to several parties together and he knows I have no trouble getting women when I want them.
Annoyed, I quickly call Mack up. He answers on the third ring.
“Locks!” he says. “What do you want? I thought you were too busy to talk right now.”
“I just got a really strange message, Mack. From The Syndicate. Know about it?”
There’s a pause, and for a second I think we got disconnected. When Mack finally speaks, he sounds hurried and distracted.
“Let’s meet for lunch,” he says. “I’m buying. We’ll talk about it then.”
“Mack,” I grumble. “You know I can’t. Just tell me what the deal is with this.”
“We can’t talk about it over the phone,” he says softly. “Luciano’s at two. Okay?”
I pause, head cocked. What’s so damn important that we can’t talk about it over the phone?
But then again, the message did say that it was very private. It wasn’t threatening, not exactly, but there’s always a veiled threat when secrecy is involved. It’s always keep this secret, or else.
I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Mack has good taste and has never steered me wrong before. Plus, this secrecy thing has me interested. I want to know more about it now just because I’m not supposed to talk about it.
“Fine,” I say. “You’re definitely buying.”
“See you then.” He hangs up quickly.
I put my phone down and shake my head, not sure what to make of this.
It’s out of nowhere. I was at a party with Mack maybe two months ago, before this merger got too insane. We were talking about women and relationships, and he did say something a little strange. He mentioned paying top dollar for a girlfriend at the time, which I assumed meant that he just pays for lunches and hotel rooms. I laughed and said I was always looking for a deal.
Maybe this is what he was talking about. Maybe he meant he literally pays top dollar.
I’ve never bought pussy before. I never had to. But then again, Mack never has either, or at least I didn’t think he needed to. He’s around my age, a little less rich, but still pretty handsome. I’ve never seen him struggle bringing a woman home before.
If he’s paying for it from these people, it must be serious. Still, the idea of paying for it just seems so strange and foreign to me.
The day passes quickly as I dive back into work. It’s one forty-five by the time I look up again and have to practically run downstairs to get into the company car that takes me over to Luciano’s, a little Italian place on the edge of town.
I’m uncertain as I climb out of the car and instruct the driver to wait for me. I don’t think I’ll stay the whole lunch, considering the mountain of paperwork I have back at the office waiting for me. Besides, this whole thing is about prostitutes, and I’m just... not that interested.
I feel strangely nervous as I step into Luciano’s. I’m not sure why, since Mack is one of my closest friends, but there’s something about this whole thing that has me on edge. The hostess points me to a private booth in the back corner, away from the normal lunch crowd.
I slide into the booth across from Mack. “Didn’t think you’d show,” he says.
“I keep my appointments.” He grins and we shake hands.
Mack has that young boyish charm about him. His beard is close cropped and trimmed, and he always looks very put together. I remember when he first got started, the guy couldn’t wear anything but sweatshirts and jeans. Now he’s in a three-piece suit with an expensive watch. It’s almost like that programmer punk from back in the day doesn’t exist anymore.
I’ve changed over the years, too. I’m just as driven as I once was, but all my youthful naiveté has been beaten out of me. You don’t get this far in business without learning how the world works and how to master it. That inevitably changes a man.
“So, what’s good here?” I ask him.
“The martinis.” He grins.
“Can’t. I have work to do.”
“I bet. All the more reason.” Mack signals at the waitress and she brings over two drinks, obviously already prepared.
I sigh and take mine, thanking her, and take a sip. It’s a good martini, and I can’t help but wonder why Mack is buttering me up.
“Okay, Ethan,” he says. “Before you yell at me, just listen.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to yell.”
“You have that look.”
“What look?”
“You know the one.” He smirks at me. “It’s the ‘I’m a disappointed CEO’ look. Doesn’t work on me, but it can be fucking intimidating anyway.”
“Didn’t know I had a look,” I say, laughing. “But go ahead. Give me your pitch.”
He leans toward me, getting serious all of a sudden. “The pitch is simple. You won’t be disappointed.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
He nods. “That’s it. If you do this thing, you won’t be disappointed.”
“I’m a little disappointed right now. I expected some kind of hard sell.”
“I don’t need to,” he says, shrugging. “Truth is, you’re lucky to get invited.”
“Lucky?” I give him a look. “I don’t need to pay for pussy, you know.”
“Oh, I know that.” He sips his martini and eyes me. “But that’s not what we’re talking about.”
I pause, not sure what he means. “The text said an auction,” I say.
“It’s an auction and it’s for women, but it’s not just for pussy.”
“What else to they do?” I ask. “Clean your house?”