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But it would make…hundreds of billions.
“Mr. Kleeberger,” I say to Max by way of greeting as I sit down. Chloe and whatever her blonde friend’s name is sit down next to me.
“Mr. Strong,” Max says, as he takes a sip of his drink. “I’m glad you could come to discuss your offer in my humble club.”
I take a look around. It’s your standard Manhattan strip club. It’s got the Wall Street types, the suburban dads, the tourists, and of course it’s got the girls.
So many topless, gyrating, lithe women looking to make a buck.
Definitely a place to come if you wanted to play. Somewhere I’m probably looking to spend a couple hundred thousand dollars on any other night.
But tonight?
I’m looking to spend several million dollars.
“I’ve wondered if you got a chance to look at my offer, Mr. Kleeberger,” I ask.
“Please call me Max,” he offers.
“It’s worth 25 million dollars,” I tell him. “An amount like that and you could retire from the strip club business.”
“That’s very generous of you, Darian,” he says. “But I want something more.”
“Name it, Max,” I say, leaning back and taking a scotch the waiter puts in front of me. “I’ve got the world by a fucking string. I date the hottest women and I own the best properties. I’m sure there’s nothing you could ask for that I can’t give.”
“I want more money,” he begins.
“Done,” I say. “I’ll give you 50 million dollars.”
“And I want a seat on your Board of Directors.”
Holy shit. What the fuck is this? I sit back up, holding my drink and narrowing my eyes.
“You want a seat on my Board?” I ask. “Why would you want that?”
He shrugs. “If you’re going to be buying my whole business lock stock and barrel, I want to be part of whatever it gets combined with. It’s not so much to ask.”
“Mr. Kleeberger, I say, forgetting the booze in front of me and the girls sitting on either side. “I run a multi-billion dollar company that does business all over the city. Why would I give you a coveted Board seat just to sell me a rinky-dink shitty strip club in the middle of Midtown?”
Max shrugs again. He seems to do that a lot.
“Because you want this strip club so badly,” he says to me. “And you want the land underneath. You probably have conditional agreements to buy the other business on this block. So you could build something big.”
“So what if I do?” I ask.
“That makes this rinky dink shitty strip club much more valuable than if it were by itself,” he tells me.
“Well, guess what?” I say. “I can just as easily go build somewhere else. It’s not like anyone else could match what I’m offering. So maybe don’t go trying to get so fucking greedy.”
“I’m not being greedy,” he says to me with a gleam in his eye. “I’m just trying to get what’s fair.”
“Why don’t I raise the offer to 100 million dollars, Max?” I ask. “It’s a lot of money. You can’t beat it.”
“I want the Board seat,” Max says. “And if you don’t give it to me, I’ve got someone in mind who probably would.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Him,” Max says, pointing with one hand behind me.
I turn around to see a blonde haired, well kept, athletic man in a sharply tailored suit walking up to us.
The one guy I hate the most. My rival and the only person in this city who tries to one up me as many times as I do to him.
Bidding on this same contract?
Pete fucking Silver.
Great.
