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The second round arrives. Vlad groans, but we bully him into chugging it down. By the time he’s wiping the foam off his lip, he’s tipsy enough to argue that the Chili Peppers just might be the greatest rock band of all time.
“When you count up … all the years they’ve been going … and all the hits they’ve had … not to mention … how fuckin’ rad Anthony Kiedis is … it’s indisputable …”
“Why’d you get him going on that?” Jasper says. “Now he’ll never shut up.”
Even Jasper is showing the effects of two boilermakers. The faintest tinge of pink has come into his pale cheeks, and he sounds amused instead of irritated as he tells Vlad that Anthony Kiedis doesn’t hold a candle to Freddie Mercury, “Or Billie Joe Armstrong, for that matter …”
Sensing his moment, Adrik says to Jasper, “Sabrina had an idea for a new product.”
Jasper hesitates. “Is that right?”
Under the table I hear asnickas he flicks his zippo open.
“Yeah,” Adrik says. “A party pill.”
“Molly already exists,” Vlad says.
“Leave it to a Russian to drink vodka out of a bottle and call it a cocktail,” I say. “This will be a hybrid drug—already mixed for you. One pill, with a time-delay release.”
Jasper’s eyes sweep over my face. Under the table, the zippo snaps shut again.
“One pill?” Vlad scoffs. “Why sell one when you can sell a whole bottle?”
“Because,” I say, speaking clear and direct across the table, “everybody sells the same coke, the same molly, the same weed. This will be a custom experience. Exclusive to us.”
Jasper’s jaw shifts as if he’s biting the inside of his mouth. He doesn’t like that I’m already saying “us.” He doesn’t want there to be anus.
“Who’s gonna make it?”
“Me,” I say. “And maybe Hakim.”
Jasper perceives in a glance that Adrik is already on board with the idea, enthusiastic even. So he doesn’t argue, though I’m sure he’d like to.
He shrugs, saying, “We can try it. We can sell it in the strip clubs.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s a premium offering. We need to sell it in the Soho Rooms, in all the fanciest clubs. We brand it and stamp it—sell it to the models and the trust fund babies. If they want it, then everyone will want it.”
This is Jasper’s chance to try to make me look stupid.
In the tone of an adult forced to explain physics to a toddler, he says. “Yuri Koslov sells in Soho. We can’t just waltz in and peddle our product anywhere we want. We have agreements in the strip clubs, not in the nightclubs.”
“Then we need new agreements,” I say.
Jasper throws Adrik a look. It means,Get your bitch on a leash.
Adrik ignores the look, considering the issue at hand, not the squabble.
At last he says, “We’ll start in the strip clubs.”
Jasper smirks.
“In the private rooms, to the premium clients,” Adrik says. “If it’s popular, we’ll expand from there.”
“It will be popular—” I start, but Adrik holds up his hand to cut me off.
“Make it and test it first. Then we can talk about where to sell it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jasper says, superior and satisfied.
