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CHAPTER TWELVE
Tom
I knew we shouldn’t have done the interview with the new girl. There was no need. Joanie had been gone only a couple hours. Hell, maybe she’d stepped out to grab a bagel, who knew?
But Helena had already booked the interview, and it was too late to cancel.
“Naw,” I grunted into the phone. “No need to send a new girl over.”
But the woman had been insistent.
“I think you’ll like Crystal,” she pushed. “She’s just your type.”
And what could we do? The texts we sent to Crystal’s number telling her not to come went unanswered. Likely, her cell was dead or lost. A lot of these girls are so flighty they have no idea where their phone is most times.
So when the knock came on the door, I shot a warning glare at my brothers.
“Keep it real,” I said sotto voce. “We’ll get her out of here in fifteen.”
And the woman who showed up was okay. Helena was right in some respects. We liked her body for sure. Massive Double D tits swung and beckoned. Wide hips curved sassily, begging to be touched.
But the blonde was nothing compared to Joanie. There wasn’t an ounce of sweetness in those blue eyes. Instead, they were canny like a fox, sizing me up in a flash.
“Oh hi,” she cooed. “I’m here for the job with Elite Air.”
And without waiting to be invited, Crystal waltzed inside wearing pink velour sweats that were about two sizes too small, with the word “Hot” emblazoned in rhinestones on the back. Ugly, if you asked me. I much preferred Joanie’s modest yet simple way of dressing. This girl was brassy and flashy by comparison, her hair a too-bleached blonde, ironed straight to look like Paris Hilton.
But fine. Let’s just get this over with. And perching herself sassily on the couch, the blonde introduced herself to my brothers.
“I’m Crystal,” she purred. “But you can call me Crys if you want. Whatever you like boys,” she cooed flirtatiously, tossing a fall of that straw-like hair over her shoulder. “Any time you want,” the girl added lasciviously.
Gross. We like our females to know their place, and clearly Crys didn’t know hers at all. She was so cocksure and confident, used to having men kneel in her presence.
But we weren’t like that. Number one, we’re the kings. We don’t kneel to anyone. And second, there was no job to fill. This was an informational interview at most. Not even that. It was just fifteen minutes of air time to fill, and then she’d be gone.
So we made chitchat about nothing, revealing the barest facts about Elite Air.
“So how many jets do you have?” she smiled acquisitively, almost licking her lips. “Two? Three? Or maybe six? There are six of you,” she grinned.
In fact, we did have six jets. But no need to tell the truth.
“Just one,” rumbled Damien, eyes shuttered. “It’s enough for all of us.”
“Oh,” pouted Crystal, lip sticking out. “I thought there might be one for each billionaire.”
We exchanged looks. Who told her we were billionaires?
“Naw, Helena’s got you thinking we’re Donald Trump,” Charlie said smoothly. “We’re nowhere near that level. Rich enough to share some flight time, sure, but our plane’s mortgaged to the hilt. In fact, Andrew, did you make that last payment?”
His twin slapped his head like a silly schoolboy.
“Oh my god, forgot,” Andrew huffed, rolling his eyes. Shit, my man’s acting was so over the top that I almost laughed. But my lips stayed in a frown, body motionless. No need to give the farce away.
“Is it too late?” Aaron chimed in, fumbling for his cell. “Maybe I can call the bank and get our deadline extended. But we were already late last month,” he said with a mock frown. “I don’t think they’ll be so nice again.”
That did it. The overall impression was that we were guys living above our means. We were rich, sure, but just medium rich. Not the kind of billionaire that you hope to meet as a stewardess for a charter airline. More in the category of the well-to-do dentist from Iowa.
So Crystal’s lips turned into a sneer.
