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Samson filled the four glasses and they toasted.
“So, let’s hear this big idea.” Nick liked to get down to business.
“It’s something we’ve been thinking of dipping our fingers into for a while.” Cobra leaned forward. “Adding an escort service to our bachelor party packages at the Paradise.”
The Serpents owned and operated Ecstasy, a totally legit strip club in North Las Vegas. All high-end strippers, no drugs, no prostitution, nothing sleazy or shady. They recently acquired a smaller nightclub, the Paradise, in the same area which they renovated and recently opened.
Samson sipped at his whiskey. “Isn’t that just a fancy name for hookers?”
“Nah,” Mamba interjected. “These escorts can be upscale, classy. The agency usually throws in some perks like a limo, and the guys sign a contract for a time frame, then after the specific time if things get heated it’s considered personal time.”
“Some of the escort agencies have places just outside Clark County where prostitution is legal. If the guy wants more action they can take the clients there after hours for all kinds of kinky shit.”
“I assume you’ve already researched these agencies,” Nick asked.
Cobra looked every bit the outlaw biker with his leather, tats, and rough edginess, but the man had a steel trap for a brain.Nothing got past him or around him and if he was bringing this deal to the table he’d already done the research.
“A few look good, but I think our best bet is a place called Selective Services.” Cobra pulled his smokes out of his cut, plugged one between his lips and Mamba lit him up. “They’re in California and Vegas, no issues with Metro and they do most of their business online. I’ve asked around and done a background check and the LLC seems solid. No arrests, and no shady partners.”
“And I’m assuming if we both hire them we’ll be entitled to perks and discounts?” Nick learned long ago to make the best deal possible.
“Yeah, if you’re on board I’ll set up a meet with the contact person. I’ve already laid out what we’ll want, but I think a sit down is still necessary.”
“Absolutely.” Nick crushed his cigarette in the ashtray.
“How’s tomorrow afternoon around two?” Cobra offered. “They keep an office suite at the Bellagio.”
“Sounds good.”
The next afternoon Nick and Cobra entered the lobby of the Bellagio Hotel. Of all the famous and elaborate hotels on the Strip the Bellagio was Nick’s favorite. From the circular drive around the outrageous fountains to the rush of people in the lobby which boasted a conservatory they changed with the seasons. The clean scented air and the overall opulence energized Nick and gave him a good overall feeling about their upcoming meeting with Selective Services.
They approached the concierge who had an elevator pass key for the private elevator going to the thirty-sixth floor of the hotel.Apparently, Selective Services converted one of the suites into meeting rooms for their prospective clients.
“Are we connecting with the owner?” Nick asked as the elevator whooshed them to the top floor.
“We’re meeting with one of the partners.”
Nick digested the information happy they wouldn’t be dealing with some flunky who couldn’t make a final decision. If the deal was right, Nick wanted to put this together today. Nothing he hated more than wasting time on bullshit.
Cobra and Nick exited the elevator and made their way down a ridiculously long corridor to room 3608. Nick knocked on the thick wooden door and waited.
A latch released, the door swung open, and a woman in her mid-forties, dressed in a tailored cream colored skirt and blazer smiled then stepped to the side for them to enter.
She extended her hand to Cobra, then Nick. “I’m Isabelle Torres, one of the partners of Selective Services.”
“This is Nick Sinclair,” Cobra said. “The one I mentioned who’s also interested in your services.”
Isabelle ushered them from the foyer to a sitting area overlooking the Bellagio fountains. “Please take a seat.”
The suite was decorated more like a living room than an office space complete with a plush sofa, matching chairs, and a full granite top bar adorned with cut glass tumblers and an array of liquors. A closed door past the bar designated another room.
Nick and Cobra exchanged a quick look. Isabelle’s slim figure gave her a graceful air as she motioned to the bar. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
They both declined and Isabelle eased into the chair opposite them slipping a MacBook onto her lap. “I believe Cobra and I have gone over most of the basics but I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Call me Nick.”
Isabelle smiled and waited. Nick didn’t exactly know what he expected from an escort service, but this put together woman in this luxurious suite took him by surprise. Coming from New York in the old days, most of the people who promoted escorts to their clubs were as sleazy as one would expect.
