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“This is different. These massage parlors are going to make bank. More people have moved out of the city lately, so demand in the suburbs has skyrocketed.”
“Massage parlors in the ‘burbs aren’t new.”
“There’s more demand than supply.”
“What is the six or seven thousand going to buy?”
“One of the parlors is a little close to residential, so we might need to retain a lawyer in case neighbors want to take us to the planning commission or city council or some shit like that.”
“What else?”
“Maybe more massage beds.”
I stare hard at Manny. “And how much is going to your gambling debt?”
Manny chuckles nervously again. “You know me well, don’t you, Darren?”
I don’t say anything, which makes Manny fidget more.
“Those PSB boys play a mean game of poker,” Manny says.
“How much?” I demand.
“Eighteen hundred. But like I said, I’ll pay you back. With interest. If you loan me this money, man, I promise you’ll make it back. Because once people like Lee Hao Young see how successful I am, they’ll finally take me seriously. And, unlike JD, who basically inherited everything from his dad, I’ll be self-made. And that’s worth a hell of a lot more. Self-made.”
“How do I know, if I give you any amount of money, that you aren’t going to spend it on more Armani suits?” I question.
“Darren, I’ve never been more serious about anything before.”
Manny speaks in earnest, but this wouldn’t be the first venture that excited him and that he was convinced would make him. Poor Manny has struck out more times than an entire baseball team.
I consider offering to pay expenses, like the lawyer, directly, but I don’t want my name associated with the parlors. Plus, I don’t want to deal with any administrative hassles of making individual payments.
I sigh and get up, ready to see if Bridget has arrived. “I’m not investing in any massage parlors, but I’ll loan you eighteen hundred to cover your gambling debt. If I don’t get any of that back in three months, that’s the last dime you’ll ever get out of me.”
“Darren, you won’t regret this!”
“I already do.” I walk past him, pausing only to say, “No more Armani.”
Outside the office, I inform Cheryl to handle the disbursement to Manny.
“Your guests, Amy and Bridget, arrived five or so minutes ago,” my manager says. “They’re up on your floor.”
I head upstairs where I find Amy Liu, a petite young woman who’s lightened her normally black hair, curled up next to JD, but no Bridget.
“She went to the restroom,” Amy explains.
Luckily, JD and Amy are so into each other, I don’t have to make a lot of small talk while I wait for Bridget. After more than ten minutes pass, I wonder aloud if Bridget’s okay. Looking over the balcony, I don’t see her anywhere.
“I’ll go check on her,” Amy offers.
JD turns to me. “So what did Manny want?”
“Money.”
JD rolls his eyes. “What a fucking loser.”
“Not everyone’s born rich.”
