Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2

by Olivia Thorne

  I don’t know how good he was against professional poker players, but in here, Vic was a god among men.

  Within forty-five minutes, he had cleaned out the entire table. I’m not entirely sure how much money he’d won, but I’m guessing it was somewhere in the neighborhood of four million dollars. A crowd of over a hundred people had gathered to watch.

  And Bradley was pissed.

  Three hundred fifty thousand had apparently been an insult. This was an injury – though only to his pride, not his pocketbook. Any time Bradley ran out of money, he just clicked his fingers and somebody deposited another stack of chips in front of him. Which he then promptly lost to Vic.

  “I hope you can back all this up,” Vic said cheerfully as he raked another pot into his corner.

  “It’s not a problem,” Bradley seethed.

  “‘Cause what I heard is it’s strictly cash and carry,” Vic said with a smile. Then he turned around. “Hey, where’s that asshole Domenico? I want to take his money, too!”

  “He left,” Bradley grumbled.

  “Oh. Only smart one at the party, then,” Vic said, then added, “Besides me, of course.”

  All the goading just made Bradley even angrier – and dumber. On the next hand, he went all in – and lost with a pair of aces to Vic’s flush.

  “God DAMN it,” Bradley snarled as Vic raked more of his money across the table.

  Vic looked at me and winked.

  Don’t get so cocky, buddy, I wanted to say. Yeah, you’ve been taking his money… but that’s a long way from what we bet on.

  “Hey,” Vic said as he stacked his towers of chips, “how’d you like to play for something a little more substantial?”

  “What,” Bradley glowered.

  “Well, we play for regular cash until one of us goes all in…”

  “…and?”

  “If you win, you get all your money back, plus everybody else’s, plus the half a mil I walked in here with… AND you get bragging rights that you whipped Vic Cortelian’s ass at poker.”

  That got his attention.

  Bradley leaned forward. “And if you win…?”

  “My uncles supply the second round financing for your company.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Was Vic right?!

  Is Middleton going to go for it?!

  Not yet, he wasn’t. He got a hard look on his face. “Their terms are pathetic.”

  Vic did a little sideways shrug like Ya got me. “Look, Bradley – I’m not going to bullshit you. They want me to offer you $100 million for 10% of your company, but they’re willing to go to $120 million. So that’s what we’ll play for.”

  What the hell kind of negotiation was this?!

  I stared at Vic. He shrugged like What do you want out of me?

  But Bradley was smarter than that. “No way in hell. That only puts our valuation at 1.2 billion. I’ve got other offers on the table that put us at three billion – ”

  “Yeah, but how much cash are they willing to front?” Vic asked. “Thirty million? Fifty million?”

  Silence from Bradley.

  Vic shook his head. “Whatever it is, I bet it’s nowhere near 120, which is what you need to grow.”

  “I can fund my own business at $120 million,” Bradley sneered. “Easily.”

  “You could,” Vic admitted, “but we both know how the game is played. Companies don’t get to IPO anymore unless they’re partially owned by the big boys, because it’s the big boys who grease the tracks and generate the hype. If only one guy gets to profit from an IPO, then nobody gives a shit. Everybody wants a piece of the pie – otherwise nobody gets a piece of the pie. So if you want some pie, Bradley, you gotta play ball. And my uncles have got all the bats and catcher’s mitts you’ll ever need.”

  “Your uncles can suck my dick,” Bradley snarled.

  Vic turned around to the gathered crowd and said, “I’d pay to see that, actually.” Then he turned back to Bradley. “Not that I’m saying you’re gay. I mean, if you are, more power to you, just not my cup of tea. And I wouldn’t actually watch, that’d be gross – but it would make me SO happy just to know those two old fuckers had to suck a bag of dicks.”

  Oh God.

  I figured I’d leave that part out of the report.

  Bradley frowned. “So why are you trying to help them?”

  Vic settled back in his seat. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

  “Come work for me.”

  Okay, this was a weird turn of events.

  Either the rivalry between these two wasn’t a real rivalry, or… it was a frenemies kind of thing?

  Vic chuckled. “You can’t afford me.”

  Bradley scoffed. “Bitch, I can afford anybody except Zuckerberg and Gates.”

  “You’re gonna pay me to party with these girls on a yacht?”

  Bradley looked astounded. “Your uncles pay you to do that?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why?”

  Vic smiled. “For moments like this.”

  There was silence in the room. Nobody in the crowd of a hundred said a word.

  Vic and Bradley just stared at each for 30 seconds, neither of them moving –

  Until Bradley said, “If I win, you have to post it on your Instagram account that you lost to ME.”

  The crowd laughed.

  Vic winced. “Ooh.”

  “Ohhhhh yeah. With ‘Loser Little Dick Vic’ written on your forehead in sharpie, and, and – and a drawing of a tiiiiny dick,” Bradley said, holding his thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart. “With an asterisk next to it saying, ‘Actual size.’”

  The crowd roared in approval.

  Vic cocked his head to the side and made a face like wasn’t sure he could go there. “Shit – now you’re talkin’ HIGH stakes.”

  “You in or are you out, motherfuckaaaaa?” Bradley said, like Mr. Chow from The Hangover.

  Vic paused…

  The entire crowd leaned in…

  So did Bradley…

  And Vic slammed the table. BAM! “I’m in.”

  The entire room erupted.

  You would have thought somebody’d sunk the winning shot in the last game of the NBA Championship.

  But this was Nerd World, so it was a billion-dollar start-up’s valuation versus ‘Little Dick’ written on a guy’s face in Sharpie.

  47

  Things proceeded fairly normally for the next two hands, with Vic folding on the first one and Bradley winning a small pot on the second.

  But on the third hand, Vic went all in.

  The first three up cards had just been played – a nine of hearts, and a four and a king of spades.

  Bradley looked at his two hole cards, the ones none of us could see.

  “You in or you out?” Vic asked.

  Bradley paused… then nodded. “I’m in.”

  The room roared.

  Vic held up a finger. Immediately the entire crowd quieted down. “Just so we’re clear – if I win this, you agree to sign with my uncles for $120 million for ten percent of your company.”

  “And just so we’re clear, if I win, I get to draw ‘Loser Little Dick Vic’ and a penis on your forehead – in Sharpie – and then someone else will take a picture of both of us, and you will post it to your Instagram RIGHT NOW, and it will stay on there for the rest of eternity. Yes?”

  “Eternity’s a long time,” Vic said.

  “Yes or no?”

  Vic grinned. “Hell yes, let’s do this.”

  The room erupted again.

  They both flipped their cards over.

  Vic had two kings as his hole cards – which gave him three of a kind.

  But Bradley had two spades, which put him one card away from a flush.

  Which would beat three of a kind.

  “Oh God,” I whispered.

  “You know the odds of me getting a spade on the next card, don’t you?” Bradley asked.

  “About one in five,” Vic sai
d.

  “And a 35% chance that I get it by the end.”

  “Don’t forget, I’m still winning,” Vic said.

  “For now.”

  Bradley looked at the dealer and pointed at the table.

  She picked up the card and snapped it down –

  I held my breath.

  Ten of spades.

  Bradley had his flush.

  “You’re not winning anymore!” he shouted in elation.

  The entire room went wild. People were screaming and jumping up and down.

  Bradley got up from his chair, pumped his arms in the air, and started doing a victory lap.

  My reaction was a little more complicated than that.

  On one hand, we’d just lost the contract that Vic’s uncles had tasked us with getting.

  On the other hand, Vic was now my virtual slave for the next 30 days. A full month of good behavior, guaranteed.

  Not to mention a tidal wave of relief swept through me.

  I won’t have to have sex with him!

  Although that little voice from earlier could be heard whining, Awwww…

  For a guy about to be publicly humiliated with a Sharpie, though, Vic seemed remarkably upbeat.

  “What are you so happy about?” I shouted over the din.

  “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings,” he shouted back.

  “He’s got his flush!”

  “All I know is, it’s ALWAYS bad luck to celebrate prematurely. In fact, anything happening prematurely is disappointing, isn’t it?” he yelled with a wink.

  “Well, then, you’ve saved from me having to be disappointed.”

  “Noooo, baby, don’t you worry – I can go alllll night long.”

  Somewhere in my belly, there was a little flutter of warmth, and that voice whined Awwwww all over again.

  “Where’s the pen?!” Bradley yelled at the top of his lungs. “Where’s the Sharpie?!”

  “Hold on – hold on, hold on, simmer down,” Vic shouted.

  Bradley shushed the crowd, and they quieted to where he could be heard with a regular speaking voice. “I’m afraid you lost, Vic. Or should I say, ‘Little Dick Vic.’”

  “I got one more card left.”

  “Do you know the odds of you hitting any of the cards you need?” Bradley asked.

  “…pretty low,” Vic admitted.

  “16.4%,” Bradley said.

  Vic made a Huh face. “I’m impressed you know that.”

  “I’m not a math geek for nothin’.”

  Vic shrugged. “Eh… I’m not worried.”

  Bradley’s voice dripped with condescension. “And why’s that?”

  “Because I…”

  Vic paused for drama.

  “…am the luckiest motherfucker I know. And I’d rather be lucky than good any day.”

  Vic turned to the female dealer.

  “Darlin’, if you would?”

  She played the last card.

  Four of diamonds.

  Which made three kings and two fours – a full house for Vic.

  Which beat Bradley’s flush.

  There was a stunned silence – and then the crowd erupted again. Screaming, yelling, hooting, hugging. The nerd boys even got to hug a few of Vic’s bouncing models, until the women came to their senses and pushed them away.

  I even screamed and jumped once, overcome by the excitement.

  Bradley stood there in shock, then slowly sank into his chair, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

  Vic looked up at me. “Wow, you sure are happy.”

  “You won!” I shouted over the crowd.

  “Yeah, which means somebody’s having sex with me tonight,” he grinned.

  The smile immediately disappeared from my face.

  OH SHIT.

  48

  After the crowd had dispersed, Bradley stood there looking sour as hell – like the Grinch a week before Christmas. Or Ahab’s first encounter with Moby Dick, after the whale ate his leg. Or any of the people – Republicans or Democrats – who lost to Donald Trump in 2016.

  I knew exactly how he felt.

  “So, when do you want to sign on the dotted line, my man?” Vic asked.

  “Come by the office on Monday,” Bradley grumbled.

  Vic slapped Bradley on the back. “Cheer up, dude! It could have been worse.”

  Bradley looked at Vic like he wanted to kill him. “HOW.”

  “I might not have brought along a consolation prize,” Vic said, and stepped back. “Ladies?”

  All six models in his entourage immediately launched themselves at Bradley and started pulling him towards the nearest bedroom, giggling and groping him as they went.

  Bradley’s face turned from How the HELL did I get so unlucky? to Oh my GOD, how did I get so LUCKY?!

  “Don’t break him, ladies!” Vic called out playfully. “I need him to sign a contract first thing Monday morning!”

  Then he saw my look of extreme disapproval.

  “What?”

  “So you’re winning business for your uncles through prostitution? Lovely.”

  “Actually, no, I already won the business, I’m just making him feel better about it. And it’s not prostitution.”

  “Oh, right – so you’re not paying them to go to bed with him?”

  “Not unless promising to feature them on my Instagram page is paying them.”

  “It kind of is.”

  “Whatever. He’s a billionaire – they were chomping at the bit to do this. Just watch, they’re totally going to try to outdo each other in there. It’s gonna be like the Hunger Games for gold-diggers. Besides, it’s nothing they haven’t done with me.”

  UGH.

  I made a face like I’d just passed a particularly ripe sewer. “You’re disgusting.”

  “I am, aren’t I?” he grinned. “Speaking of disgusting, I think you and I have a little bet to settle, don’t we?”

  My stomach churned. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

  “Oh, I’m entirely serious.”

  I narrowed my eyes in anger. “You are vile, you know that?”

  He backed up and said with way too much enthusiasm, “It sounds to me like somebody is welching!”

  I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “No – ”

  He pointed his finger. “You’re a fuckin’ welcher is what YOU are!”

  “NO, I just…” I shuddered, then looked around and whispered, “Not here.”

  “Your place or mine, then?”

  I closed my eyes in revulsion and tried to list the pros and cons.

  If we went to my place, it was essentially just a hotel room. I didn’t have to live there with any reminders. Although I’d probably have to sleep there until the next morning, rather than request a new room immediately…

  Ugh.

  If we went to his place, at least it would be somewhat nicer. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would look like a frat house after a month of partying.

  I would feel safer in my hotel room. Sort of.

  It would be harder to kick him out of my place, but I could leave from his house anytime I wanted to. Theoretically.

  But I didn’t have a car.

  Oh well, that’s why God made Uber: so the Walk of Shame could turn into the Drive of Shame.

  How the hell had I gotten myself into this choice between crap options?

  Never, EVER take a ‘surefire’ bet from Vic Cortelian EVER again.

  “Well?” he prodded.

  Call it.

  “My place,” I grumbled.

  He grinned. “Now we’re talkin’.”

  I tried everything else I could to stall. “I want you to get tested first.”

  “We’ll be using a condom.” He gave me a wink. “Don’t want any little Beards walking around anytime soon.”

  Oh GOD no. The thought was horrifying.

  Not that it was any danger with me. I was on birth control – but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “I d
on’t care,” I said. “You can still catch stuff even with condoms.”

  “No problem – I just got tested three days ago. I’m clean.”

  I squinted suspiciously. “Isn’t that convenient.”

  He shrugged. “I always get tested, once a month.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve had sex since then.”

  “Nope.”

  “Don’t lie to me – there was that girl on the boat yesterday afternoon!”

  “Nope. We just ended up playing video games.”

  I stared at him. “What?!”

  “Yup.”

  “So… that weird comment about sore thumbs, that’s what that was?”

  “Yup.”

  “WHY DID YOU LIE?!”

  He shrugged. “I got a rep to keep up.”

  “How much of your life is actually real, and how much do you fake for social media?!” I fumed.

  “What does it matter?” he asked. “I just bagged a multi-billion-dollar deal for my uncles, mostly because of my so-called ‘fake’ life.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, I throw parties on yachts, which is how I met this guy named Lenny… and because my persona is a hard-partying poker player, he introduced me to Bradley a couple of months ago – ”

  “Okay, okay, fine,” I interrupted, irritated that he was right.

  “But don’t worry – everything that’s going to happen over the next couple of hours between you and me will be completely real.”

  GREAT.

  “We could just play videogames, too, and lie to everybody about it afterwards,” I suggested.

  “Nope,” he grinned. “I’m looking forward to it too much.”

  I gave him a sarcastic smile. “Well, that makes one of us.”

  49

  The limo ride back to my place was torture. At least the hoochie squad wasn’t with us.

  Vic was exuberant, especially on the phone with his uncles. “Guess what, bitches?! He signed! Go aheeeeead – go aheeeeead – ”

  I just shook my head as he danced in his car seat.

  Then he paused as his uncles said something on the other end.

  “No, but – well, he’s GOING to – yes, first thing Monday morning!”

  Pause.

  “NO, I am not going to go back there and interrupt, uh, what’s going on to have him sign now!”

  Pause.