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“Oh, so you have to leave like now?”
I nod. “Sorry, I need to be in San Francisco for my five-o’clock meeting.”
“Who the hell has meetings at that time?”
“People who hate their staff.” I laugh.
“When will you be back?”
“I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll call you?”
“You better.”
I didn’t callher while I was in San Francisco. I texted her here and there, however my schedule was a little more packed than I expected it would be by looking at it on paper. And I made my apologies by sending her voice texts rather than actual texts. Upon arriving back in Empire City, my driver took me straight to Brookhaven for my monthly poker game with the guys.
There’s ten of us who built a relationship out of common interests and money.
We’re gathered around the ornate table in the Whispering Oaks Society poker room. Whiskey glasses clink together as we settle into our seats, the sound of shuffling cards filling the air.
Among the group of ten guys was Dr. Benjamin Reynolds, a renowned surgeon and budding inventor, whose latest breakthrough has been the talk of the town. Dressed in a sharp suit, he exuded an air of confidence as he surveyed the table with a knowing smile.
“So, Ben, tell us about this thing you’ve done.” Musician, Asher Knight asks. “Pretend that I know medical stuff.”
Ben chuckled, his eyes amused at the statement. “It’s a revolutionary new surgical tool that I’ve been working on for the past few years. It’s designed to make complex procedures faster and more precise, ultimately saving lives in the operating room.”
The other players at the table nod in appreciation. “Sounds like you’ve been busy. When do you sleep?” I ask.
“I don’t.” He grins.
As the game progressed, the conversation turned to lighter topics, with the guys swapping stories and sharing laughs as we played our monthly game. We went through topics varying as sports, and the merits of wine, and even gossiped like girls about the latest scandals rocking high society and finally to relationships.
“Women, am I right?” Lincoln, the group’s token forever bachelor, remarks with a wry grin. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”
The others laughed in agreement, nodding in solidarity as they commiserated over the challenges of dating in the modern world.
“Tell me about it,” Madison Bridges chimed in, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “They’re like a riddle wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in an enigma.”
The game draws to a close, and we all cashed in our chips and finished our drinks. Every month, the ten of us get together here and play a few rounds of poker. Despite our differences and our struggles, we all have two things in common. We’re all rich as fuck, and we’re all part of the same private club.
“You going far tonight, Davenport?” Asher asks.
“I have my cabin in Brookhaven that I stay at when I’m away from the city.”
“You got a chick back at this cabin?” Reynolds questions.
“Nah man, my time in Brookhaven is my time. I don’t share that with anybody.”
“You got some super secret shit over there? Pictures of clowns or dead bodies?”
I laugh and shake my head as I put on my suit jacket.
“You never know. Dead bodies of clowns sound perfect. Clowns are scary as fuck, man.”
