Ray’s business is in lower downtown, not very far from our place, but I never walk there. It’s got a sketchy approach because you have to bypass the trendy part of LoDo and weave your way into the more industrialized area on the other side of Union Station. And even though it’s probably only a mile or two to walk, I just don’t do it. I’m not afraid of a fight. But why start one if you don’t have to?
The assholes who work those corners, either with bitches or drugs, are strung out. They have no business sense. They just don’t get it.
I mean, look. I make porn, but I don’t do porn. Hell, I don’t even watch porn. I get enough dirty sex in my daily life. If I want to see a guy get his dick sucked by a whore, I have JD for that.
That makes me laugh, even though that asshole is upstairs fucking my Blue Eyes right now, I just know it. Normally he doesn’t fuck the girls, but I can feel this one-upmanship going on between us today. I just know he’s gonna fuck her.
But these wannabe thugs down here by Ray’s place all double-dip. They sell the girls and fuck the girls. They sell the drugs and do the drugs. It’s not good to get attached to your product.
So I drive.
I pat my red Dodge Viper as I pass her by. Poor baby gets no action around here. I drive her to Vegas or So Cal, when I need to do business out of state. But to rumble down to Ray’s, I take the Jeep. It’s got a few small rips in the soft top that make it loud as fuck to drive, and scratches all over the body. The wheels are still muddied up from the last off-road weekend JD and I had up in the mountains, and she’s old. Nineteen ninety-eight.
There is nothing about this Jeep on the outside that makes the dealers and pimps want to steal it. And that’s just the way I like it. She’s got a nice lift kit on her, I have to have that. But that’s about it. So this is what I drive around town.
JD has a bike and a similarly under-equipped Ford F-150 for his daily travels.
We might live flashy upstairs, but down here on the streets we are scum.
I get in and start her up. She might not be much to look at, but she purrs nicely in the engine department. And then I head out and take a left on California so I can go hear what Ray has to say. I already know he’s gonna try to cut a deal. That’s just his style. I mean, look. Reality is, I could pull two videos out of my ass. I have enough saved up for Public Fuck. But I’m not going to. And the only other way to get these videos in on time is to pay a visit to my old contact.
And I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. I like this life I’ve built for myself, and I don’t want to have to justify it to anyone. Least of all her.
We’re behind. End of story. And since money means nothing to him—or us, really. I could give a shit about losing out on this week’s money—there’s gotta be something else in mind for this summons.
He always does this when we fall behind. And he never deals with us together. It’s always, Come see me, Ark. And then we make a deal and on my way out, he says, Send JD over tomorrow.
JD never tells me what he does for Ray and I never tell him what I do, either. But I know. I mean, it’s simple deduction. I run the cameras, so that’s what Ray usually wants from me. And JD gets his dick sucked by wannabe porn stars. And that’s usually what Ray wants from JD. Acting.
I make him a movie. JD acts in one.
That’s how we break even with Ray.
So I’m expecting that today when I pull into the private security garage of Ray’s lifestyle club. Don’t let the fancy name fool you. While I’m sure there are plenty of sex clubs doing legal business, Ray’s is not one of them. In fact, this club in LoDo is not even open for membership. It’s an ancillary business to the ranch, which is located up in the mountains. This club here is just a place for friends of the ranch to have sex during the workweek. We keep the online stuff on the up and up because the Feds are all over that shit. But this little local stuff is all about greasing the right palms. You can take a lot more risks.
Oh, and he makes porn in the building next door. He’s got production going five days a week.
Sex. It sells like a motherfucker.
The security waves me through as the gates open and I drive around the twisty entrance ramp until I get to the top level of the garage. I park in a spot that says PFA—Public Fuck America—and don’t bother locking the door.
The rain is still coming down, but this top level is like a carport and has a roof, so I take my time walking to the elevators. I punch in my code when I get there, and the doors open for me.
I punch in my access code to Ray’s office, one floor below, and the doors close.
A few seconds later they open again into what looks like an elegant living room. But Ray doesn’t live here. I actually do not know where he lives, but it’s not here.
“Hey, Ark,” Silvie says from behind the bar. “Wanna drink before I tell him you’re here?”
“Ah, no, thanks, Silvie. I’m good.” I smile at her. She’s been Ray’s better half for as long as I’ve known him. I’m not sure what their relationship really consists of, seeing as how she looks to be my age—twenty-seven or so—and Ray is easily in his forties. But whatever floats her boat. She’s always friendly, always smiling, and never had a bad day in front of me for as long as I can remember.
“OK, then go right in. He’s expecting you.”
I give her a little salute and head to the back of the room where two ten-foot-tall double doors made of hardwood stand guard between me and the boss.
I knock first, just to let him know I’m coming in. I don’t have to, but you never know when the guy’s gonna have a girl on her knees and I’d rather not surprise him.
He’s at his desk, his eyeglasses that he only uses to read financial statements perched on the bridge of his nose.