Bust by Jason Starr, Ken Bruen Read Free Book Online Page B

tell his wife he was out of town on business for the night and Max would book a room for him at one of the big New York hotels. Jack liked Russian women and Max knew two Russian call girls — sisters with monster-size breasts — who charged two thousand bucks for a menage a trois . It was above the going rate, but the money waswell worth it to keep Jack as a client. He had a two-hundred-and-fifty-user network with four file servers and Max had placed three consultants there on a fulltime basis. Including hardware and software sales, Jack was a million-dollar-a-year client. Besides, you had to love a guy who knew how to relax. What was the point of working your ass off and having no fun?
    As soon as Jack got into the cab, Max turned on his “business personality.” Usually, he hated small talk and phony conversation, but when there was money involved, man, Max could turn on the bullshit as well as anyone. During the ride across town to Legz Diamond’s, Max managed to hold a conversation on golf, wine, real estate and the upcoming mayoral election, and half the time he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. But, shit, he knew that he was selling it well.
    Legz Diamond’s was on Forty-seventh Street near Eleventh Avenue. It was an upscale strip club — dark and glitzy, like a cheesy, suburban wedding hall. Although it was still early, the place was at least half filled with businessmen trying to keep their male clients happy. That’s how the big city worked. You had a problem with it, get the fuck back to Boise, pal.
    The host, a Mafia-looking guy with slicked-back hair, was on stage introducing the girls one by one, holding their hands and kissing them on the lips or cheek after he said their names. Max sometimes wondered whether all the girls screwed around with the host, but he was positive that the ones who kissed him on the lips had. Max was a known regular at the club so he and Jack got the VIP seats, right in front of the stage. Immediately, Max bought Jack a rum and Coke and a table dance with the girl of his choice. Jack picked a Puerto Rican with a big smile and a nice set of 38 or 40 triple-Ds. Perfectomundo. That was the way to get ’em in the mood.
    Max was watching Jack enjoy himself when he heard someone call out his name. It was Felicia, a black stripper with 46 triple-Ds whom Max had bought dances from many times before. She was on the stage, leaning forward so that her implants hung down off her bone-thin dancer’s body.
    “How are you?” Max said.
    “Wait up, baby,” Felicia said. “Let me come down there and talk to you personally.”
    She climbed down off the stage and sat on Max’s lap. Max knew that she was just being nice to him because he had tipped her a lot of money in the past, but he couldn’t help but let the special treatment go to his head. He felt like Hugh Hefner, sitting there with a gorgeous girl on his lap. He wondered if Hef listened to Mozart. Guy spent his life in silk pajamas, smoked a pipe, he must listen to real music.
    “That’s better,” Felicia said, wiggling her ass as she settled in on his lap. “So how you been?”
    “All right,” Max said.
    “Yeah? I ain’t seen you around here too much lately.”
    “I’ve been busy. You know how it is.”
    Max remembered once telling Felicia about his business and how this had impressed her.
    “That’s right,” Felicia said, “you got some kind of company — computers or something, right?”
    “That’s right,” Max said.
    “That’s cool, baby. Hey, anybody ever tell you how cute you are?” That lifted him in every sense. Who needed Viagra?
    “Nobody who looked like you,” Max said.
    Felicia kissed him on the forehead and Max felt her hard implants pressing against his chest.
    “I got an idea,” Felicia said. “Take down my number. You can give me a call some time when I’m not working.We’ll go out and have a good time. Or I can just come over to your place and we’ll party there.”
    Max