The Bad Boy I Wanted

CHAPTER 1

Riley

The light wasn't on in the house, as I pulled into the driveway. Ashley's funky car wasn't there either, so I snatched the nicer spot under a tree, which would provide a cool shade for the car the next morning. I killed the engine and stepped out.

It was half past eight, and after the long day at the supermarket, all I wanted was something to eat and a glass of Lambrusco. I was working at a supermarket, even though it wasn't exactly my passion. I was a teacher during the school year, but now that it was summer I had to supplement my income. It was the thing about me – I was practical. Always doing what was right, even if it wasn't easy.

My roommate, Ashley, wasn't as traditional. After we'd finished college, she tried several desk jobs, but couldn't just sit in one place. So, she waited tables for a while, then worked the bar, and after a few more promotions she became a PR manager for a company that owned clubs and restaurants all over Chicago. It might have been a more exciting job, but she didn't like the hours.That night, as was often the case, Ashley was out in the city, promoting one event or another.

I climbed the two flights of stairs that led to my apartment, and was finally home. I got out of my work clothes and changed into PJs, washing my face in the small bathroom next to my room. It wasn't a huge apartment, but both Ashley and I had our own bathrooms, and I loved mine. It made me feel at home.

As I was making my way to the fridge, my cell phone began ringing. I had to turn around and go back into the bedroom to answer it. I was still really hungry.

"Hey, Riley," the voice on the other end said. "Is this a good time?"

"Hey Dylan! Yeah, I just got home. How are you?"

There was a short pause, as if he was hesitant. Classic Dylan. "I was just in the area, and I got some pepperoni, so..."

"Oh, yes, please!" I said, looking inside the fridge and seeing a lot of ingredients, but no food. "And hurry up!"

Dylan hung up, and I got out a cold bottle of wine and some snacks to go with it.

Once I settled comfortably on the couch, I poured the wine and waited for Dylan, flicking through the Television Shows category on my TV. After a few minutes, I settled on watching the highlights of my favorite club's match, which was my go-to remedy.

The door was unlocked, and halfway into the match (and a glass of wine), I heard Dylan let himself in.

With the glass still in hand, I went to greet him, landing a big hug and grabbing the plastic bags of food he brought.

"You couldn't wait five minutes, Riley?" he asked, looking at me with a smile.

"First of all, it was more like twenty. Second of all, you look good, Dylan. Put on some weight?"

"Oh, fuck off," he said with a thin smile.

"I'm glad to see you."

The truth was, Dylan didn't look good. In fact, he looked worse. He was even paler, if that was even possible, and leaner, his clothes now seemingly oversized and baggy. He looked older.

Dylan stepped out of his shoes and crashed on the couch. There was something odd about him, a look or embarrassment I knew all too well. I didn't say anything at first, simply got the food out of the plastic bags and joined him in front of the TV, salivating.

"Is this for me?" he asked, meaning the wine.

I nodded. "Only half a glass, okay?"

Dylan didn't have to ask my permission, but he was being nice. Back before the treatments began, he would have had no problem downing the whole bottle on his own, but now we had to be cautious. He dropped a white envelope on the table.

I said, "Another bill?"

"Yup. Due next month."

"Right."

There was an awkward pause. I hated the awkwardness. I hated that my brother was sick, and how miserable it made him feel. Made both of us feel. And then there was yet another bill to pay. I could only guess how much longer we could keep it up. It was one of those times I really wished our mother was here to give some advice – she had always been the practical one. Our dad had been more into religion, but prayers weren't working anymore.

I, on the other hand, was doing my best. Dylan had burned through his college savings over the past year, and I had been working overtime for the past few months. It was consuming our lives.

I sipped the wine. It was cold and bittersweet on my lips. Emily and Ethan in the background pulled me out of my thoughts.

"I got it, Dylan, don't worry," I said.

"I'm sorry Riley," he replied, looking at the TV screen.

"Hey, don't turn it into a pity party. You don't have anything to be sorry about." I paused but he didn't respond.

"Let's eat dinner."

We watched the match and talked about nothing in particular, just having a family night, like in the good old days.

Dylan barely touched his food, but emptied my glass rather quickly and relaxed on the couch. He had become withdrawn lately, and I couldn't blame him. The elephant was in the room, and sometimes it was hard to ignore.

"Hey, cheer up, okay?" I said, mostly to myself.

"We'll figure it out, and you'll get better."

He looked at me, as if saying Do you really believe that?

I was used to this look, so I nodded, thinking that perhaps it was the wine giving me optimism.

Either way, I'd take it.

We watched another episode of our favorite show which was on after the football match, as I finished my noodles.

When it ended, I said, "Do you want to stay here tonight? Ashley will be back late, so..."

"Nah. I'll head home, read a book. I don't sleep much, anyway. Thanks for letting me invite myself." He began to get up, slowly, minding his balance.

"I'm here for you, Dylan. You just let me know if you need anything. Keep your phone nearby."

"Always do, don't I?" his phone was in his hand, and I saw the Uber app was open on it.

"Good. I'll try to visit you over the weekend, okay? And I'll take care of that bill, so don't stress about it."

He nodded wistfully, looking aside. "Thank you."

"Don't even mention it." I kissed his cheek and watched him leave.

I wasn't honest with him. I was short on money, and would have to borrow some from Ashley and some other friends, if I wanted to pay that bill

before the end of the month.

Quietly desperate, I sat back down in front of the TV, poured myself another glass and finished Dylan's food. Just like the good old days.

Just moments later, the front door swung open, and Ashley stepped in. She walked straight to the table and landed in the armchair.

"I'm exhausted!" She proclaimed.

"Oh, and I met Dylan downstairs! Asked him if he put on weight."

"Did he tell you to fuck off?"

"He did!"

That put a smile on my lips. Ashley checked out the bottle, and took a sip from my glass.

"Yum!"

"Get another bottle," I suggested, finishing the wine.

At first, Ashley was about to get up, but then I sensed something was amiss. She grabbed the bill from the table.

"Shit! They're still chasing you for treatment payment. What the fuck is insurance for these days? How is he feeling anyway?"

"He's making it."

Now I was feeling the same way my brother had felt. I said, "But the money is bad, Ashley. I don't mean to beg or anything, just letting you know."

"How much?" my friend asked, reaching into her handbag.

I grinned, "In the long run, more than you could possibly have in your wallet, so, please, don't."

Not yet anyway, I wanted to look at my own bank account first, see how dire this all really was.

"Wasn't going to." Instead of a wallet, Ashley produced a bunch of colorful fliers and began sifting through them. "It must be somewhere in here... Got it!"

She handed me a rough piece of paper. There was a carnival mask at the top, with Chicago Buyer's Club written below it. There was a date and a phone number, but little else.

"I got it from a friend. There's this fancy place, where billionaires look for girls to go on dates with, sort of like The Bachelor."

"You're suggesting I prostitute myself?"

"Not at all! It's a legit thing. You go there to hang out, find a guy, have a few drinks. It's a paid gig, I'm told, too, so I thought you could use that..."

"Right. Well, I don't think I could."

Ashley sighed, then shrugged. "Look, you don't have to, but think about it. Give them a call."

"Yeah maybe, I gotta go to the bathroom." I needed a minute. To process. To escape. With that, I left, leaving her alone with my phone, wine, and the flier that could change my life.

*THE BAD BOY I WANTED*

*CHAPTER 2*

Hunter's POV

I was getting pissed. I'd spent the last hour on the phone, dealing with the worst customer support I had ever encountered. In a way, I was grateful for the pause and the rare moments I could take to contemplate my business, my life, and everything.

And there was a lot to think about. My roots were in Texas, as was my business, but lately I felt like I needed a change...

"Mr. Sean?" a woman on the other end said, bringing me back to reality. It was a new voice – I guessed I was now speaking to the head manager, or whoever was in charge of that shitty showroom.

"My name is..."

I cleared my throat, loudly interrupting the woman. I had calmed down some, and was able to speak, respectfully, yet firmly.

I said, "Let me tell you something. I trust you're well aware of who I am, and by now I hope to God you understand what I'm asking of you. Please, don't waste any more of my very valuable time today. I need this done as we agreed, by Monday. I don't care what's stopping you. Contact my assistant if you need any help."

I ended the call, tossing the phone on the couch in the middle of the office. Normally, I wouldn't have cared to speak to some low-tier manager, but the last couple of days made me want to find any excuse not to speak to the law firm. Business had been great, but every once in a while, certain government agencies would set out on a witch-hunt, and I would have to find and navigate certain backroads.

The speaker phone on my desk came to life:

"Mr. Sean?"

"Here, Ariel," I called, still standing inches from the window.

"Michael Phillips is on line three. Says you have to talk to him. Says it's important."

"Have I ever had unimportant calls?" I smirked.

"Tell him I'll be with him in ten"

"Got it."

There wasn't anything for me to do in these five minutes, but I had to make my lawyer, Phillips, wait. After four minutes had passed, I made my way to the desk in three strides and pressed a button.

"Sean."

"Where have you been all day?"

"I'm away on business, Phillips, you know that." A lie, but a decent one.

"Good answer. Look, I've sent over some papers for you to look at, possible answers to this problems of ours. And I know I've told you this already, but you need to meet with the District Attorney."

"Michael, let me cut you off here. We've talked about it, yes, and my answer remains the same. Tell him I'll be in Chicago until September, and after that he can catch me in Idaho."

"You're always somewhere..." Phillips said. "Look, okay, I'll get it done."

"You better."

I ended the call and walked back to the windows.

God damn that District Attorney, always looking into my business when I didn't fucking need it.

I thought about calling him, getting it over with.

But no, not yet. I had to take some time off and regroup. I knew it was a crappy strategy – innocent businessmen don't find excuses not to prove their innocence. Or, rather, not to negotiate it, at least. There was a temptation to really leave the country. Lie low somewhere in Denmark.

"Mr. Sean?" Ariel called.

She was standing at my door. Ariel was five years older than me, but looked five years younger. She was a looker, and crazy smart, but she might have been the only woman in the world who wasn't interested in me. She'd been married for the better part of her life, since college, and perfectly happy.

Unlike all the other women I'd ever known, she had no interest in my money. Ironically, I had no interest in her.

"Mr. Sean? Where are you?"

"Just... thinking."

"Oh, now you're thinking!"

"Hey, watch it. What did you want?"

Ariel widened her eyes and pursed her lips, gesturing at my phone. There was only one man she would bother to announce in person. I cocked my head, feeling annoyed already.

"What does he want?"

She made a face. "No idea honestly, but you better take it."

"Thank you Ariel."

I stared up at the ceiling. Mother fucker. What a day. Lazily, I walked over to the couch and grabbed the phone. There was a missed call.

Fucking Davies. He was my friend, but a shitty one at that. I viewed Davies as my mentor, in a sense, always learning from his mistakes that he so often found himself in. How he got away with half the shit he did I would never fully understand. He had somehow successfully managed to find millions of dollars' worth of loopholes in his company's taxes. When the government came to question him, he was a cocky idiot which only made them investigate into his business more. I tried to tell him to quit acting like a kid but he never listened to me. He always said that he knew people that could get him out of things, and he would use that to his advantage. I never fully believed him until I watched his problem with the government slowly disappear.

If there was one other thing I had learned over the years through Davies, it was diplomacy. You never knew when you might need someone's help, and staying on good terms with everyone was only smart.

I picked up the phone and redialed, mentally preparing myself for whatever trouble he had found himself in again.

Davies picked up after the first ring. "Hunter, my friend! Happy you returned the call! I wasn't expecting it, frankly! How have you been?"

"You read the news. Sean Inc. is stronger than ever," I lied.

"Congratulations, buddy! I knew you would pull through!"

"Of course we did." I clutched the elbow rest.

"True. But word on the street is the District Attorney is gunning for you, know anything about it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ugh he just wanted to run the rumor mill. I didn't give a shit about what he wanted to know, I had to actually handle my business."Well I hear he frequents an investment of mine."

"An investment? Which one?" Davies owned properties all over town, easy to hide his money that way.

"Do you remember that place we used to frequent in the old days? The Texas Buyer's Club?"

I did. Back in the day, when we had just graduated college and started making our first money, the club was where we spent our weekends. Those were some legendary parties that saw cash flying in the air amidst girls' underwear. I stopped visiting it right after things with work started to pick up.

"What about it?" I asked.

"Well, it's somewhere the higher end people in this city like to be."

"Why are you telling me this Davies?"

"Hey I figured we used to help each other, and I screwed up, stopping that relationship. This is my olive branch. Meet with the District Attorney, or even better snap and few pics and be on your way. It can only help your case."

He had a point. The me of five years ago would've been out the door already, but the me of today sat still.

"I don't know about that, Davies. As tempting as that sounds," – it didn't – "I think I'll pass." I wasn't very interested in getting back involved with Davies.

"Come on, man, don't be like that. Look, I'll be paying for everything, whatever you want. Women, booze, whatever, you just get that pic."

He wanted this blackmail for his own purposes, I was sure of it. But it was still worth a shot.

"Oh, and did I mention?" Davies said, bringing me out of my thoughts on the commissioner.

"There will be an auction! A dozen of hottest chicks we could find! The best of the best!"

The idea didn't sound appealing at all, but speaking with the District Attorney there might play to my advantage. I doubted the District Attorney would like it to be common knowledge that he frequented auction houses of women. It was even worse than a potential sex club.

"Okay, Davies, I'll bite."

"I knew you would want to come! I will see you there Sunday at nine, okay? I'll tell the boys to reserve a space for you at the staff parking."

"You're overdoing it."

Davies laughed. "I know, I'm just happy my old pal Hunter is back!"

"I never left," I said. That part was true, he left me. I was still here.

As soon as I hung up, I saw Ariel stepping into the office. "I cannot believe you agreed to meet with that asshole!"

"Easy. I'm not meeting with him. I'm checking out the club, and speaking to the other attendees.

Maybe I'll get a date or something." I smirked at her, we both knew I didn't need to buy some girl.

I could have whatever I wanted.

Whoever I wanted.

Whenever I wanted.

Ariel considered it. Then said, "Wear the navy suit. It makes your eyes shine."

I smirked, feeling better for the first time that day. I was already going to wear a blue one.

On my way out, she turned to me and said, "You know he wants something from you, right?"

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

*THE BAD BOY I WANTED*

*CHAPTER 3*

Riley's POV

I got the call back from the Texas Buyer's Club on Saturday evening. By that time I had given up on the idea, and even Ashley stopped urging me to call them again. But then again, Ashley had spent most of the weekend out in the city, bar-trotting, as I called it.

Back on Thursday, after Ashley had gone to sleep, I finished that bottle of wine and, of course, picked up that flier. Twice I dialed the number and hung up before it could connect, laughing at myself and ridiculing the idea. Yet, every time I remembered why I would even consider doing it, I thought it was a good plan. After all, getting a few hundred for a couple of drinks with some spoiled jerk wasn't too bad. And judging by the level of secrecy, no one would ever know!

So, I finally called and forced myself to sit through half a dozen rings, expecting to hear a voice of some sleazy old man, but to my surprise, it wasn't.

"Evening. Texas Buyer's Club." There was a slight European accent to the woman's voice, but just distinguishable enough to be sexy.

"Um, evening," I replied, realizing I had no idea what to say.

"Are you a young lady willing to take part in our event on Sunday? There is still a spot or two left for only the sexiest women."

Intrigued by her soothing voice, I said, "Yeah. Yes, I think I am interested." I felt like I was in a spy movie, talking in code.

"I do have a lonely heart." Wasn't that the truth? Between taking care of Dylan and working more than full time, I couldn't even remember the last time I had felt a man's touch.

"I believe we can help with that. Please, state your name, parameters, and, if possible, send a link to your social media profile to this number after we're finished."

So, I did, I was proud of my looks. A blue-eyed blonde, an ex-gymnast with curves in all the right places. I was sure they'd at least give me a good look.

"Brilliant," the woman replied. "We shall review your application and contact you with further details. You can call this number any time. Ask for Ava."

"Um, okay. Thanks."

It was a short call, and I didn't think much of it. It felt wrong somehow, but exciting at the same time. So, when my phone went off on that Saturday evening and I recognized the number, my heart started beating ten times faster. I didn't know what to do at first and wished Ashley was there to give me a kick in the butt. I jumped to my feet and paced the room.

Okay, okay, just breathe. Don't get your hopes up, maybe they want to tell you you're out.

When I felt calm enough, I swiped the screen and answered.

"Evening. Riley Marcus ?" it was Ava.

"Yes, it's me."

"I'm calling to let you know that we have evaluated your application and would like to invite you to our event tomorrow evening at eight o'clock."

I was speechless. Was I really doing this? I was thinking of all sorts of insane things. Of what I would tell my brother, and that I had work early on Monday, and that it was probably some clerical error or a practical joke...

"I will be there," I uttered, to my own surprise.

"Brilliant! Please, dress comfortably. You will be on the list. Have a good night now, Riley."

Ava hung up without giving me a chance to reply, so I was left staring at the phone, wondering if this conversation had really taken place. The call log proved it had.

Wow.

I quickly texted Ashley, reciting the dialogue, word for word, and started pacing the room again. I was really doing this! What should I wear? Ava said to dress comfortably, but surely if there would be millionaires at this "Single Hearts" event, then I would need to be dressed to impress. Did I even have clothes suitable for that? I would have to borrow something from my roommate...

*******************

That night, when Ashley came home, and all day on Sunday, we tried on dresses, before finally settling on a nice black dress and a small handbag of a recognizable brand, which I had bought a few years before, when I had money. I figured I couldn't go wrong with such a classic look.

"Are you sure about it?" I asked.

"The dress? Totally!"

"No, this whole... thing," I said with a sigh.

"Look at it this way. Do you need money? If the answer is yes, then go for it and never look back."

"But that's true for any number of things," I countered.

"Name three more things you would rather do to make some cash overnight. Realistically."

"Point taken."

It was a good and only point, really. What was the worst that could happen? It's not like I had any plans for the weekend, anyway. We had a light late lunch, and then Ashley gave me a ride to the club, giving me a last-minute prep talk.

"I know some guys from the club, and they're cool, but if something doesn't feel right, you just text me and I'll pick you up. I'll be in the neighborhood until three."

"Thanks, Mom!"

"Riley, I'm serious."

"It was your idea, Ashley. I'll be fine." I checked my nails and my dress once again, checked my handbag – cell, keys, money. All set.

Texas Buyer's Club was located in central Texas. It was nice, but nothing about the street screamed this is where billionaires hang out! But I couldn't know for sure. I assumed most of those guys were crazy secretive anyway. The front of the club looked more like a bar, stylized to look like a pub that had seen better days. I heard hiphop music coming from inside. Suddenly, I didn't want to go in. I stopped in my tracks. What the hell was I doing?

But only one thing came to mind. Dylan. So I put one foot in front of the other and pushed forward. I had to do this, for him.

There was a guy at the entrance. He was too small to be a bouncer, but he looked like he was standing there with a purpose.

"Is this, um," I lowered my voice: "the Texas Buyer's Club?"

The guy smiled. "Charming. It is. Are you here for the tonight's event?"

"Yes. I'm Riley Marcus, they said I'd be on a list?"

He got out his phone and scrolled for a moment, then said, "Checks out. Follow me."

He led me through the half-empty bar area towards a door that said Staff Only, and let me step through first. It was a peculiar feeling, and I thought this must be what Ashley had felt the first time she began waiting tables. Being on the other side, seeing the ins and outs of a business.

"Just walk to the end and turn right. You'll see some of the other girls there."

"Right."

I kept moving, smelling the kitchen and beer, but then at some moment those smells dissipated, and the air changed. It was smoother somehow, and the smells were sweet and delicate. It wasn't perfume, but rather the smell of new furniture and fabrics. In the same way, the bar's music subsided, and gave way to something more rhythmic.

A moment later the hallway took a turn, and I found my way into a spacious room that looked more like a musical set. There was a wide stage at the far wall, where a DJ was doing his thing behind a laptop. To the right of him was the bar, and it was nothing like the one I had just left.

There was neon and a lot of glass, colorful bottles and glasses of every shape and form. The room was getting crowded, with a few couples dancing on the dance floor in the middle. And it was obviously a rich crowd, too. There were mostly guys around, dressed in shiny suits, wearing shinier watches, and what women were there, looked like models, wearing expensive jewelry and loud dresses.

I was a fish out of water. They would probably laugh me out of the damn place. At my shoes, at my simple – comfortable – dress. I glanced around, looking for a place to sit down or stand away from everyone else. The bar was too crowded, but to my left there was a nice sitting area, blocked off from the rest of the room by a heavy curtain, and there I saw a group of other girls. Those must have been my people.

At the head of the group was a tall woman in a red pantsuit and with a tablet in her hand. Ava.

I hurried to join them.

"...will find the papers in your inbox, so check your email when you get home tonight, yes? You will be receiving twenty percent of the final bid, free of tax." I interrupted her: "I'm sorry, what's the final bid?"

Everyone looked at her. Ava said, "Welcome, Miss Marcus. The final bid is the amount of money your dates pay at the auction for the chance to spend the evening with you."

"The auction?" He heart began racing. What the hell was this place?

"Why, of course. Don't worry, dear, this is perfectly legal. Just a fun little game rich boys like to play."

"Right..." I had a strong urge to leave right then.

To just storm out of the club and get a breath of fresh air and forget about all this.

Think of Dylan. Think of Dylan.

I didn't move, and listened to Ava's instructions. There was still forty minutes until the auction.

When Ava left, the rest of the girls spread around the club in twos and threes, and I was left alone at a table, along with another girl, nervously watching the place.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the girl said, "First time here?"

"Yeah."

It has to be my fifteenth."

"Really? How does this work exactly?" I asked, turning my chair to face the girl.

"One of these guys will bid on you, and whoever pays the most, promises you the world and tries to get into your pants."

I frowned.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I paid off my student loans in three months, and had some money left over for a car! I'm Liz, by the way."

I shook the girl's hand. She was pretty. About the same age as me, but a little leaner and with black hair cut short. I could see why other girls wouldn't want to hang out with her. Most of them were a good ten years younger, fresh out of high school and already looking for adventure – sex and parties. Liz seemed like she was there for work, which wasn't a bad thing. I had respect for a woman who made her way in the world, hell that's why I was here.

Doing this for me. For Dylan.

"Do you want to go to the bar?" she asked me. "I need to get a drink before this whole thing goes down. Helps with the nerves, you know?"

"Sounds good." A little liquid courage was just what I needed.