Rohan left the apartment in a daze. It was obvious they would be taking things far beyond his typical, comfortable level of dissent. It was a lot to take in. He needed to think, but the drinks and the surging excitement kept him from seeking solitude. Instead he pinged Jason and Eric on their beepers, asking them to meet at Spinola Bay. It was close enough to the nightlife district of Paceville to get there quickly, but far enough not to arouse suspicion. Rohan quickly began to think of an excuse for inviting them when Eric and Jason emerged bleary-eyed from the taxi.
“Rohan, you better have a damn good reason for calling us out here at this hour,” Jason said lacking conviction. “My girlfriend is pissed. I told her it was an important meeting to discuss risk modeling tactics, she obviously knew I was bullshitting.”
“That’s what you get for being such a shitty liar,” Eric replied, unperturbed by the strange invitation.
“Anyway, why don’t you leave her already, she’s freaking boring. And Li obviously digs you.”
Li-Shen held the Asian sales territory. She was one of Rohan’s Angels, as many at the firm referred to his sales team. Rohan had spent $50,000 of Gavin’s hard-earned money on video conferencing units under the pretense of shorter sales cycles. In reality, it was to provide an excuse for him to hire pretty, sophisticated women to put in front of their potential and existing clientele. In addition to Li-Shen, there was a British girl of Qatari descent named Aliyah, who alternated fluidly between the King’s English and Gulf Arabic. She had previously worked at Sotheby’s selling high end impressionist art, so she was a natural fit to manage sales to Europe and the Middle East. Rohan met her at a lounge in Chelsea and offered her an interview on the spot when she told him her background. To manage Latin America, Rohan reached out to his old friend Isabella, who had moved on from University to work in commercial real estate. It was a booming sector in Medellín since the long-awaited cease fire. She was happy to accept Rohan’s offer, having made a pretty penny from the sale of Casa Libertad.
“I didn’t fly my girlfriend out to an island in the Mediterranean just to dump her,” Jason replied, exasperated.
“Suit yourself. Anyway, Rohan, what’s the deal?”
In all that time, Rohan still hadn’t been able to come up with a good reason for inviting them.
“Well, to be honest I was just bored. Figure if we’re going to be financiers, we may as well begin acting the part.”
Eric shared a conspiratorial look with Rohan, “I’m game. I hear Sky Club is cool, let’s get moving.”
Jason knew if he left too quickly, it would be suspicious, so he relented.
Approaching the velvet rope, they slapped the bouncers some cash and had a table cleared next to the DJ. It didn’t take long once the initial rush wore off for the trio to realize the club was predominantly filled with Russian and Italian gangster-looking types. The few girls there appeared clearly off limits.
After his second shot, Eric offered, “Dude, Rohan, why don’t you call up the Angels. They’re the cutest girls on this damn island... and they work for you.”
Jason was staunchly opposed to it. “Don’t fucking call the girls. Not that they’ll actually come, I mean it’s almost one in the morning, but seriously Rohan, that’s a bad idea. It’s a million HR violations waiting to happen.”
“Well, luckily we don’t have an HR department and I am their boss so…” he looked over at Eric in agreement, “Fuck it, why not?”
Isabella, Aliyah and Li-Shen shared a corporate apartment, which proved to be a logistical boon. Rohan dialed Isabella and explained the situation. He promised the next day off if they arrived within the hour.
Ever the good sport, she rallied Aliyah and Li-Shen and they arrived at the club promptly to redeem their reward. The gents, at this point, were properly inebriated.
More shots were poured, taken, and more poured in their stead. At that inopportune moment, an enterprising young Maltese man walked up to the table offering high grade MDMA. None of the merrymakers were in any position to resist. The last thing Rohan remembered was Isabella’s face pressed against his as they danced in the middle of the dance floor, oblivious to the whereabouts of the rest of the group.
The next morning Isabella awoke, feeling a slight panic. She perched on an elbow and looked at Rohan, still caught in the depths of slumber. The contentment on his face gave her comfort and she hoped Aliyah and Li-Shen found their way back to their apartment okay.
A few minutes later, Rohan’s cell phone began vibrating, waking him. Rohan turned over to grab the clattering device.
“Yeah?”
“Rohan, man, I fucked up big time man. I’m at the girls’ apartment. I think… Fuck! I don’t even know man.”
Rohan cleared his throat, ruined from cigarettes smoked the night before.
“Calm down, what’d you say? You’re at the girls?” Rohan turned over to look at Isabella. She was listening in on the conversation and gave him a playful wink. “Well, that’s a good thing, at least you’re not in jail. I don’t remember shit from last night, man.”
“This isn’t fucking funny Rohan! I moved my girlfriend out here two fucking weeks ago and I just cheated on her! Shit—”
Rohan cut him off.
“Jason, seriously, you sound like a goddamn lunatic. It’s not the end of the fucking world, man. Send her ass back to the states. At least she got a nice vacation out of it.”
Jason disconnected without responding. Rohan felt an initial throb of a hangover as he began recollecting what little he could of the night. Traditionally speaking, the three partners hooking up with their employees, to whatever extent that they did, was taboo. He knew that. But compared to what their fund would be engaged in over the next few years, this was child’s play. The devil on his shoulder reassured him, it would all work out just fine.