Filthy Beast(129)

It’s from a blocked number. Which is unusual, because I have my phone set up to block all incoming messages from blocked numbers.

But that’s not the weirdest part. As I read the message, I can’t help but think I’ve been transported to some new universe.

Dear Mr. Locks, You are cordially invited to bid on the most beautiful women on the market. This auction is only for men of means and power. It is a private event. If interested, simply respond to this message. You were invited by one Mr. Range. See him for any questions. Respond in twenty-four hours. Cordially, The Syndicate.

I read the message over twice before I start to understand what it’s saying.

It’s an invitation to a human auction. I’ve heard about these things, but only as whispers. It’s said that there are places where only the most attractive women are sold for high prices and long periods of time. It’s a way to buy a wife or a mistress even, or maybe just a girlfriend for a week.

I never went looking for these auctions because I never needed to. I know that some of my peers engage in them, because it’s easier to buy a woman for a week than it is to pick one up, but I usually like the chase. It’s fun to seduce and be seduced. These escorts, they’re just a way to fuck and be done with it.

I have no clue why Mack invited me to this auction. Mack Range is one of my closest friends and the owner of a company we often do business with. We’ve been to several parties together and he knows I have no trouble getting women when I want them.

Annoyed, I quickly call Mack up. He answers on the third ring.

“Locks!” he says. “What do you want? I thought you were too busy to talk right now.”

“I just got a really strange message, Mack. From The Syndicate. Know about it?”

There’s a pause, and for a second I think we got disconnected. When Mack finally speaks, he sounds hurried and distracted.

“Let’s meet for lunch,” he says. “I’m buying. We’ll talk about it then.”

“Mack,” I grumble. “You know I can’t. Just tell me what the deal is with this.”

“We can’t talk about it over the phone,” he says softly. “Luciano’s at two. Okay?”

I pause, head cocked. What’s so damn important that we can’t talk about it over the phone?

But then again, the message did say that it was very private. It wasn’t threatening, not exactly, but there’s always a veiled threat when secrecy is involved. It’s always keep this secret, or else.

I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Mack has good taste and has never steered me wrong before. Plus, this secrecy thing has me interested. I want to know more about it now just because I’m not supposed to talk about it.

“Fine,” I say. “You’re definitely buying.”

“See you then.” He hangs up quickly.

I put my phone down and shake my head, not sure what to make of this.

It’s out of nowhere. I was at a party with Mack maybe two months ago, before this merger got too insane. We were talking about women and relationships, and he did say something a little strange. He mentioned paying top dollar for a girlfriend at the time, which I assumed meant that he just pays for lunches and hotel rooms. I laughed and said I was always looking for a deal.

Maybe this is what he was talking about. Maybe he meant he literally pays top dollar.

I’ve never bought pussy before. I never had to. But then again, Mack never has either, or at least I didn’t think he needed to. He’s around my age, a little less rich, but still pretty handsome. I’ve never seen him struggle bringing a woman home before.

If he’s paying for it from these people, it must be serious. Still, the idea of paying for it just seems so strange and foreign to me.

The day passes quickly as I dive back into work. It’s one forty-five by the time I look up again and have to practically run downstairs to get into the company car that takes me over to Luciano’s, a little Italian place on the edge of town.

I’m uncertain as I climb out of the car and instruct the driver to wait for me. I don’t think I’ll stay the whole lunch, considering the mountain of paperwork I have back at the office waiting for me. Besides, this whole thing is about prostitutes, and I’m just... not that interested.

I feel strangely nervous as I step into Luciano’s. I’m not sure why, since Mack is one of my closest friends, but there’s something about this whole thing that has me on edge. The hostess points me to a private booth in the back corner, away from the normal lunch crowd.

I slide into the booth across from Mack. “Didn’t think you’d show,” he says.

“I keep my appointments.” He grins and we shake hands.