The Meeting
“Next up we have Bella, give it up for bella.”
Long finger nails slid up the pole, and then down. Hot neon pink encased olive flesh as Bella wrapped he legs around the cylinder. She climbed to the top, clapping her translucent arched heels together and slid down with a flesh smacking thud.
One man clapped, another tore into his fried chicken, I sat waiting for the reporter. My hot pink mustache drooped on my upper lip. My sunglasses made the dimly light club seem even more dim, my hat was low to my brow and I slouched in the chair as I picked at the items I’d gotten at the $5 lunch buffet; grapes, melons, and some salad with balsamic vingarette.
I didn’t want my CEO to now where I was, so I’d slinked out in the hustle and bustle of lunch time for my mid day rendezvous. I figured the CEO wouldn’t be caught dead in San Francisco’s busiest day time lunch spot… no artisianal food, and the service was too attentive. Not that it mattered the CEO hadn’t come into work anyways. He was busy downloading Bavarian porn or pissing away investor money on trips to Europe.
The reporter came in. He sat down across from me. He was young, and slim, and ambitious, and well dressed, the opposite of me. My pink mustache fell off. Disguises are shitty anyways.
We exchanged pleasantries. He got up and came back with a plate of fried chicken.
“So I’m thinking of doing an article on your company,” he said.
“Uh huh?” I leaned back in my chair. What and how were informants supposed to act? Cool? Nervous? Casual? I decided I would pretend I was like the non stop hit maker Drake and just chill in my seat.
“Obviously there are some pieces already. I mean your company got over $40 million in investment capital with a type of agreement that says he isn’t held responsible for any of that money…”
“Yeah…”
“Well do you think he’s doing anything wrong? Do you think that there’s a story there?”
I took a moment to think.
“I mean he’s already blown through half his funding and you guys only now have a product now, after 3 years. I mean what’s he’s spending his money on?”
I gave a shrug and thought of all the Bavarian porn industry that the CEO had single-handly revived.
“What’s the point,” I asked.
“Well hopefully by exposing him this sort of thing won’t happen again.”
“I’m not sure it works that way. If he loses all his money today he’ll just been seen as a successful failure and will get a job as a consultant for other start ups. Or his parents will give him money- they already gave him several million to help start the company. Or investors like the investors for my company will see another bushy tailed blue eyed douche and throw their money that way.”
“So you don’t think there’s a story?”
“I’m just saying that speaking Truth to power doesn’t work.”
A young woman came up behind the reporter. She touched his shoulder. Her augmentations brushed his brow. If he wiggled his eyebrows he’d be caressing her nipples.
“What do you think of the fried chicken,” she whined.
“I haven’t had it yet,” the Reporter said. He poked at the breaded piece of pink meat. “Have you had it before?”
“Oh no! It’s far too greasy.”
The Reporter sighed. The dancer lingered. No one spoke.
“Well if something happens will you tell me,” the Reporter said. He slid his business card over to me then stood up.
“Sure. Why not?”
The dancer walked away uninterested in a fat pasty man in a dungeons and dragons tee shirt.
“Okay hope to hear from you soon.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep daily reports,” I said with a laugh.
Bella was still on stage. Her top had come off. I turned my chair and ogled. I didn’t go back to work until the next day.
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Great article!