Part 5 – Loved by the Billionaire
Chapter 1 – Julian
I never held any delusions that I would enjoy my brother’s bachelor party. It’s in a city I don’t particularly care for and is, for a lack of a better term, an utter sausage fest because that’s what happens when a bunch of red-blooded gay men with a shitton of money get together.
But the fact that I was dumped by the woman who could’ve possibly been the love of my life… that only adds to my misery.
I came to this party because, with any luck, it will be the only one my brother hosts for the rest of his life, and to be fair, I would expect him at my own. Honestly, the fact that he personally came to my penthouse and dragged me onto the family plane played no part.
Who the hell told him that Alyssa dumped me? Was it Preston? I bet it was fucking Preston. Or maybe Vern. Someone in my office leaked that precious info to my brother.
Come to think of it, I bet it was Preston, because he’s always so concerned that I’m not having enough fun. Joke’s on him. That obnoxious brat Cher Lieberman ended up dumping him too, shortly after Alyssa walked out on me.
It hasn’t been that long. Perhaps two weeks. But it’s been two long, arduous, lonely weeks of me trying to power through work during the day and getting drunk every night. Protip: getting drunk every night is not conducive to doing good work during the day. But fuck it, I don’t care.
So what do you do at a gay bachelor party in Tokyo when you’re on the mend from your woman dumping you?
Get drunk. As fuck.
I don’t know most of the men here, and I’m not interested in networking. It’s a party, anyway. Ted and his best friends are tearing up this small network of clubs in some tiny neighborhood in Shinjuku. There is no shortage of man meat. Let alone men attempting to hit on me because, by God, I am a virile young American who looks like he knows what he’s about.
“Hellloooo gorgeous.” A thin man who reeks of too much spicy cologne puts his hand on my shoulder and sways back and forth. I daresay he’s drunker than me, but he’s the happy kind of drunk. Me? I prefer to be miserable and angry. I’ll put on a smile for the pictures to keep my brother placated on one of his big days, but…. God, I have to go to a wedding soon! Kill me!
“Not interested,” I mutter. Were I in a better mood, I’d at least be nice about it. After all, knowing that my beautiful Alyssa was waiting for me back in Portland would give me a nice bout of confidence to gently turn down a drunken man. Hell, I’d take his interest as a compliment. I’m comfortable enough in my sexuality to take not take a gay man’s attraction as a threat.
Not tonight.
“Come on, sugar, just one dance.”
His breath is coated in gin and sake, the national alcoholic drink of Japan.
“I said that I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”
Before the man can turn away in a huff, another figure appears between us, his sober gait a breath of fresh air in this cramped lounge. “Peter, Peter,” my brother’s fiancé says to the drunken guest, “leave poor Julian alone. He’s on the mend from a bad breakup. And he’s not like you, Mr. Promiscuous.”
“Bah.” Peter the drunk stumbles away. Jordan, my knight in shining Armani, leans across the bar and tells the bartender in flawless Japanese to cut Peter off. Or to at least severely water down his next shot of sake. “Y’all no fun!”
Jordan takes up residence on the stool next to mine. He props his elbow up on the bar and continues to order himself a cosmopolitan and tells the bartender to top off my beer. As the bartender walks away to fill the order, Jordan says to me, “Before you ask, Ted wanted to know where you were before he took his part of the party elsewhere. Told me he didn’t think you’d be interested, even though there’s going to be girls there.”
To this day, I’m not sure if my brother personally IDs as bisexual or gay, and honestly I don’t care. But I should’ve guessed that at least one part of this bachelor party would include a copious amount of pussy. Jordan, as far as I know, is not interested in women like that. Something I will never, ever be able to understand. “That doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugs, a consummate gentleman even at his own bachelor party. No wonder Ted loves him. He probably sees in him what I see… saw… in Alyssa. That eternal innocence in one aspect or another. (Not that I think Jordan is innocent by any stretch of the imagination. But he’s good at giving off an indifferent, sometimes even more aloof-than-a-natural-born Marcus air. Good thing he’s the one changing his last name as of next week, because he’ll fit right in. “He knows the rules. No touching. Slobbering is fine.”
I wish I could have that much faith in my brother. Great. Now I’m thinking about that time, and after what Alyssa put me through, I’d rather not get angry at more than one person. Somebody keep these drinks coming.
“So Ted told you what happened?”
“He sort of had to, after I saw the state that you’re in.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about your business partner having your girlfriend’s panties in his office.”
Thanks, Ted. At least now I know Preston had to have been the one to spill the beans, because Vern would have never in a million years shared the detail about the underwear. “That’s not the whole story, but it’s the gist.”
Jordan chuckles. “Sometimes it’s too much fun watching you Marcus boys flub your relationships. You know, when I’m not caught up in it.”
“I’m sure.” Jordan and Ted have split up before. I know exactly who was at fault, too.
My brother can’t help himself, you see. Which is why I find it hilarious that Jordan trusts him to be surrounded by female sex workers for the final part of his bachelor party… because when it comes to Ted and women he’s not supposed to touch…
“Anyway, sorry to hear about you and Alyssa. Real shame. She was the best one I’d seen. Ted begs to differ, though. He says she was second best.”
“Let me guess. Savannah was his favorite.”
Jordan doesn’t say anything. “He’s changed a lot, you know. You can’t really tell in everyday scenarios, but he’s done a lot of maturing since those days.”
My hand clenches my empty glass to the point I should worry I’m about to break it. “He should’ve matured out of stealing his brother’s girlfriends after high school.”
There it is. The nasty truth hanging between us. Because it was never enough that Ted got the bulk of the inheritance while I worked for my own business. It wasn’t enough that he gets the family home when Mother and Father pass. It wasn’t even enough that he was the one born with the chiseled jaw and Devil-may-care attitude that women for some stupid reason fall for every time.
No. He had to take my girlfriend, too.
Savannah wasn’t the love of my life, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Ted set his sights on her and couldn’t help himself. Or so he said. And so Savannah also swore when I caught them in bed together.
So I don’t care how much Jordan says my brother has matured since then. Fact of the matter is, Ted has never apologized, and I’m pretty sure that even if he tried, I’d punch him the fuck out. Enough to get me written out of the rest of the will.
I still remember the way he looked at Alyssa when they met…
Great. Now I’m thinking about Alyssa!
“Care to tell me what really happened between you two?”
At first, I think he’s asking about my brother. Once I realize he means Alyssa, I sigh and say, “Our relationship started with Preston betting me I couldn’t seduce her in two hours.”
“Naturally, you proved him wrong.”
In many ways. “She found out. I had almost forgotten it happened that way. Anyway, she left that day, and I haven’t seen her since.” Believe you me, I have tried multiple times to contact Alyssa. I’ve called her nonstop. Left a shitton of messages. Gone to her apartment only to find it empty. Sent her messages via couriers. I’ve basically begged her to at least let me explain my side of the story.
Instead, you know what she did?
She filed a suit against me and my company. With Cher.
Preston and I are both being sued over inappropriate relationships with our employees.
Kill. Me.
Jordan must sense the dooming air surrounding me, for he quickly changes the subject. “Maybe you should go with Ted and his friends. Mine are treating me to a rousing game of poker. $50,000 buy-in, but it’s going to be a lot of bullshitting between us while men in thongs serve the drinks and act out for our amusement. Ted’s got women.”
“And he’s my brother, so that’s weird.”
Jordan slips off his stool. “You two never partied together?”
“Guess there’s too much of an age difference.” By the time I was old enough to “party,” Ted was deciding what grad school to attend. “I might go back to the hotel.”
“I’ll let him know before he leaves.”
“Thanks. Sorry for being such a downer at your party.”
“Put on a smile for the wedding photos, and we’ll forget all about it, Julian.”
I snort into the back of my hand as I stumble off my stool. Within five minutes, I’m outside hailing a cab and jetting off to my hotel room in downtown Tokyo.
I’m in my room for all of five minutes, contemplating how to get my drunken ass into the shower without hurting myself, when someone buzzes my door.
And by someone, I mean a very attractive, very raring to go beauty wearing hardly any clothes and radiating money and sex.
She has Ted written all over her, and that’s before I take her timing into consideration. How much does she cost, I wonder? Five grand a night? Ten grand? I’m sure Ted paid her the full rate for her services so I can have whatever I want and as much as I want for the next twenty-four hours.
I never catch her name. The alcohol has inebriated me enough that my reflexes inhibit me from shutting the door in her face. She’s inside my suite, unzipping her dress and asking me in perfect English what my poison is.
My poison?
My poison is Alyssa. The beautiful, sweet, smart-as-a-whip woman I want to make love to right now. I don’t even know where she is. Is she in Portland? Is she okay? Has she already moved on with someone else?
“Sir?” The escort bats her fake eyelashes at me. “Where do you want me?”
I reach into my wallet and pull out all of the Japanese bills I possess. I have no idea how much it is. I only hope that handing it to her doesn’t insult her.
She looks between me and my outstretched hand, confused. She probably thinks I want her to stick the money in her orifices.
“This is for you coming all the way out here. I’m not interested in your services tonight. But feel free to charge the full amount.”
She cocks her head, the look in her eyes accepting my challenge. “I’m very excellent, sir.” She erotically puffs out her cheeks. I don’t have to ask what she means with that gesture.
“I’m sure you’re one of the best in the city.”
“Oh, I am.”
But she still isn’t better than Alyssa.
“Please. Take it. Consider it my patronage for the night.”
Eventually, the young escort accepts my wad of bills and shows herself out of my suite.
I sit down on the edge of my bed, head in my hands. I don’t care how beautiful, how talented, how good at faking it that woman was. I’m sure she would’ve been the best sex worker I’ve ever slept with. But what’s the point if I’m only doing it to forget Alyssa?
How could I forget her?
Perhaps it’s my drunken brain. Perhaps it’s nothing more than my heart refusing to break and crack. Because if it does, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover from it.
That’s it. The moment I get back to Portland, I’m proving to Alyssa that she’s the only one for me.
As soon as I sleep this drunken mess out of my system. I’ll formulate a plan on the plane ride home.
