Author's Note: Thank you so much for your reviews, you guys! THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME. And you guys are so nice, comparing this to pop culture references, I'm so flattered. AND ANON, I think it's amazing you're writing a luxe life story. If it's posted, you should send me a link. I'd love to read it because I live for these stories. LOL. I love that most of you are convinced that Claire has a secret heritage. I haven't planned any other love interest for the girls because the plot is also them clamoring for Cam. Sorry! Lily! You caught the connection. We'll seeeeee. Oh and, I'm sorry about the re-posting of the last chapter. Fanfiction was being so weird, but hopefully it's back to normal and you guys can see this new chapter.
Um, warning for this chapter. Language. I can't seem to help it. I base the guy scenes off how my guy friends talk in real life and they are curse bombs all over the place. It's just what comes out. Anyway, Kemp is the kind of guy I'd want to punch in the face in real life. Yes, they exist. Rich boys with entitlement issues, you know? I picture him in a frat too. I don't know. Anyway, part two of the parties to come next time!
Also, I have a baby Derrick/Cam flashback so you can see how they became friends, but also HOW THEIR SOCIETY WORKS. Do you see what Derrick's dad did? Do you see how manipulated to be influential they were as kids? Obvi, this doesn't mean they're not best friends still, but yeah. Their world, man. ALSO, it is pure chance that 1998 was a FIFA year.
Enjoy!
Chapter Ten: Class and Luxe
##
1998
It happened so fast, Cam couldn't even process it. One minute a curly haired boy was in his face and the next, he was face down in the grass with cold dirt in his mouth. His shirt was uncomfortably soaked through from the damp mud and Cam was sure he had scabbed and ripped through his uniform pants, judging from the stinging his knees. His mother wouldn't be happy. He felt embarrassing tears burning in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" a voice asked.
Cam rolled over onto his back and blinked quickly to clear his vision. An unfamiliar face was looking down at him. He noticed tanned skin, freckles, and bright blond hair and recognized the new kid.
"Yeah," Cam muttered, blushing red and pushing off his hands slowly. His pants were ruined and so was his uniform blazer. He spat out a mouthful of spit, but the bitter taste lingered in his mouth. He turned to see at Kemp Hurley staring at the both of them, red faced and enraged.
"I'm going to tell my dad you hit me!" Kemp was shouting at the new kid. Cam noticed that he was rubbing his arm like he was in pain.
"Then I'll tell my dad you're a bully," the blond haired boy yelled back. "I saw the way you shoved him off the curb. You could have really hurt him. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
Kemp spluttered. "This isn't any of your business, so stay out of it! I'm trying to teach this asshole a lesson!"
Derrick didn't seem the least bit intimidated, something that made Cam feel like a wimp. He quickly wiped the tear tracks still staining his face and clamored to his feet.
But before anymore action could take place, a metallic gold limousine pulled up into the driveway outside Briarwood, drawing Kemp's attention. He turned back to Derrick. "This isn't over!" He glanced at Cam too, still red-faced. "And you! Get ready for round two tomorrow!" He made a threatening motion, punching his fist into his open hand. "I'm going to kick your ass!"
Kemp ran over to his ride, slid in, slammed the door, and was driven away.
The boy who had come to Cam's rescue turned to him and asked again, "Are you okay? You're bleeding."
Cam looked down at realized distantly that he was right. There were bloody scraps on his right knee. He wasn't sure what to do about it. At any moment, one of his parents was going to pull into the driveway to pick him up and if it just happened to be his mother today, she would go into full scale panic mode at seeing him like this. The boy drew out a white, perfectly folded handkerchief from his blazer pocket and handed it to Cam. "Here, just use this."
Cam accepted the handkerchief from his savior gratefully and dropped onto the grass. He bit his lip and drew his knees up to his chest to pat at the blood.
He had seen him around school before. The new kid was hard to missed, transferring into class halfway through the semester. His bright blond hair looked highlighted and he was picked on for being always singled out in PE. It didn't seem to faze him at all though, Cam noticed. They weren't in the same classes, but Cam had noticed that the boy had private soccer lessons with Coach Mason every day after school.
"I'm Derrick Harrington," the new kid introduced. He sat down in the grass next to Cam. "What did you do to piss off Kemp so much?"
"I'm Cam Fisher," he replied shyly. He cleared his throat, wondering whether or not to share. In the end, he did. "I... I caught him trying to cheat off my math test, so I told the teacher on him. He got in trouble and was sent to the Dean's office, so now he wants to fight me."
"You shouldn't feel bad," Derrick consoled. "Kemp wants to fight everyone."
"…Are you friends with him?" Cam asked, hesitantly.
"Nah. His dad does business with my dad, so I'm instructed to be nice to him, but to be honest, I can't stand him."
Cam laughed in relief. For a moment, he had thought that Derrick was actually Kemp's friend. "Why are you here so late?" he asked.
"I had to take a special test in Math. They don't think I'm good enough, even though I had tutoring every single day this summer," Derrick explained, unabashedly.
"I suck at math too," Cam told him quietly, feeling sympathetic. He was pretty bad at math, but he'd never had to take any special tests before. He would have felt bad or embarrassed for Derrick if the guy wasn't so calm and brazen about it.
"Why are you here so late?" Derrick asked him.
"I'm always here late. My parents are always busy, sometimes they just forget to pick me up," Cam confided in return. He also found himself being bold. He thought of all the rumors surrounding Derrick and couldn't contain himself. He finally blurted out, "Is it true you're from France?"
Derrick shook his head, ripping out grass under his fingers in a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "Nah. I was born here in Westchester, but my parents took me all around Europe this summer for the FIFA World Cup. That's why I came back late for school."
Cam's jaw dropped in surprise. He wasn't that huge of a fan of soccer, but everyone knew about the World Cup. He hadn't known anyone who had been to a real soccer game before, let alone one halfway around the world. "Really? What was it like? Did you get to meet any of the players?"
"It was freaking awesome," Derrick beamed. "We got box seats for all the games and I was in the audience when they won." He stopped abruptly and accessed Cam in deliberation for a moment. He also glanced around the school, but there was no one around at all. Finally, he leaned in close and Cam did the same. "I'm going to tell you something, but first you have to promise not to tell anyone."
"Okay, yeah, sure," Cam replied earnestly.
"Swear on it. On your life."
"I swear on my life," Cam pledged solemnly.
Derrick cracked a boyish grin. "Okay. Have you ever heard of Zinedine Zidane?"
"Yeah," Cam replied instantly, even though it took him a beat longer to actually connect the name. He had heard it before somewhere, probably on the news or from his parents or something. It hit him though. Zindane had just won some fancy award as FIFA's Player of the Year.
"I met him," Derrick confided.
"No way!" Cam laughed. "That's bullshit."
"It's the truth!" Derrick replied hotly. "I have a picture and a signed poster in my bedroom! I even met David Beckham and Ronaldo Lima."
Before Cam could respond with more disbelief, a large black car rolled up in the school's driveway. The tinted window rolled down and seated in the backseat was the most intense man Cam had ever seen. And even though the man dressed entirely in black in a fancy business suit and dark sunglasses, much like his own father sometimes, this man's face was set in harsh lines and a stern frown. He was intimidating.
"That's my ride," Derrick announced. "See you later."
A uniformed chauffer got out and opened the door for Derrick. Derrick slid in and greeted his father, but the car didn't pull away just yet. Instead, Cam watched with considerable interest as they chatted through the open window. Derrick's dad pointed a finger at Cam while the chauffer left the car idling. A second later, Derrick turned back around to face Cam.
"My dad wants to know if you need a ride home!" he called.
Cam pushed to his feet in embarrassment as all eyes landed on him. He wasn't used to all the attention. "No, it's okay! My parents should be on their way!" he yelled back, but Derrick's dad gestured him over with a hand. Cam walked over with just a little bit of hesitation. He was pretty scary.
"It's almost seven. Who's coming to get you?" Derrick's dad asked gruffly. Cam looked up at the sky in surprise, only noticing just now that it was getting dark.
"Probably my mom," Cam answered.
"Well, it's too late for you to wait by yourself. Who's your mother?"
"Ella Fisher."
The man paused for a beat. "Ah—Cameron Fisher. You're Matthew Fisher's boy. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah," Cam replied in surprise, wondering how this man knew his parents.
Derrick's dad answered his unspoken question. "I know your family very well. Your dad's side, anyway. I'm Chase Harrington. Don't you live on Cedar Walk?" Cam nodded and he continued, "That's very close to us on Oak Lane. Get over here. Let's call your parents to see if they're on their way." Chase reached for the car phone without preamble. Within minutes, he was connected to the Fisher residence. He discovered from one of the Fisher maids that Ella had jetted off to Europe on an unexpected shopping spree and that Matthew was stuck at a work with an auto emergency. He nodded and instructed the maid, "Tell Matthew that Chase Harrington will be sending Cameron home tonight."
And again, before Cam could really process it, he was sitting inside Derrick's dad's new Bentley, sandwiched next to Derrick as the car pulled out of the school's driveway.
"Did you know your mother was going away?" Chase asked, already engrossed back in his work papers.
"No, but she does that a lot," Cam answered softly in embarrassment.
Chase harrumphed, shuffling his papers before sliding them back into his briefcase. He pulled out another stack and muttered under his breath, "That Ella. Completely irresponsible. What on Earth your father ever saw in a Hartman I'll never understand." He glanced up at the two boys and nodded with approval. "Well, this is a good coincidence then. I'm glad you and Derrick are friends at least."
"We just met," Derrick interjected, turning red with embarrassment.
"Don't be rude, son," Chase scolded. "Cameron is your classmate and we've known his family for a long time. Of course you two are friends." He turned to Cam and smiled slightly. It freaked Cam out even more, though he had enough manners ingrained in him to hide it. "Derrick has made so few friends since returning from France. He's been very lonely; I'll call your father to arrange for you the two of you to play together."
Derrick and Cam sat there together, completely mortified, yet oddly relived too… each in their own ways.
Derrick was surprised by how friendly his normally disapproving father was being toward Cam, especially since he had forbidden any guests or friends at their estate. He had recently tried to invite another boy from Briarwood over after a soccer match, but had been crushed when his father told him sternly, "Son, we can't have just anyone over, you know. We need to know what type of family they are first. I've instructed you before, Derrick; you need to be careful with what sort of people you associate with." Derrick was excited to finally have his father's seal of approval.
And as for Cam… Cam was just glad to be getting a ride home before it got dark again. He was also extremely excited to find that he was going to discover if Derrick really had signed photographs and posters of famous soccer players in his bedroom.
It was the start of their friendship.
##
The warm sea breeze and salty spray ruffled Claire's blonde hair as they sped toward Massie's family's island resort in a sleek white speedboat. The water was an impossibly blinding turquoise blue and it almost hurt to look at for too long, but Claire just couldn't help herself. The sight was unbelievable, clear water pressing in on them on all sides with only tiny islands in the distance. The speedboat was traveling at high-speed and soon, they were approaching an island spotted with balmy palm trees and adorable small thatch roof villas.
William Block's island resort was nothing like the luxury five star hotels she had seen advertised on television, but Claire could tell that it was devised as the ultimate retreat for relaxation. With nothing but calm waters surrounding them for miles around, it was a personal and private island aimed at getting away. It consisted of twenty wooden villas extending out over the deck into the shallow waters and coral reefs.
As the speedboat pulled up to a stop at the tropical pier deck, a line of workers in matching uniforms stood at strict attention, holding trays of more mimosas. Massie was helped off the boat first; she greeted her father's crew happily.
When the rest of the girls were all assembled on the pier, Massie raised her glass and smiled brightly at them. "Welcome to Tiamo Island Resort! My father wanted to create a special paradise where you can relax and enjoy the love of nature and beauty. This island is ours, and I hope you guys enjoy it with me this weekend."
Massie toasted and group and everyone downed their mimosas in excitement. Claire took a small sip if hers, already full from snacking on the plane. Massie placed her glass back on the tray and clapped her hands. "Okay, first off, I've arranged a shopping spree at the resorts botique. As a gift from me, each of you can pick out five new items. To make it a challenge, because we don't want to miss cocktails at sunset, you each have only twenty minutes! Grab whatever you can before the stores close!"
Before Massie had even finished her speech, there were already excited squeals as the girls dashed down the pier toward the island boutique. Claire followed at a slower pace and when she finally entered the store, it was a mess of frenzied shoppers vying to outdo each other with the most fashionable pieces. The normally calm wood polished floors were scattered with high heeled shoes and sandals, the racks of clothing were disrupted as hangers were haphazardly returned, and girls were everywhere, skipping from table to table.
Claire watched as Livvy Collins wrestled with another girl for a top. "Let go, Carrie! This is a size small, as if you'll ever fit your new boobs into this!"
Massie sat perched on a counter, snacking on strawberries from a Baccarat glass bowl held by an attendant and savoring the chaos. She took pride in adding more tension to the game by calling out the remaining time at one-minute intervals. Claire approached a table near her and marveled at the detailed work on the beaded jewelry. This was exactly something she would have loved to buy at a market.
"Ugh, this is horrible, Massie. Who the heck are all these no-named designers?" Liz Goldman called out.
"Excuse me?" Massie dropped a strawberry pit into another bowl proffered by her attendant and raised her brows. "What do you mean no name? This is all Balmain, Alexis Mabille, Lavin, and rising stars. These are hot picks from the top designers this year."
Liz sniffed, flipping through a rack of Hervé Léger dresses in feigned disgust. She tossed her bright hair over her shoulder and smiled snidely. "Well, I only wear the classics. Chanel, Dior, and Prada."
"Well, tough luck," Massie replied, rolling her eyes. "If you're not interested in slumming it this weekend, you can go home. Would you like Ambra here to escort you off the island?"
Liz didn't respond.
Massie turned to Claire, who was closest, and confided with a scoff, "New money. They think throwing on something Dior makes them hot shit, but all it really advertises is tacky." She shook her head and accepted another strawberry. It was obvious she didn't even see Liz as the same level as her no matter the slight. She wasn't even offended. To Massie, Liz was the water that comes out of the ketchup bottle; Claire could see that plainly in her blazé attitude. She gestured at her attendant and the worker turned and offered Claire the bowl of strawberries.
She accepted, sliding closer as Massie leaned down and whispered, "I first met Liz through this meet-and-greet for this merge at my dad's company. Her dad was only just showing up on the market, so my dad made me invite her to my annual sleepover. Liz wet my sleeping bag and never lived it down. She chopped off all her hair and wore crocs for the rest of the year."
Claire glanced back at where Liz was dropping Charlotte Olympia pumps on the ground in retaliation. Her light tresses were golden, thick, and glossy. It was easily her best feature, so it was hard to picture. She confided in Massie so.
Massie smiled. "Well, my father finally decided to give them a break and merged with their company. My family practically made hers. That's why she's here, by the way. Family business, you know how it is. But the moment that first check came in, Liz got herself new cheekbones, signature extensions, and a wardrobe. All Dior and Chanel, like you heard. You wouldn't believe how fast she transformed." Massie glanced at her watch. "Speaking of—you should be shopping! Time's running out."
Claire continued browsing the store and she started to understand what Massie was saying. None of the clothing had designer labels on them, but they were still elegant, yet classy. And when Claire lifted a sleeve of a top from someone called Peachoo + Krejberg to check the price tag, her eyes widened at the cost. 1,800 dollars. That was practically two months rent for her back in Chicago! She swallowed, feeling lightheaded that Massie was giving away five articles of clothing that could pay practically pay for her living.
Claire approached another rack of sundresses, untouched by the other girls, since there were no labels visible. Claire definitely understood the reason of understated wear. Everything on this rack was so simple, yet intricately detailed. She found a white linen blouse with tiny ruffles and a summer sundress made of the lightest silk she had ever felt.
Hidden behind another rack of shoes, pursuing the jeweled bracelets, Claire could hear two girls chattering away.
"…Seriously though, where did she get those pants? But it's nothing new. You can't expect new money to have any style."
"Actually, Alicia told me she isn't new money at all! She's a nobody from Chicago."
"I knew it! She has the same desperate look that all my servants have."
There were cackles and Claire forced herself not to interject, to protest, to reveal herself. She stayed silent, frozen in shock at the cattiness of these girls.
"You just wait though, with all that Fisher money; she's going to upgrade pretty fucking fast."
"We'll see… All the money in the world can't buy you class, if you're not born with it."
The girls moved away, heading to the fitting rooms, and Claire was left with her burning thoughts. Claire was one hundred percent sure she was classier than those two girls combined. For one, she didn't talk shit about people, ever. She also never judged anyone on what they wore or what they looked like. Were these girls really so insecure they had to pick at every little thing about her?
She rolled her eyes, only to have them caught on a pair of soft felt espadrilles, perfect for the beach and a perfect match for her blouse. She picked them up just as Massie called, "Times up! The boutique is closed!"
The girls were heading out toward the beach, as she walked past, Massie smirked. "How'd it go?"
"Chaos," Claire replied instantly.
Massie smirked wider. "That's what makes shopping so much fun!"
Claire giggled, though she couldn't see how fighting over shirts and yelling shrilly at each other constituted as fun.
"What'd you get?" Massie asked, peeking at her shopping bag. Claire held it open for her perusal. "You have good taste. That silk dress is done by this designer that hand-paints all his dresses."
At those words, Claire remembered faintly that Olivia had been wearing a dress similar to this at the country club. She felt a bitter taste in her mouth, but she adored the simplicity of the dress too much. Now that she was thinking about it, she wondered distantly why Olivia wasn't invited. She smiled and said, "They're lovely. Everything in your store is so unique. You were right. All of this is like nothing like I've ever seen."
With the shopping spree over and the girls headed for more cocktails, Claire decided to take a breather on the beach. She walked down the pier and sat on the deck, her feet dipping into the cool ocean water. It was so shallow; her feet were touching the soft white sand. She dug her toes in and closed her eyes at the feeling.
She could hardly believe that she was on an island in the middle of the Bahamas. She had never once imagined that she would be someplace like this. Not even for her honeymoon—but now she was thrown into this world where trips like this were apparently the norm. It was hard to believe. Claire suddenly missed Cam so much. He had tossed her straight into this luxe lifestyle and wasn't even here to anchor her in. She dug into her pant pockets and fished out her cell phone.
But as part of the tranquil and peaceful environment of the island, there was no cell service.
Claire clicked her screen off and turned back to the ocean view with a sigh. If the girls were at a serene paradise, what were the boys up to for their party?
##
"NIGGAS IN MONTE CARLOOOOOOOO!" Kemp shouted into the sky, throwing his arms up in the air the moment they disembarked from his private jet. Hiking his bag over his shoulder, Cam snorted at the sight of five bright matching gold limousines waiting for them on the tarmac.
"Jesus, don't tell me we're actually riding in one of those," Dempsey Solomon asked in disgust at the sight.
"Oh this is just typical Kemp," Cam explained with a smile. He wondered what the altruistic safari-going Demspey made of the sight of Kemp Hurley in his pinstripe bright orange and blue suit, yellow dress pants, and mint green ascot and matching loafers. As the only son of Sebastian and Teresa Hurley, Kemp was famed in New York's society for his party animal lifestyle and 'brave and bold statements' in fashion. He annually hosted the wildest parties and the latest jet set resort in fashion this season, always with the hippest DJ's, the finest drinks, the hottest babes, and the best drugs. But as someone who had known him since childhood, Cam wasn't all that impressed. Or shocked.
"Kemp! I can't believe we had to fly in your old tin can. Your Falcon 900 had a climb time for a complete game of Monopoly. We should have taken my new Boeing!" Yuri Butterman (of Butterman Finances) complained.
"My dad's waiting for the new 7X to release into the market, and then you can kiss my ass, Ass!" Kemp retorted, without turning around.
Geoff Michaels (of Michaels Electronics) chimed in, "Nah, the Gulfstreams are the new shit. My dad's new G550 has the best range, a 12 cabin floor plan, and living areas with three temperature zones."
"Are you assholes done comparing the size of your dicks?" Josh Hotz cut in. "Because I'd like to hit the casinos sometime today."
The group piled into the limos, Cam wearily. He was praying that Derrick's bachelor weekend would go smoothly without a hitch. Derrick had been on edge all week, with the stress of the wedding and reception. Heading to the gambling capital of Europe with a group of testosterone and whiskey fueled guys sounded like a recipe for disaster to Cam.
And if this was going to be anything like their Spring Break in Cabo, it would be.
"This isn't exactly the high school reunion I was expecting," Dempsey murmured under his breath as he slid in next to Cam.
Cam eyed the lineup of guys that happened to be in the limo with them. Trust fund brats and preppy pretentious WASPs were definitely more Kemp's crowd than Derrick's. To be honest, Cam was pretty sure other than their old soccer team, Derrick didn't personally know anyone here. Cam curled his hands into fists. Of course, Kemp, the ass, would use Derrick's bachelor party as an excuse to host another boast worthy party extravaganza.
He wondered how much their parents would be willing to pay to get them out of the papers this time.
As the stream of limos rolled along the coastal highway of France toward Monte Carlo, the luxury gambling capital of Europe, landscapes of brightly lit hotels, casino, and nightlife became visible off the cliffs Alps extending over the beautiful French Riviera. The colors of the buildings pulsated in the late afternoon summer haze.
"Like Vegas, only without the heat and with an ocean view," Cam murmured out loud. He eyed the row of yachts and sailboats in the many piers and the distant twentieth century buildings and houses. Claire would have loved this place, her photography instincts would be having a field day. He wondered distantly if Claire would be interested in cutting part of their New York vacation a bit short to sail down part of France instead.
"Vegas is the kiddy pool, Cammy," Kemp called out, overhearing him. "This is where the real high rollers come to play."
##
The opulent lobby of the Hôtel de Paris featured a painted-glass dome skylight, a massive central bouquet that commanded attention, and legendary nineteenth century monuments. Cam sprawled out on a lush couch next to Josh, who was snickering in amusement, as they watched Kemp have one of the famous bitch fits he was known all around the world for.
"What the fuck! My family has been VIP members here for years. I booked the most expensive suite in this hotel over a week ago. How is it not ready?" Kemp raged at the refined manager behind the front desk.
"We apologize profusely, Mr. Hurley," the manager answered contritely. "Checkout time for the Winston Churchill suite is 3 o' clock, so the current guests have not vacated as of yet. The moment they do, our staff will have it cleaned and serviced for you as soon as possible."
Kemp fumed and raged as guests entering and exiting the lobby unabashedly watched with wide and eager eyes at the spectacle. The manager never once broke face though. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize business from the Hurley family. Kemp was such a brilliant loser that their casinos gained millions every time he stayed there. "Most of the other suites for your party are available. Please allow me to escort your party upstairs with complimentary bottles of your favorite Dom Perignon."
"As if I'm going to dirty my Bogettas at those rat holes. I want the penthouse or nothing."
"Why don't we head to the casino first?" Derrick interjected calmly. He was leaning against the counter and accepting room keys for their party from another worker. "It's what we were planning on doing anyway, man."
"Fine," Kemp conceded finally. He turned to the manager with another demand. "But we want the best private VIP only tables."
"Of course," the manager replied deftly, typing speedily on his computer. "Our most exclusive salons are always available for you, Mr. Hurley."
At that moment, Chris Plovert strolled into the lobby, looking haggard. "Plovert! Glad you found us," Derrick greeted heartily. Cam and Josh stood to greet him too.
"Yeah, it wasn't a problem. I know Monaco like the back of my hand. Stacy loves yachting down here. We come here all the time."
"Stacy, huh?" Cam asked, after a back slapping hug. It was the first time he'd seen Chris in years. He had heard about the wedding, but couldn't attend, on route to Chicago at the time.
"Yeah… She's amazing. You'll meet her next week. I'm bringing her to the wedding."
"Pussy whipped," Kemp coughed into his hand. Chris punched him, not really offended at all, but Cam rolled his eyes. How was it actually possible that Kemp hadn't matured one bit since they were in elementary school together?
"Well, I can't wait to meet the girl who stole the heartbreaker's heart," Cam laughed. Chris had the good looks and charisma that made him a player with a trail of broken hearts back in high school and then college. Of many notable relationships, Deena Geyser, a girl from OCD, had been so famously obsessed, she attempted to overdose on Advil just to get his attention after their breakup.
"Hey, I heard you brought your girlfriend to Westchester."
"Wow, word travels fast," Cam commented wryly as they headed out toward the casino across the street. It wasn't dark yet, but already the lights for the entrances were on, skylights waving. The sprawling world-famous Monte Carlo Casino glowed blue and purple in the dimness. Derrick crossed the lush pattern carpet and headed over to a Baccarat card table.
"Derrick, the VIP rooms are this way," Kemp called, trying to steer their group over to the rooms for high class patrons.
"Five dollar poker is the best though," Cam argued, not really interested in playing high stakes gambling either.
"We're moguls now, man! I created that whole scene back there at the hotel with the manager just so that we could score the best room. Why would you want to play here with all these smelly Europeans?" Kemp asked, genuinely disgusted.
"How about we play a couple of rounds here and then we'll head to the room, okay?" Derrick sighed.
"We'll join you," Chris told Derrick, sliding into an empty seat. Josh did the same after a beat.
Kemp sniffed. "Well then, I'll meet you guys there. I can't play at these kiddy tables. I only get hard when I'm betting at least fifty thousand a hand. Who's with me?" Most of Kemp's new money crew headed off with him, with the exception of Dempsey and them. Derrick dropped his face in his hands, pressed his eyes shut, and rubbed his temples.
The dealer began expertly started to flick out cards, professionally ignoring the spectacle. Cam, on the other hand, fumed. Kemp was such a dick. Why did he expect anything different? He should have pushed for a relaxing bachelor party at Derrick's vacation home harder instead. He wondered how he was going to get through this weekend.
##
Author's Note: FUN FACT – The penthouse diamond suite at the Hotel de Paris is 15,513.59 dollars… a night. Excuse me while I go cry in envy because there is no way in the world I will ever be able to witness that type of luxury in my lifetime. You guys can search up the hotel in Google Image, it's gorgeous. Also, any private island resort for a look at Claire's party too.
Review if you like?