RICHARD THE DRUNK

Sloane shook off the lingering chill of Brett Thorne’s icy gaze, forcing her heart rate to slow down. The dark executive elevator doors had closed, taking her father’s ultimate enemy up to the penthouse suites.

Focus, Sloane, she scolded herself. You have $8.29. Worry about the four-billion-dollar shark later. Right now, you need two hundred bucks.

Sloane turned back toward the end of the marble bar, sliding effortlessly onto the leather barstool right beside the lonely, grey-haired man in the bespoke suit.

He blinked, turning his bloodshot eyes toward her. His gaze dragged slowly down her hot pink silk dress, his mouth falling open slightly.

"Well... hello, darlin'," he slurred, a lazy, appreciative grin spreading across his face. "Name's Richard. Where'd a pretty thing like you drop down from?"

"Just floating around," Sloane said smoothly, crossing her long legs with practiced grace. "It looked like you were enjoying a quiet evening."

"Not anymore," he chuckled, signaling the bartender with a heavy, gold-ringed hand. "What can I get you? Name it. Anything you want."

Sloane offered a delicate, shy smile. A total act. "Oh, I'm not sure. Whatever you think is good."

The man puffed out his chest, leaning proudly against the bar. "Give the lady a Sex on the Beach," he told the bartender with supreme confidence. "All the pretty girls love 'em."

Sloane kept her smile rigidly fixed on her face, though internally, her soul left her body. A Sex on the Beach? What is this, spring break in Cabo?

Two minutes later, a tall, neon-orange glass adorned with a neon pink umbrella and a maraschino cherry was placed in front of her.

"Enjoy," the man grinned, taking a heavy gulp of his own drink.

Sloane picked up the straw, taking a tiny, polite sip. It tasted like pure corn syrup and cheap vodka. She pulled out her phone underneath the bar edge, tapping the screen awake.

The LUS interface flickered to life, showing an active live-tracker:

[ CURRENT MISSION TAB ]

Item Detected: Sex on the Beach ($22.00)

Progress: $22.00 / $200.00

Time Remaining: 03:14:22

Sloane stared at the numbers. Twenty-two dollars?! For fruit punch and vodka?!

Her mind rapidly did the math. She would have to drink nearly ten of these sugary abominations to reach her two-hundred-dollar requirement. Not only would her stomach collapse, but she’d be completely hammered and unfunctioning before she ever saw a dime.

Wait, Sloane thought, her eyes narrowing at the live tracker. The System doesn't care what I drink. It just cares about the total bill he pays for me.

She set her glass down, leaning in a little closer to him, her voice dropping into a intimate, husky purr. "You know... a distinguished man like you shouldn't be drinking house scotch." She pointed a manicured finger at the top-shelf display behind the bar. "Isn't that Macallan 25 calling your name?"

The man blinked, flattered. "The Macallan 25? That's... well, that's a three-hundred dollar pour, darlin'."

"A rare drink for a rare gentleman," Sloane cooed, batting her dark eyelashes. "Unless... it's out of your budget? I completely understand."

His ego took the bait instantly. His posture straightened, and he slapped his leather wallet onto the bar. "Out of my budget? Please! Bartender! Two double shots of the Macallan 25. Put it on my tab."

The bartender’s eyes widened, but he immediately reached for the crystal bottle.

Sloane watched as two heavy crystal tumblers were poured. The moment the bartender swiped the man's black card to open the tab, Sloane’s phone vibrated violently against her thigh.

CHA-CHING!

Sloane pulled her phone down to check the screen:

[ MAIN MISSION 1: COMPLETE! ]

Target: High-Net-Worth Male (Richard - Corporate Attorney)

Total Tab Covered: $322.00

Conversion Rate: 50%

Payout Processing: $161.00

[ CONGRATULATIONS! $161.00 TRANSFERRED TO YOUR BANK ACCOUNT. ]

New Liquid Balance: $169.29

Sloane let out a quiet breath of sheer relief. One hundred and sixty-nine dollars! It wasn't eight thousand, but it was real money.

"Here's to us, darlin'," Richard said, lifting his crystal glass, totally oblivious to her internal celebration.

Sloane touched her glass to his and swallowed her drink in two gulps. "It's been so lovely chatting with you, Richard, but I actually have to…"

Before she could slide off the barstool, Richard’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. His grip wasn't violent, but it was firm, his slurred voice turning suddenly demanding.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," he grunted, his eyes narrowing as his smile faded. "You aren't going anywhere. I just dropped over three hundred bucks on you in ten minutes."

Sloane froze, a cold flash of anger rushing through her veins. Her upper lip curled in disgust. "Let go of my wrist, Richard."

"I don't think so," he sneered, leaning into her space, his breath smelling heavily of alcohol. "I thought you were coming up to my room. You don't just take a man's expensive liquor and walk out."

The Lewis pride boiled over inside her. Sloane gripped her sticky Sex on the Beach cocktail, ready to throw the sugary orange liquid directly into his face and tell him to go straight to hell.

BZZZZT!

Her phone screen violently flashed blue, popping up an emergency override text directly over her screen:

[ SIDE QUEST DETECTED: AMICABLE DEPARTURE ]

System Warning: Burning bridges with high-net-worth targets creates unnecessary hostility. This target holds Tier 2 networking value.

Objective: De-escalate and exchange contact information smoothly without physical conflict.

Reward: +$10.00 Direct Cash Bonus.

Sloane stared at the blue pop-up, her fingers trembling against her cocktail glass. Ten extra dollars just to fake nice for thirty seconds?

She closed her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, and swallowed her fiery temper.

She forced her tight expression into a soft, pouty, disappointed expression. She gently patted Richard's hand until his grip loosened on her wrist.

"Richard... I would love to," she lied smoothly, her voice dripping with artificial sweet disappointment. "But my strict elder sister is literally waiting in a cab outside for me right now. If I'm not out there in two minutes, she’s coming inside… and she's a corporate auditor."

Richard blinked, his drunken brain trying to process the lie. "A... an auditor?"

"Yes," Sloane whispered conspiratorially, pulling her phone out and opening her contacts. "Give me your number. I want to call you the second I get away from her tomorrow night. We can get a proper dinner. Just you and me."

Richard’s bruised ego was instantly healed. A slow, foolish grin returned to his face. "Tomorrow night? Really?"

"I insist," Sloane smiled, letting him punch his number into her phone. She saved it under Richard The Drunk, gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and stood up. "I'll text you as soon as I wake up, handsome."

"I'll hold you to it, darlin'," Richard called out, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he reached for his scotch.

The second Sloane turned her back and started walking toward the hotel exit, her phone chimed softly in her palm.

[ SIDE QUEST COMPLETE! ]

Amicable Departure Verified.

Bonus Payout: +$10.00

New Liquid Balance: $179.29

Pushing through the revolving glass doors of The Sovereign, the cool night air hit Sloane’s face. She leaned against the exterior stone wall, taking a deep, shuddering breath, her legs feeling like jelly.

She looked at her banking app: $179.29.

She had survived her first real hustle. She had dodged a creepy guy, pocketed almost two hundred dollars, and locked eyes with Brett Thorne.

Sloane took a sip of the night air, a genuine, wild smile breaking across her face.

"One hundred and seventy-nine down," she whispered into the city night. "Eighty-three hundred to go."