CHAPTER 11: PHEROMONE PARTY

"What the hell do you want from me again?" I asked, my voice dripping with boredom as I glared at Stephen.

Here he is again, gracing the club with his presence. The second he caught sight of me, he dragged me up to the second floor and shoved me into a plush booth in the reserved VIP section.

I didn't even want to come with him. I was busy, okay? Busy chasing after filthy-rich customers with fat wallets, hoping to squeeze enough tips out of them to put a dent in my monstrous debt.

Stephen sprawled out on a massive sofa, looking like a lord. I sat across from him on an equally oversized couch. The booth was huge—perks of being a rich bastard, I guess.

"Chill, bro," he said smoothly.

Chill? If I slammed his face into the glass table, maybe I'd chill. How was I supposed to stay calm when I practically had a death sentence hanging over my head, all because my debts had dragged me into the abyss?

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you don't have anything useful to say, I'm out of here."

I made a move to stand, but he stopped me.

"I'll give you a tip."

I immediately sank back into the leather couch, adjusting my posture. See? I’m a reasonable guy. Easy to talk to. As long as the tip is huge—because if it's not, I'm breaking his nose.

"That better be a damn good tip or you're dead meat."

Stephen just chuckled while shaking his head. "You act so tough. You really think I don't know you stole money from my wallet the other night?"

I grimaced, putting on my most offended face. "Me? A thief? With a face this handsome? Ha! In your dreams, buddy."

"Dude, I was drunk, not blind," he replied with a smirk. "I know you were the last person with me, so I know you lifted the cash."

He really thought I was going to break down and confess. Why would I? I didn't steal a thing. That cash I snagged from his wallet the other night? That was my self-awarded tip for dealing with his drunk ass. He basically told me I could have it anyway! I just did him the honor of collecting it directly from his wallet.

Honestly, he should be thanking me. If I were a bad person, I would've swiped his black cards too, considering how much of my precious life he wasted.

"You know, if anyone here is a thief, it's you," I said, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Stephen put on an innocent, utterly infuriating expression. "Oh yeah? What could I possibly steal from you? You don't even have money."

My eyebrows shot up. "You don't know? You stole the most valuable thing I own."

"Which is?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"My time," I gritted out through clenched teeth. "You stole my time."

He threw his head back and laughed. This guy was really testing my limits today. If he wasn't laughing at me, he was tossing out arrogant remarks like he was king of the world.

"Don't worry, I'll tip you well," he said, tone dripping with smugness.

Look, I'm a proud guy. I hate it when people look down on me. But when cold, hard cash enters the conversation? Hey, pride doesn't pay the loan sharks, right?

"You better," I warned.

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

"I won't just steal the cash from your wallet next time," I said, leaning in, words spilling out in a rapid fire. "I'll take all your credit cards, and then I'll poke holes in every single condom in your wallet so the next time you hook up with someone, you accidentally make a baby."

Stephen doubled over, wheezing and clutching his stomach like he was in physical pain from laughing so hard.

"Man... you're insane," he wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

I scowled. What was so funny? Didn't he realize I was serious?

"You know, I really want to strangle you right now," I said flatly.

"Why?"

"Because your laugh is hideous. You look like a gorilla at the zoo."

The corner of his lip twitched upward, and he stroked his chin playfully. "Well, then I must be the handsomest gorilla you've ever laid eyes on," he boasted, dropping a obnoxious wink.

Since when were gorillas handsome? Sometimes I swear this guy's brain shoots off into outer space.

"Yeah, sure. But you're still a gorilla."

He winced slightly at that.

"Man, I remember how you used to roast everyone back then," Stephen said, shaking his head with a fond smile. "I can't believe that after five years, you haven't changed at all."

Honestly? I didn't have a single memory of hanging out with him in the past. Makes sense—I probably thought he was a total loser back then too.

"If I changed, who would be around to roast your ass?" I replied sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest. "You should be thanking me."

He furrowed his brows. "Just so you know, I really didn't like you in high school."

"Likewise."

Even without my memories, I knew instinctively that I probably hated his guts, too.

"In fact, it wasn't just me," Stephen added, his face suddenly turning dead serious. "A bunch of us actually formed a club back then. A 'We Hate Neo' club."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, wow. Really? What do you want me to do, give you guys a trophy?"

"They want to see you," he said bluntly.

Wow, amazing. A bunch of people who hated my guts started a club, and now they want to meet up? For what? To salvage me?

"Bro, they miss you!" he pushed on. "They miss their professional roast master. Come with me this Saturday."

"Ha! What am I, an idiot?" I barked. "Why would I go? So you guys can turn me into a laughingstock like you're doing right now?"

"Man, it's not like that. Think of it like a high school reunion party!"

High school reunion my ass. If I went there, they'd just humiliate me. I wasn't about to let a room full of snobs walk all over me. The moment they tried, my inner dragon would scorch the place down.

"Why would I go to a reunion full of people who hate me?" I snapped. "I'm not suicidal."

Who knows what those freaks would do to me? Did he think I was stupid? Plus, my pride wouldn't allow—

"I'll pay you."

—be foolish enough to turn down money. Right! Money is life!

"How much?" I asked instantly, dropping the attitude.

Hey, gotta be sure. I have a mountain of debt to clear.

A slow, amused smirk spread across Stephen's face, his eyes glinting. "Name your price. Whatever you want."

Suddenly, a bright, heavenly aura seemed to bloom around Stephen's head, complete with imaginary angel wings sprouting from his back.

Is this... the answer to my prayers?! I had no idea what was going to happen at this reunion party, but if I passed this up, I'd stay broke.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I need the cash.

"Fine. I'm in," I agreed.

His smile stretched even wider.

What I didn't realize back then was that this "reunion" Stephen was talking about wasn't just some casual hangout.

It was a Pheromone Party.

Fuck. I'm totally screwed.