In the Billionaires Club

by Burroughs, Anne

  Copyright 2015 Anne Burroughs

  All rights reserved.

  The characters in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexual and mature situations and is intended for readers over the age of eighteen.

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  Contents

  preface

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  preface

  Below an old red brick building in the middle of San Francisco sits a hole-in-the-wall joint with worn steps, a pitted wooden bar, cramped booths with ripped leather seats, and smoke-stained mirrors. The modest sign outside says Sal’s Place, but it is better known as the Billionaire’s Club.

  Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak, Bill Gates, Larry Ellison, and host of other young geeks and nerds spent hours upon hours in the bar decades earlier, sharing dreams, creating business plans, and plotting what would some day be businesses that would change the world. As they each became rich beyond their wildest dreams, Sal’s became their haven, a place where they would escape and share concerns that only other rich visionaries could understand.

  Eventually, Sal’s became a private club catering only to those with extraordinary bank accounts. An imposing bouncer stood at the front whose sole job was to hold out his right hand, palm out. The only people he lowered his arm for were a select few billionaire members and their rare guests. For two decades getting into the Billionaire’s Club as a guest was harder than getting into any club in the world.

  But in recent years things have changed. The newest of new money is in the hands of the young and single. Swapping stories of IPOs and acquisitions and eighty hour work weeks leading to astounding new technology is still omnipresent, but the new members blow off steam by doing more than talking shop. They invite pretty women, handsome men, interesting people, and friends to the club, and what was a private haven for Bill Gates and Steve Jobs has become a place to blow off steam and have fun for the newly minted wealthy.

  Sal’s Place is a very different place in 2015 than it was in 1985.

  chapter one

  Gin Langdon was wearing her favorite tight black minidress and chatting with her friend Lisa at the Orion nightclub when an asshole with curly back hair and a smirk walked up to her. “I have bet with my friend over there that you aren’t wearing anything under that dress.”

  Gin looked at the guy. He had expensive clothes, but then again everybody did on a Friday night at the Orion. She smiled. “What a coincidence, I have a bet with my friend right here that you don’t have anything under your pants.”

  Lisa practically spit out her drink as she laughed. Asshole guy smiled even wider. “Oh, you’re spunky. I like you.” He pulled out his wallet. Gin noticed the American Express Black Card as the man fished through some bills. After pulling out a plain white business card, asshole guy held it out to her. “There’s a bar called Sal’s. The address is on this card. If you haven’t heard of it, ask your friends. One of them will have. You can insult me over drinks there on Monday.” Gin took the card and looked at it. It was embossed with a hologram type logo that said “Sal’s,” with the address in plain black ink underneath. “Show the card to Dave outside. He’ll let you in. Six o’clock.”

  “What if I don’t show up?”

  Asshole guy laughed. “You’ll show up.”

  Gin was intrigued. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome and had an Amex black card, but what she was really drawn to was his extreme arrogance. Four years out of college, and she still was attracted to the bad boys who just appeared to own the room. Even as they acted like assholes they had this kind of charisma to them. She let her guard down and revealed a bit of her curiosity. “What’s your name?”

  “Phillip,” he replied. “By the way, your drinks are on me for the rest of the night.” Phillip turned to walk away, paused, and then turned back. “See you on Monday.” He then spun around and left, heading for a group of guys near the front door.

  Gin looked at Lisa and showed her the card. Lisa seemed as stunned by the encounter as Gin was. Shaking her head, Gin muttered, “What the fuck was that?”

  “Gin—”

  Gin held up the card. “I mean, this isn’t even charming in an old school way. It would have been cool if it was his personal calling card with some kind of title like ‘esquire’ on it. But this is a card with the address of a bar.”

  “Gin—”

  “I just don’t get it. I mean he’s cute and kind of charismatic in a—”

  “Gin!” Gin looked at Lisa, finally noticing that she had something important to say.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “That’s the Billionaires Club, you idiot.”

  “The what?”

  “Sal’s, that’s the old name for the private club downtown where Steve Jobs planned out the Mac and Jack Dorsey created Twitter.” Lisa looked frustrated. “You have to have heard of the Billionaires Club. It’s where every young hot rich guy in Silicon Valley hangs out. It’s like impossible to get in. That card in your hand is like the single woman’s version of Willy Wonka’s golden ticket.”

  “Wait. So that mean’s Phillip is—”

  “A billionaire or damn close. He’s probably a founder of some stupid web company that recently went public.”

  Gin looked at the card again. That explained why the logo was a hologram. It was to make it practically impossible to counterfeit. It really was a golden ticket. Gin looked at her friend. “He was kind of an asshole.”

  “And you’re kind of poor. You can help him get over being an asshole, and he’ll help you get over being poor.”

  Laughing, Gin looked over at where Phillip was hanging out. He was no longer there. She looked around but couldn’t find him anywhere else. “I think he left.”

  “He’s probably going off to fill his fireplace with hundred dollar bills to burn as he sits back and admires his Rembrandt above the mantle and sips a cognac.”

  “He seems more like the type to go to a strip club and put hundred dollar bills in G strings while the strippers giggle at him.”

  “You’re probably right.” Lisa finished her drink and put it on the table. “Do you think he left the tab open for us?”

  Gin chugged her drink. “Only one way to find out.”

  The tab was not only open, the bartender said they were welcome to use the VIP section if they wanted. Lisa looked at Gin and said, “Oh, hell yeah.” The two friends upgraded their drinks to the top shelf and relocated to the VIP area.

  Gin woke up the next morning with a raging hangover. She hadn’t drunk that much in a long time. She was used to having men buy her as many drinks as she liked, but she would always pace herself as they would unfailingly try to get her drunk, and Gin had learned in college that she tended to say yes to just about anything when she was drunk.

  But Phillip had left the Orion with the tab open. As a result, there was plenty of alcoh
ol with no one to try and take advantage of her drinking it. Gin and Lisa spent the night dancing with each other, cracking jokes, and being silly as they got drunker and drunker on extremely expensive drinks.

  It was one of the most fun nights Gin had in a long time.

  It sure is easier to have fun when you aren’t worrying about money, she thought as she gulped down four Motrin and a glass of water.

  She piled up the pillows and lay in bed with her Macbook in her lap. She searched for “Sal’s” and the address on the card. Hundreds of search results came up. There was an article in Forbes about it being the birthplace of twenty-first century technology. There was a retrospective in Esquire about its prominence in early eighties tech history, complete with loving reminiscences by Bill Gates, Steve Wozniak, and a few other uber rich tech people.

  There were more recent articles from Salon about it being the “sparse yet gilded meat market in Silicon Valley” and Rolling Stone about the club being the sexist home of misogynistic single men in the tech industry. The common thread underlying every article was the same, however: It may have been loved and hated, but it was nearly impossible to get into.

  Gin was certain she could handle asshole men, even if they were extremely wealthy. She made up her mind to go. After all, she had nothing to lose. At six PM on Monday she would go to the Billionaire’s Club and see what it was all about. If some rich guy acted like he owned her, she would just walk out. How hard would that be?

  chapter two

  Gin wasn’t stupid—dressing in at least a somewhat provocative manner made sense to fuel Phillip’s attention, but she didn’t want to come across as someone just selling sex. As a result, Monday afternoon became an exercise in conflicting goals.

  The trouble was that her body wasn’t one that allowed for a middle ground. She was what men called “busty petite.” Gin had an hourglass figure that looked great in form-fitting dresses and bathing suits, but in pants and blouses disguising her curves tended to make her look kind of frumpy. She loved showing off her body, but in a room full of alpha males she wasn’t too keen on them dismissing her out-of-hand simply due to her figure.

  As the clock inched past five o’clock, Gin gave up and decided on a sun dress. It wasn’t entirely appropriate for an evening, but she didn’t think she had any other choice. First world curvy hot bod problems, Gin thought, laughing at her predicament.

  Thanks to her bust she had to leave the dress unbuttoned at the top, which showed off her cleavage, while the lower half hugged her curves and ended a bit above the knee. Her long and wavy brown hair was loose and framed her face. She liked how she looked natural and pretty, so she put on a minimum of make-up. As she spun around in front of her full length mirror, Gin was pleased. She looked hot but not too hot. As long as none of them went all Zac Posen on her when they saw her dress she’d be okay.

  The outside of the club looked like a dump. There was an old red brick office building above, while the bar itself was through a beat up door and down some steps. It was hard to find at first, as the only indication it existed was a faded and shabby wooden sign that said “Sal’s” above a wooden door.

  Gin walked through the door and down similarly old wooden steps. At the bottom was a huge man in a suit. He was sitting on a stool reading David Copperfield. As he noticed Gin’s heels clicking on the steps, he put the book down and stood up. Standing about six foot five, he probably weighed close to three hundred pounds, all of which was muscle. As Gin approached, he held out a hand, palm out.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, this is a private club.”

  Gin fumbled in her purse and pulled out the card. “I was invited by Phillip,” she replied.

  The man nodded, took the card, and held it under a small lamp that stood on a podium type thing next to his stool. He tilted it back and forth under the light and then dropped it into a slot. “It’s an open bar, and the bartender is not allowed to accept tips,” the man said as he pushed open a door behind him. “Welcome to Sal’s.” The light in the room behind the door was dim.

  “What about my card?”

  “You’ll need another invitation to return.” Gin nodded. “One card. One visit,” the man added.

  “Got it. What’s your name by the way?” She held out her hand.

  The man looked surprised she was spending any attention on him. “Dave,” he replied, shaking Gin’s hand. His hand was massive and enveloped hers. His grip was strong but not painful. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “Thank you,” Gin replied, not entirely sure what Dave meant. She walked through the door and entered the fabled Billionaires Club.

  It was like walking into a movie set from a film set in the twenties. The room was all dark wood and soft lighting, with an enormous wooden bar that went the entire length of the left wall. There were high bar tables in the middle of the room and intimate booths against the other three walls. There was even cigar smoke twirling near a wall sconce in the far corner where an older man was smoking a cigar and talking to two other older men.

  The room was mostly empty. There were a couple men in booths wearing suits and typing on open laptops on the tables. A really beautiful woman in a bright red dress was talking to a man at least twice her age in one of the far booths. There was what looked like one of the employees in jeans and a white t-shirt sitting at the very end of the bar, while there were three younger guys sitting around one of the bar tables drinking and talking. They were wearing business casual outfits and seemed to be joking.

  As Gin’s eyes got used to the subdued lighting she realized that one of the men was Phillip. Time to see what kind of trouble I can get into, Gin thought. She walked over, projecting a smile.

  One of the men noticed Gin and elbowed Phillip. Phillip smiled wide and stood up. “You showed up!” He grabbed a chair from one of the empty tables and pulled it over. “Have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

  “Hi, Phillip.” She walked over and sat in the chair, crossing her legs at the ankle and placing her hands on the table. All three men were staring at her cleavage. “I figured it was worth my while to experience the famous Billionaires Club at least once.”

  “That’s a good philosophy. It’s always worth your while to experience us at least once.” It was the guy sitting to Phillip’s left. He was skinny and looked to be about eighteen. He smirked, while the other two laughed.

  Phillip must have noticed that Gin wasn’t laughing. “Don’t mind Scott. He thinks he can buy his way to a woman’s heart.”

  “Or at least into her pants,” said the man between Phillip and Scott, which made Scott laugh out loud.

  “Can’t argue with success.” Scott drained his glass and looked at Gin. “I’m getting a refill, do you want a drink oh nameless one?”

  “Oh, so sorry. I’m Gin, and I’ll have rum and Coke.”

  “Gin wants rum. Got it.”

  “I can’t believe I never did get your name,” Phillip said. He seemed more subdued in the atmosphere of the bar. “So it’s Gin. As in the drink?”

  “As in Virginia.”

  “Of course,” Phillip replied. “So tell me about yourself, Virginia.”

  “Please call me Gin.”

  Phillip held up his hands. “Sure. Sure. No problem. Just don’t want to be too informal as we just met.”

  “Well, you seemed plenty informal when you said you didn’t think I was wearing underwear at the Orion.”

  “See! I told you she doesn’t take shit. I love this girl,” Phillip said to the other man. He turned to Gin. “Okay, fair point. We’re all friends here, so you’re Gin from now on. So tell us about yourself.”

  “It might be polite to introduce me to your other buddy first.” Gin nodded toward the man next to Phillip. He looked to be in his early thirties and was dressed in jeans and a well-tailored white cotton shirt. He had brown hair that was thin and receding a bit.

  “That loser? You don’t need to know him. He’s not even a club member.”


  The man rolled his eyes. “I’m Glenn.” He held out his hand. “I’m supposedly Phillip’s mentor, but that’s not saying much.”

  “Yeah, Phillip’s a dick. You should probably just leave right now.” It was Steve, who had just returned. He slid Gin’s drink in front of her as he took his seat.

  “Come on, guys. Let the girl make up her own mind on my assholery. Or lack thereof.” Phillip had a smile on his face and looked like he was having fun being teased by his friends. Gin didn’t find him nearly as obnoxious as she did at the Orion. His self-effacing attitude mixed with his previous arrogance just made him that much more attractive in her mind.

  “I’m a paralegal. I went to some lame community college. I was born in San Diego and moved here because my uncle got me a job, and, well, that’s about it.” Gin shrugged and took a sip of her drink. It was really strong.

  “Got a boyfriend?”

  “Jesus, Steve. At least give Phillip a shot before you swoop in and try to steal his date.”

  “So this is a date?” Gin looked at Phillip and raised an eyebrow.

  “Sure. I asked you to join me here, and you came. Boom. First date.”

  “Kind of sad that you have to have two wingmen with you on your first date.” Gin smiled innocently and took another sip of her drink.

  “Okay guys, get the fuck out.” Phillip nodded toward the door. “You’re cramping my style.”

  Steve shook his head. “I just got a drink.”

  “Well move to a dark corner or something. I’m on a date.”

  “You’re on a fishing expedition, not a date,” Glenn said, as he and Steve stood up and grabbed their drinks. Gin was shocked that they didn’t even question Phillip’s demand for them to leave. Glenn held up his drink and looked at Gin. “Nice to meet you, Gin.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, Glenn.”