The Show Goes On

Yachts, Cognac and Quaaludes

"Go party your fucking cocks off! We are about to become fucking legends on Wall Street! We got plans up here that're gonna take this company into the fucking STRATOSPHE-E-E-E-RE!"
Jordan screamed into the microphone, looking over the crowd before him. They all chanted for him. "WOLFIE! WOLFIE! WOLFIE! WOLFIE!"
That was him. He was the man they called The Wolf of Wall Street. And he was shouting encouragement to everyone at this party. On his yacht. He was one of the richest men New York. Sometimes he would look at himself in the mirror and remind himself of this.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I'm rich.
It was beautiful.
At some point when no one noticed, he left his post at the top sector of the boat and made his way to the inner office to congregate with his men. Chester Ming, Robbie, Otter, Rugrat and Donnie were his top men and all of them stood around in their Armani button downs and Ralph Lauren swim trunks. The air reeked of money. Jordan could smell it. Expensive scotch. Warm leather. Pungent cologne. As he walked in, their business session had just begun. They stopped playing pool and Donnie spilled a bag of Quaaludes all over the table. But they needed liquor first. And as luck would have it, at that very moment Brandi walked in carrying a tray with crystal glasses and two bottles of Cognac.
"Brandi!" The men shouted their greetings.
"Boys," she nodded. She set down the glasses and expertly poured their drinks. She knew their preferences by heart. On the rocks, a pinch of cinnamon, straight out of the bottle or mixed with horchata. Warm sunlight and the smell of the ocean poured in.
Brandi looked around her as the men swallowed the thick white pills on the table with slugs of hard liquor. Slicked back hair and smooth faces, doused with aftershave. It was strange to think that they hadn't always looked that way. She took a seat behind Jordan with a notepad, ready to take notes. At some point in the conversation, each men awaited the high that followed a few minutes of sleepiness. It was always Brandi's job to stay sober until they got high to stimulate conversation and make sure they didn't fall asleep.
"Jordan?" She whispered.
"Hm?" He looked at her.
"What are those pills you're taking?"
Jordan looked surprised. "Quaaludes, Brandi."
"I know, but I mean, what are they?"
Jordan considered this as the men looked at him expectantly, swallowing Cognac.
"Well, a 'lude is - wait." Jordan stood up.
"The Quaalude, or 'lude as it is commonly referred to, was first synthesized in 1951 by an Indian doctor - that's dots, not feathers -," he clarified, "as a sedative and was prescribed to stressed out housewives with sleep disorders."
He looked at the men and grinned. "But pretty soon, someone figured out if you resist the urge to sleep for just 15 minutes, you get a pretty kick-ass high from it."
She looked at him fascinated. She knew they were sleeping pills, she just didn't know much about them. Jordan and Donnie hadn't taken them yet.
"Could I try one?"
He looked at her, even more surprised.
"Huh, sure." He handed her one and gave her his glass of Cognac.
She looked nervous.
Jordan cut her off before she even started. "You'll be fine. You've driven just fine on a glass of scotch before and the high will wear off in an hour or two. And I won't fall asleep. Don't worry." He smiled.
"Okay," she said. And she swallowed two, handing the glass back to Jordan.
And as promised, 15 minutes later, Brandi moved past the drowsiness to this incredible, underwater process where ideas kept flying all around her head.
"Fuck, Jordan." She slurred. He started to laugh.
"Men - we need ideas. Think. That's what these little cocksuckers are here for."
Donnie stood up slowly and lunged on top of Jordan. He fell over the table and smashed a glass.
"Damn it, Donnie..."
"Women's shoes!!" He slurred.
Brandi felt like an idiot.
"My friendd from grade schoool! Steeve Madd'nn!" Jordan helped him sit on the table.
"Steeeevvv," Donnie repeated. "Steevv Madd'nn!"
Chester, Rugrat and Otter started laughing but Jordan tried to make sense of what Donnie was saying.
"Your friend from grade school, Steve Madden!" He shouted.
Donnie yanked off his shoe and slammed it on the table.
"WOMEN'S SHOES!"
Everyone burst out laughing except Donnie who was concentrating on the shoe. Jordan pinched the sides of Donnie's face and he kept babbling about Steve Madden and women's shoes. Brandi didn't like this high. She expertly cut up a line of cocaine and snorted it. She sobered up in record time. Jordan looked at her, impressed. "Good thinking, Brandi."
She nodded appreciatively and dabbed her nose. Suddenly, Otter let out this sound of amazement and everyone gathered to his side to see what happened.
A blonde, tanned woman in a turquoise dress and high heels had stepped into the lobby where the party was going on. She was one of the hottest women Jordan had ever seen in his life.
"I'd fuck that girl if she was my sister."
"I'd let her give me AIDS."
Jordan smirked at the men. "Who wants to see if the wolf can handle this?"
The men cheered Jordan on and he went downstairs to go introduce himself. Donnie stayed upstairs and gawked at her from the balcony.
"So... Fucking... Hot..."
Meanwhile downstairs in the lobby Jordan maneuvered around the douchebag she was with to talk to her. Hildy and Teresa were standing over by the pool, talking until Teresa noticed Jordan taking to the woman. Brandi walked by and heard her introduce herself as Naomi.
"Hey, Hildy, Teresa."
"Hi, Brandi," they smiled. But then Teresa looked at Naomi suspiciously from where she stood.
"Can you go get him, Hildy?" Teresa asked anxiously. Hildy understood and went over to Jordan. She said something to him and Brandi heard him answer in a low voice, "I'm having a conversation here, I'll talk to her when I'm done."
"Then you go tell her that, Jordan. I'm not your secretary. You're her husband."
Brandi cringed as she watch Naomi's smile falter slightly. Hildy argued with Jordan until she noticed Donnie behind her with his cock out, practically drooling at the sight of Naomi.
"Jordan, you gotta fuck her, bro, she's so hot." Brandi rushed over to see what happened and started to laugh along with Jordan, Naomi and his friends.
Hildy smacked Donnie and shoved him.
"DONNIE, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" She screamed.
Hildy grabbed him by the collar and yanked him out of the party.
"Well, shit, Hildy, at least let him finish," Otter cackled.
"Yeah, Hildy, have some fucking manners." Chester wiped away tears and tried to catch his breath. Brandi smiled and shook her head. The only thing that bothered her was that Jordan was still talking to Naomi. And not just because Teresa was watching them with wide eyes. But simply because Brandi already didn't like Naomi.
She went back upstairs and drank the rest of Jordan's glass of Cognac in thick slugs and smoked a cigarette in slow drags.