The Billionaire’s Fan (The Whispering Oaks Society)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Asher

The smell of leather and books will always be one of my favorites. It’s one of the many reasons that I find the Whispering Oaks Society so welcoming. Once a month, a handful of the members take part in a friendly poker game.

The Whispering Oaks Society is a prestigious club in the middle of the woods that people only know about from other members. The members range from doctors, and business owners to other public figures. It’s a gentlemen’s club under the veil of the canopy of the forest. This club is a much-needed sanctuary from the daily hustle and bustle of Empire Bay and many of the members’ busy lives. This is a haven where power and wealth converge.

The lounge is a room shrouded in dark mahogany wood with coffered ceilings and ambient light from the crystal chandelier overhead, books align half of the wall in front of me, with a bar along an entire wall on the other side of the room, behind where I’m sitting. Plush, deep purple velvet drapes frame the tall windows, their heavy folds creating an intimate atmosphere, shielding the room from prying eyes.

I relax on the chocolate brown leather chair with two fingers of whiskey in a glass, awaiting the poker room doors to open and grant us entry. Chad Augustus sits across from me, mirroring me.

“What’s new, Knight?” he asks.

My eyes meet his and I swirl the amber liquid in my glass.

“Just eager to take your money tonight.” I grin.

“Feeling lucky?”

“That’s so cliche. But I think my luck as of recently has improved, so why not take a gamble tonight and go home a winner?”

“I saw on TMZ that you’ve got yourself a new lady?” he inserts.

“You saw this on TMZ?” I ask, pulling my phone out of my pocket and texting my agent about why I wasn’t alerted to being a subject on the paparazzi show.

“Oh yeah. There was a whole thing back and forth between those paps about you now with this mystery lady and back to when you were dating some actress chick.”

“Can’t those guys just get a life and do something better with their time?” I roll my eyes.

“Brother, you’re preaching to the choir on that one. I’ve had my share of run-ins with those guys.”

Chad is an actor. And a good one at that. He’s also a notorious playboy and someone who always has someone following him around with a camera. He’s one of the few guys here at the club that understands the life that I live. While I may be in music and he in movies, we live a similar life.

“I met someone, and we’re spending some time together while I have a break from the tour.”

“Oh yeah? A groupie?”

“No. I mean, she’s a fan, but that’s not how we met. It’s kind of a funny story, actually.”

The doors to the poker room open, and a soft glow from the enormous fireplace in the room, the room a blend of classic sophistication and modern elements.

We stand and enter the room. In the center of the room stands a large, oval poker table, crafted from the finest wood, and inlaid with intricate patterns of gold. The green felt surface was smooth and inviting, the perfect stage for high-stakes games. Surrounding the table were ten leather high-back chairs, one for each of our regular opponents.

Dressed in a tailored suit, I sat down, my body humming with a mixture of confidence and amusement. This is my element. The other men in the room, taking their places around the table, a mix of titans from various industries - tech moguls, real estate magnates, public figures, media tycoons, and prominent business owners - equally at ease, the banter around the table light-hearted and jovial before we begin our first game.

Hours later, the chips in front of me have flourished as the games have progressed.

“So, Asher,” said Miller Davenport, the CEO of a tech company in the city with a twinkle in his eye, “looks like you’re on a winning streak tonight. Any tips for the rest of us mere mortals?”

I laugh, leaning back in my chair. “Just a bit of luck and knowing when to hold ‘em, Davenport. But I have to say, the company tonight makes it even more enjoyable.”

The men laughed, the camaraderie evident in the way we interacted. Glasses of the finest alcohol clicked together as we toasted to our night and shared stories as of late.

“Speaking of company,” interjected Wilhem, a real estate mogul with a reputation for being a shrewd negotiator. “I had an interesting meeting this morning. Seems there is a prime piece of land up for grabs on the coast. Perfect for a new project. Sounds like it would be up your alley for a new location for your club, Sinclair.”

The table buzzed with interest. A new club owned and managed by Winston Sinclair would be the talk of the town. Winston Sinclair opened a few extremely successful swingers’ clubs on the East Coast and is slowly bringing his brand to the West. Each man leaned in slightly as Wilhem and Atticus discussed the potential deal. “Count me in,” said Winston, known for his aggressive business tactics. “I’ve been looking for a new location. If it has a view, even better.”

As usual, our monthly game of poker was a meeting of the minds, a place where deals were brokered and alliances formed. I listened intently, occasionally chiming in to offer an outsider’s perspective.

“How are record sales for this quarter?” Winston Nickols, a brilliant artist, asks me.

“Since we just launched a new album earlier this year, we’re now mid-way through the tour. Sales are up. Merch is way up, and each show has been sold out. The last company meeting I had with my agent was positive. As amazing as that is for Knights Honor, you guys know that’s not why I do it all.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You have a love for performance. You do it for the fans. That’s even what Augustus says.” Atticus laughs.

“Is that so wrong?” Chad quips.

“What would you do if the fans stopped coming to your shows?” Atticus asks me.

“I would continue writing songs, maybe try to play a few small shows.” I shrug.

“Have you ever been to one of his shows?” Chad asks the group. Most of the men nodded their heads, as expected as I’ve provided many with tickets.

“Davenport,” Benjamin Reynolds, a renowned surgeon with a few medical breakthroughs under his belt, started changing the subject, “did you hear about the new AI startup in Silicon Valley? I hear they’re making waves with some innovative technology. May be worth taking a look at.”

A few of the men nodded, their interest piqued. “I’ve already got my people looking into it,” Miller replied, a sly smile playing on his lips. “They’re still in the beginning phases, nothing that I haven’t already toyed with at InterMind.”

As the night wore on, our game continued, punctuated by laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional exclamation of surprise or triumph. The room was filled with a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect, each man appreciating the unique skills and perspective the others brought to the table.

I glance around the table, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Spending time at the club was always a welcome distraction. Making a point to attend the monthly games it wasn’t just about the money, or the game itself; It was about the connections, the shared experiences, and the thrill of being among the world’s elite.

As much as I enjoy the distraction of coming to the club, there is another distraction that I have - a date with back in Fairhaven.