19
Oliver
The DJ played techno bangers at an ear-shattering volume. That was the saving grace of Cielo Club. There was no possibility for small talk. No need to fake conversations. All Oliver had to do was nod, fist-bump, and down shots of Don Julio.
Tonight, Kip was entertaining Paul McNickle – a current client of Martin Fishbein’s. Their night had started with steaks at Smith & Wollensky’s and a layover at an invitation-only speakeasy hidden behind a Laundromat. In the car over to Cielo Club, Kip and McNickle snorted lines of coke for a pick-me-up. ‘Get ready to go hard tonight, fellas,’ said McNickle. For him, that had meant turning into a slovenly, suburban teenager – untucking his shirt, swinging his hips wildly off the beat, and dancing with his finger in the air. Kip mimicked th
