21
Walking into the abandoned bowling alley that has been turned into a chic nightclub, I scan the main area. It’s all done in gold filigree and red satin, from the circular bar in the middle to the dance floor on the left and the stage on the right. The lights are low, but the place has a distinctly sexy vibe that I’m digging.
“How much is it?” I ask the nervous-looking real estate agent. She steps closer, adjusting her clingy beige dress and licking her blood-red lips.
When she speaks, her high-pitched voice annoys the f**k out of me. “It’s six hundred thousand. But there are a ton of rooms in the back that I can show you—”
“Just stop talking,” I say. My cell phone chirps in my pocket, and I reach for it. “I’ll take it. Go get the paperwork, because I’ll pay the offer in cash, right
