But Jack? Oh, Jack was the appetizer. The dry-run. The training dummy. Kid was practically begging for a lesson in consequences.
Then there was Janet. Sweet Janet, practically eyeing my estate like it was Noah's Ark and she was the last panda. Victoria, Anya, Ortega? Same energy. They'd all come. Of course, they would.
Move in? Try and stop them. The place would turn from a sleek mansion into a liberated-harem-war-estate hybrid before the first mortgage payment cleared. Fine. More targets for… enlightenment. More bodies to shield from the soul-crushing mundanity they thought was life.
Chaos loves an audience.
Next up was Meridian-fucking-Agency and the Wellness Center. Yeah, I will the whispers.
"Gigolo."
"Male escort."