I often wake up wondering what my life would be like if I was born and raised under different circumstances.

 

But then I snap out of those shitty thoughts and back into my very glorious life.

 

Thinking about misfortune and being poor gives me diagnosable ajada. That's not to say that I don't have my own problems, though. For example, I'm currently being chewed out by my very own father. Having him lecture me is something I'm not a fan of, but I've made a habit of drowning out his cries of disappointment by dissociating and spending some time in my own head. Normally though, once he notices that I'm not paying attention to him, he shakes me out of it.

 

“GODDAMNIT, BEN", he shouts pounding his fist on his desk. “Will you get your head out of the clouds and actually pay attention to me for one second? Is that such an unreasonable request?”

 

I shake my head, “No, Dad. I was just taking in what you’re telling me-- digesting it fully”, I lie with a shit-eating grin.

 

But after years of lying straight to his face, he’s able to catch me in the middle of a fib. “Is that right? In that case, what is it you’ll be doing to remedy this?”

 

Crossing my arms, I make an attempt to reach the innermost depths of my brain to see if, by luck, I was able to absorb anything Dad was shouting at my face while I was lost in my thoughts. Unfortunately for me, all I can make out are muffled words coming out of my father’s wrinkled face.

 

“Alright, you got me”, I say throwing my hands up. “But I’m sure it’s got something about being late to the meeting.”

 

“MISSING the meeting, Ben”, he corrects me.

 

“I missed the meeting because I was late, so I’m not wrong.”

 

“And you were late because you’re hungover after a night with some hooker straight off The Strip”, he shouts.

 

I shoot up from the chair I’ve been sinking in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hookers? Come on, Pops, you should know me better than that. I don’t need to resort to that. It was just some broad who-- yes, I did find on The Strip, a block or two from Caesar’s Palace, but you know what? She was horny, she was hot, aaaand she didn’t ask me to pay her when I woke up.”

 

My father takes a seat on his throne-like leather armchair and stares at me with his angry little eyes. “Christ, Ben. I can’t do this anymore. Do you know how long I have left to restructure this company before I retire?”

 

He sighs and mutters something disappointedly when I cluelessly shake my head.

 

“I’ve only mentioned it every time we’ve seen each other in the past year, why would you know? I should know that your revolving door of Vegas whores aren’t actual fuck-for-pay prostitutes but you shouldn’t be bothered to remember that--”, he stops mid-sentence and takes a deep breath. “...Six months, Ben.”

 

In what I’d call an admirable attempt to comfort him, I move my chair next to his and pat him on the back. “Dad, in six months, I’ll be running this company like a well-oiled machine, you don’t have to worry about it.”

 

“You won’t be running anything but your mouth in six months. You may not even be part of this company, unless your brother pities you enough.”

 

Upon hearing these news, I shoot out of my chair and stand in front of him. “RICKY? Dad, you want a guy who could barely run a computer properly to run your company? Ricky’s got bricks for brains, how in the hell is he more equipped to run the company you built up with your own two hands? So I’m late a couple of times a week, at least I know how to schmooze with business partners, and actually have a semblance of knowledge of what we actually do here. You get Ricky for this job and he’ll shit the bed, and possibly his pants at the first minor obstacle.”

 

Dad looks away from me, probably because he knows I’m right and doesn’t want to admit it. He just wants his power move to make me feel like I’m expendable.

 

“So then, what is it you want me to do? Make it to meetings on time? Done.”

 

“I shouldn’t have to ask you to make it to meetings on time. And that’s not the only reason I won’t be leaving the company to you”, he confesses. “You have no direction in life, Ben. And that’s the only thing that’s keeping you from being CEO once these six months are over.”

 

I’m once more taken aback. “What the hell do you mean? I have upwards direction. I’ve been working at your side for years now in hopes that I’d get to be CEO. How is that not having any direction”, I snap back at him.

 

Calmly, he tells me exactly what he means. “Let’s say I allow you to take on the mantle of CEO. What are you going to do then? Spend the money you’re making to do the same nonsense you’re wasting your life with now? Gambling, extravagant dates for gold-digging one night stands, whatever new car comes out? Would I be right with this assumption?”

 

Unable to grasp at the point he’s getting at, I ask for some clearer instructions.

 

“Do something with your life, Ben”, he hopelessly begs. “Find someone to spend your life with, to ENJOY your life with. You’re having all this meaningless sex, not making any meaningful connections with anyone. It’s been years since you’ve even mentioned having a friend. It’s always ‘this guy I know from this hotel’ or ‘some guy you just met’ that you’re hanging out with. As your father, hearing you spend your days like this makes me… sad. Endlessly sad.”

 

“You’re not going to start crying, are ya, Pops”, I joke.

 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor and turns away from me after asking me to get the fuck out of his office. As I open the door and hop out, he calls out my name again.

 

“Look, if you want me to believe you’re responsible enough to run this company, start by getting the Okatas on the phone, and making sure that your tardiness didn’t ruin our chances of partnering up with them”, he growls.

 

“Partnering”, I scoff. “Isn’t the plan to absorb the Okata Oil?”

 

“If you phrase it like that to them, do not even bother, Ben. For God’s sake. Just get out.”

 

If there’s one thing I’ve gathered from that interaction it’s that I need to find someone to bang and show off for the next six months. I’ve never been the kind of person to be in a relationship, one time bangs are more my speed, and in my experience, living this life has yielded better results than someone, like Ricky for example, who was in a five year relationship and was cheated on. Even my father ended up getting divorced so I really can’t make heads or tails of his strange desire for me to be in a relationship. I figure he’s getting long in the tooth and might be hitting the age where he may be wanting to see some grandchildren, and since Ricky ruined those chances, I suppose he must think that I’m his last resort.

 

I can’t read minds, but something tells me that choosing Rickie to be the CEO once he retires is just a bluff. He could easily pass the mantle to someone in his current board of directors that are much more qualified. Ricky is just an empty threat.

 

But if Dad wants to give me the runaround, I’ll play along. If there’s one place a person could easily find a woman help them out in exchange for money, it’s Las Vegas. I just have to head down to The Strip and find someone I can tolerate for six or so months. I’ll wave some money around and whoever is hottest and least annoying will be my girlfriend, by name only. In reality, she’ll just be a glorified fuckbuddy, but in the end, isn’t that what a girlfriend is anyway?

 

That’s what every single one of my so-called girlfriends has been. As my father said, my “love” life has consisted of a revolving door of Vegas whores. Some of them have been reasonable and understanding and are perfectly content with just one night stands, but others have voiced their desire to meet my family or move in with me, and that’s a downright no-no in my book. I don’t even save their numbers for possible future booty calls. They get tossed to the wayside quicker than anyone. At least, if they keep their wants for a relationship to themselves, they’re given the opportunity to be treated to more dates followed by dickings.

 

To my recollection, my dad hasn’t met a single woman I’ve ever been with, so the best way to go about tricking him would be by either finding a new woman or whoever it is I’ve had the most dates or sex sessions with.

 

There’s nothing particularly difficult about the task at hand. I’m 6’2”, I’m in the best shape of my life, and I have more than enough money to attract some Vegas bimbos. Not to mention that once they see me naked, I’m fairly certain that they won’t be able to resist me regardless of how powerful their self-control normally is. I’m not one to brag, but I have been complimented by many of my partners, who have said that I should be working in the adult film industry. Quite frankly, I can’t say that I disagree. Everytime I unzip my pants, my cock is met with gazes of amazement and wonder. There was even a time when two of the women I was bedding at once almost fought over who’d get to wraps their lips around my penis first.

 

I’ll spend all day shooting messages at some of my favorite lays and figure out whose presence I can tolerate the most, while I bar-hop and meet new potential contenders for the role of the future Mrs. Ben Copley.

 

But before I can get started on any of that, I have to get one Itsuki Okata to get on board with giving up his business without knowing he’s giving it up to the son of someone who is basically an oil baron villain from an old cartoon western.