I’ve partied with many of the young women in the crowd. Fucked them. Had threesomes with a handful of them. But there’s always a fresh crop of them—ones who are finally old enough to warrant their own invitations. Ones whose families just made enough money to join this elite sphere. Nouveau riche, my aunt would say with a sniff of her large nose. Ones who’ve gotten back from some commune in Amsterdam or college in Switzerland.

I could hunt, as Leo Morelli put it, and take home delicious prey.

A woman presses herself against me. I turn to see a bubbly, blonde Patricia beaming up at me. “Finn! I’ve missed you.” She throws her arms around me, pressing her breasts against my tux, encompassing me in a cloud of Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium. “Where have you been?”

“Working,” I say, which is ironically the truth.

Connor laughs, because he’s never worked a day in his life. He’s on again, off again with Patricia. Judging from the way he drapes an arm over her bare shoulders, they’re currently on. “We just got back from Vail. Everyone was there. Where the fuck were you?”

A stern-looking matron turns to give us a dirty look for bad language. I wink at her, and she turns back, her cheeks slightly pinker.

“Chamonix Mont Blanc has the better runs,” I say, because they’ll assume I was skiing and getting wasted and fucking my way through the resorts there.

“Yeah,” he says, laughing his frat boy laugh. Did he practice it in the mirror or did it just come naturally to him? “A Hughes can probably reserve the black diamond runs all to himself.”

Patricia takes my hand and tugs me closer. Too close. “Are you coming to the after party? A friend has the hook up at this new club. G-Eazy’s supposed to be there.”

“Does anyone still care about him after Halsey broke up with him?”

A giggle. She pulls me closer. It would be awkward in front of any other boyfriend. Considering how often Connor’s cheated on her, it’s merely exasperating. “And then after we could get high. Connor booked us a suite. Some of us are going to hang out.”

I’ve been to my share of after parties. Someone’s always got the hook up at a club, especially when we can slip them a fold of hundred dollar bills. From the look in Patricia’s eyes, she wants to get up close and personal tonight. I’ve fucked her. And, separately, I’ve fucked Connor. Don’t judge. Repressed frat boys can be a great ride. Maybe if I fucked them together?

When you’ve done everything, it’s hard to find something new.

It doesn’t matter how beautiful they are, or how talented their mouths. I don’t want the people standing in front of me. I’m not even sure I want sex.