Chapter 79

Rita Looker's house was on the outskirts of a Las Vegas suburb. The entire group – with the exception of Leslie who had been there before – gasped at the size of the place. Rita lived in a three-story house with a long driveway behind a wrought-iron security fence. The house was relatively secluded, hidden behind a stone wall that encircled the property.

"Jesus, shaking your tits as a teenager must pay a hell of a lot more on the web than it does in person," Allie remarked. "Look at this place."

Leslie just laughed and she laughed again when Adam jumped as the gates opened without him pressing the intercom button.

"Security cameras," Leslie stated, gesturing to the top of the brick gate post. "Her family is a mite bit worried about some of the crazies. I think it's worse here than in L.A., to be honest. The Adult Video Awards were here last winter. That's where I met Rebecca for the first time. There must have been 10,000 people outside the convention center and every one of them was a little bit stranger than the next."

"OK, I know about relative property rates and all that," Shelly said. "But I can't imagine Las Vegas is any cheaper to live near than L.A. I also don't think for a moment that this was paid for by her web site. How in the hell does she afford to live here?"

Leslie simply shrugged.

"That is a question you'll have to ask her," she said. "She might want to keep the secret of her success a secret for a while longer. If she does, she'll simply tell you that. Rebecca is really nice. But she is plainspoken and she has some things she keeps close to her."

"A woman of intrigue," Adam said.

"All women have their secrets," Allie said. "I am not opposed to allowing Rebecca to keep hers. I am certain there are many people who wouldn't understand how we can afford some of the things we do."

"It's called debt, Allie," Adam said. "We afford those places because we are 20 years old and a million freaking dollars in debt. A million freaking dollars that we hope we can pay back one day but we're not certain."

There was a harshness to Adam's voice that caught Leslie off guard. He had been friendly to her and he treated everyone like she was a princess. But she could see he was troubled by the prospect of being unable to pay off what he owed.

"Adam doesn't believe in credit," Shelly said simply. "He has refused to get a credit card. Even I have a credit card but not Adam. He is a pay-as-you-go sort of guy."

"I'm not opposed to credit, Shelly," Adam corrected. "I simply believe a person should have a viable means of paying off a debt before he accrues one. I don't have the means to pay a credit card bill. I certain don't have the means to pay back one-eighth of a million dollars. I don't have the means to pay back one-one hundredth of a million dollars. None of us can with ease."

"Wait!" Leslie said as Adam pulled to a stop in front of the house. "You borrowed a million dollars? On what collateral?"

"No collateral," Adam said. "Someone invested a million dollars in our company on our word that we could pay it back."

"And on the anti-piracy software," Sarah said. "That is the thing you're forgetting."

Leslie's eyes widened further.

"Stop for a minute, please," she said. "We're here and I'm sure Rebecca is going to come running out of the house any minute. I hope we can continue this conversation later. But before we get out, I have to ask. Have you developed something to limit internet theft?"

Adam sighed but Shelly ventured forth.

"Yes!" she said proudly. "Well, we didn't but one of our group did."

"If it works, it is worth a million dollar investment," Leslie said turning to Adam.

"It works," he assured her. "But that doesn't mean we'll be able to patent it or that someone else doesn't have something better that he's holding back to drive up the price. There are a lot of questions and few answers. But, the short version is, yes, Subarctic Enterprises has submitted a patent application for software that will limit significantly the ability of people to share files across the internet. It has been tested and it works exactly as we think it should. It is not infallible but it is substantially better than anything marketed before."

"Son of a bitch," Leslie said, shaking her head slowly. "Son ... of ... a ... bitch. That is awesome. If that is the case, Adam, I wouldn't worry about any debt you've accrued so far. I think you'll be able to put a huge dent in the number just with the profits from the feature you're talking about. But for now, please put on your happy face. Rebecca is going to be nervous enough about playing hostess. I'm pretty much the only visitor she ever gets."

If Rebecca Stein was nervous, Adam couldn't tell. She greeted Leslie with a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek before introducing herself to the rest of the group. She was slightly more reserved than Leslie but it was evident she was happy to see everyone.

Adam immediately noticed the panache everyone spoke of. Rebecca was tall. But she didn't stoop and try to hide her height like he had seen so many girls do. She carried her head high and shoulders back. Her hair was bright red and hung straight down her back. Her neck was graceful and long coming out of a scoop-necked sleeveless sweater, just as her legs were graceful and long coming out a pair of cream-colored shorts. The area between her neck and legs was unremarkable, Adam thought. She was nicely proportioned. Her breasts weren't large and they weren't small. Her stomach was trim. Her rear looked well rounded but not overly padded.

It wasn't until she smiled at you that a person got the full effect of Rebecca Stein's beauty. She had a wonderfully expressive face, and when she smiled, Rebecca transformed from merely a pretty girl to an astonishingly beautiful one. And she seemed determined to have her cheeks break from the breadth of her happiness at having a large number of guests arrive at her home.

"Come in, come in," she gushed after she had shaken hands with everyone. "Welcome."

She ushered everyone inside her house and Adam couldn't help the word that slipped from his mouth when he crossed the threshold.

"Damn," he said softly as his eyes took in the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling of the entryway. A set of circular staircases wound upward from each side of the room. The walls were made of some ornate wood that Adam couldn't name and covered with paintings that looked as if they were done by the same person.

"Yeah, it has that affect," Rebecca said as she clasped Adam's arm to lead him farther in so the rest of the group could enter. The girls entered and immediately started to crane their heads around. "I figured Leslie would warn you."

"And ruin your fun?" Leslie giggled. "Not a prayer."

Rebecca's smile didn't waver for a moment as she shook her head.

"This place was an illegal bordello until a few years ago," she said.

"Illegal?" Allie asked. "I thought prostitution was legal in Las Vegas."

"Not in Las Vegas and not in Clark County," Rebecca said. "There is no statute against it in the state of Nevada but each county can decide on its own. Clark County has a statute against it. That doesn't stop it, of course. It's mostly up north now – Reno, for example. Down here there are a couple of counties that border Clark County that permit it. Anyway, for almost a hundred years, this place was allowed to stay in business. Then a new county administration came in and busted it."

"So Las Vegas allows gambling but prohibits prostitution?" Adam wondered idly. "I would guess that gambling has ruined more lives that sex has. I was led to believe that prostitutes were regulated and had to have a health card to work in Nevada."

"True – on both accounts," Rebecca said. "Of course there are unregulated hookers – particularly in Las Vegas and the counties that ban the practice. And gambling has ruined a hell of lot more lives than regulated prostitution has. At least that is my opinion. One based on the fact I've lived here my whole life – in Vegas, not in this house. My parents live in Henderson. I can tell you, for certain, that gambling has had a negative effect on my family."

"Mine, too," Sarah said. "I have an uncle who lost everything because he couldn't stop himself from betting. He wound up killing himself and leaving his wife with nothing – not even insurance money."

Rebecca nodded her head and seemed to reach a decision.

"You're probably wondering how I can afford to own a house like this?" she said. No one said anything and she broke out in laughter and gestured toward Leslie. "Oh, you warned them about that but you didn't warn them about what the inside looked like. Figures."

Leslie smiled and shrugged.

"Like Sarah, my uncle – my mom's brother – is a gambler," Rebecca continued with a sigh. "Unlike Sarah's, he won more than he lost. He managed that because he cheated."

"How?" Adam cut in. "I mean isn't most of the stuff pure chance?"

Rebecca didn't seem upset at the interruption.

"A lot of it is," she explained. "Roulette is pure chance. So is craps, really. Poker is chance because they shuffle the deck each hand. He made his money counting cards at Blackjack and, well, by fixing sporting events. They couldn't prove he was doing either but there was enough circumstantial evidence for the casinos to offer him a nice buyout if he would retire quietly. I got the impression the alternative was to have him killed. It was the card counting that cost the casinos.

"The sporting events were small scale. He didn't cause a team to lose the NCAA championship. He just conspired with a college coach down in Arizona to shave enough points to keep the spread down. The coach went down but he didn't implicate my uncle. It's something we don't really talk about at Christmas dinner, you know. Anyway, when I turned 18, my uncle gave me a choice: he would give me this house or he would give me $5 million for my birthday. I took the house."

"Damn, why don't I have uncles like that?" Karlie asked. "Mine offered me a thousand for a blowjob. Yours gives you a million because you're related."

Rebecca saw Karlie wasn't kidding and she frowned. Her face was just as expressive when her mouth turned downward as it was when it was turned upward.

"I'm sorry, Karlie, I truly am," she said.

"Oh, I didn't mean to make you feel bad," Karlie said quickly. "I was just saying. I'm sure I'll share my tale of woe with you before we leave. But it's much better now."

Rebecca's smile returned.

"I'm glad for you," she said. "But my uncle had an ulterior motive, too. He wasn't expecting physical favors – or at least he will be disappointed if he was. He needed things out of his name. He gave away much of his net worth a couple of years ago so the federal government didn't grab it. They put a lien against him for unpaid taxes last year. He is serving a 20-year hit in federal prison because he failed to pay income tax for about 30 years. You'll need to watch that in this business."

The entire group broke out in laughter, which caused Rebecca some confusion.

"You are preaching to the choir," Leslie remarked. "I warned them and I gather everyone else has, too. They have quite the set up, I'm learning. Get this..."

She lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"They plan to pay taxes on the whole amount," Leslie said, glancing around as if the room was bugged.

Rebecca's confusion was evident again.

"Why wouldn't they?" she asked. "Don't you? I sure do."

"We are in the severe minority," Leslie said with a laugh. "Most performers don't claim anything near what they actually made. Anything that can't be traced directly back to them is forgotten. If they are paid in cash, it is never claimed. They hem and haw and say the production company submitted the wrong paperwork."

"That's why you have so many serving time in federal prison," Adam said. "Allie showed me a list on the internet. It's rather expansive."

"Hey, not all those were tax evasion," Leslie said, again laughing. "Some were fraud convictions. Some were drug convictions. I think one or two were kidnapping convictions. Just because they are in a federal pen doesn't mean they skipped out income tax."

"Well, we don't plan to do any of those things," Shelly said. "So we'll pay taxes on everything we're supposed to. It's not like we won't be able to afford it. At least I hope we will be able to."

Again, general laughter filled the room. Rebecca led the group to a room off the entryway. It was a parlor filled with ornate furniture. Once again, Adam's eloquence couldn't be stopped.

"Damn," he said – again. "Is this all original?"

"Not original but it's authentic 19th century furnishings," Rebecca announced. "I didn't change anything on the first floor. This is exactly as the place looked when it was raided. It was one of those theme bordellos. It was set up as it might have looked during the late 1800s. The women wore the corsets and the low-necked dresses. The paintings out in the entryway were done by one of the girls. It served a very exclusive clientele. I'm talking Arab royalty and high rollers. The women were all top of the line in looks. They were mostly college girls supplementing their income by hooking. Someone tipped off the owner and there were no girls here when the raid came. There were no lists of names of the girls; no lists of clients. The girls who worked here were anonymous, you know.

"My uncle wound up with this place because, well, he was a client and he was an investor in this place. When the raid came, the only one here was the owner – a woman in her 70s by that point. Her attorney was here with her and the woman made sure the cops didn't destroy the house. She paid her way through law school by working here, from what my uncle told me. My uncle bought it off her to help with her legal fees – because almost all of her money was off-shore and she would have been in a lot of trouble if she tried to access it.