The Philanthropist

Benji

“Well, I—”

Harley laughed. “You don’t need to explain yourself. There’s nothing wrong with it. I think my girl might fancy you too, philanthropist.”

“I’m not a philanthropist.”

“You’re the closest thing to one I’ve ever met,” she said simply.

I looked around at the others, desperate for salvation from this conversation. “So. How long have you guys been here?”

Harley’s eyes lingered on me for a while but she let the subject shift. Mason answered my question, thank God, and steered the discussion toward more comfortable subjects. “About twenty minutes or so. When we showed up the doors were closed and the whole front lobby was packed.”

“It’s still filling up by the minute,” Laina said, nodding toward the door.

She was right. The whole place would soon be packed to the brim and the doors would have to be closed. Talk about a successful business. Well done, Charlie.

It was while I was watching people continue to file in and go to the bars to redeem their drink tickets that the house