A Bet

Ethan pulled the Porsche to a smooth stop in front of Zack's club, the sleek vehicle gleaming under the afternoon sun.

The faint thrum of music could already be heard from inside, even though it was still early.

A few customers were trickling in — mostly regulars looking for a head start on the night. Zack unbuckled his seatbelt and stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"You know," Zack said, shooting Ethan a sly grin, "I might just drop by your place one of these days. Gotta make sure you're not turning into some soulless corporate robot with nothing but work and bikes in your life."

Ethan smirked. "What, worried I don't have a proper wine cellar for you to raid?"

"Not just wine," Zack said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he were personally offended.

"Whiskey, vodka, tequila — hell, even a well-stocked bar cart would be nice. What's the point of a mansion if you don't have house service and a bartender on standby?"