Roomies in Arms - Part 21

Everyone in this story is 18+

Asher glanced around the flat, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle on his already pristine jumper. “Should we have booked a meeting room at a hotel instead? This place is kind of… dilapidated.”

I sighed and folded my arms. “Yes, well. At least it’s clean.”

I glanced at Lex. “Well. Clean-ish.”

He was on the couch with one sock half-off, on his laptop with the unnerving focus of someone defusing a bomb or installing malware, maybe both.

Then, the knock came.

I opened the door — and there Hunter stood, in all his golden, designer-clad, slightly terrifying glory.

Oversized Versace sunglasses. An offensively white smile. Gleaming high-tops with Louis Vuitton monogram laces. Van Cleef bracelets around both ankles, clinking softly as he shifted. His hoodie — some gold couture monstrosity — was so overloaded with embroidered tigers it looked like a jungle had thrown up on him. His shorts, also designer, ended several inches above the knee and appeared tailored for someone with neither shame nor circulation.

“Seb!” Hunter beamed, arms spread like we were about to film a reunion episode. “Still devastatingly British, I see.”

I blinked. “Hunter. You look… prosperous.”

He looked exactly how I remembered — no, worse. Like money had gained sentience and developed a sense of irony.

Behind him stood someone I hadn’t expected.

Tall and Muscular. Wearing a too-tight navy blazer over athleisure joggers, holding a chrome briefcase in one hand and sipping something thick and green from a glass bottle in the other.

I closed the door behind them, already feeling Lex’s curiosity radiating from the couch.

“I thought you were coming alone,” I said, quietly.

“Oh, yeah — this is Brock,” Hunter replied, waving a hand like he was introducing a minor character at a party. “My… law person. Paralegal or something.”

“Associate,” Brock said smoothly, not missing a beat. “And lawyer. Not a paralegal. Fully certified. Passed the bar.”

He said it all in one breath, like someone who’d had to correct Hunter often.

Hunter shrugged. “Close enough.”

“I suppose introductions are in order,” I said, stepping aside. “Hunter, Brock — this is Lex, our tech lead, and Asher, who’s handling the finances.”

From the couch, Lex gave a nod. Asher raised a polite hand in greeting.

“Cozy place, huh?” Hunter said brightly, turning a slow circle as if inspecting a pop-up gallery. “Very Berlin. Dilapidated chic. But also… clean.”

He looked at me with a grin. “You always did love to clean. Remember that time you ironed your socks?”

I sighed. “It was Parents’ Weekend.”

“He still does that,” Lex added dryly. “His. Ours. The roommates’. He schedules lint-roller rotations.”

Hunter looked delighted. “God, that’s quaint. I love it. Roommates, the whole messy flat-share thing. The college experience. How very human of you.”

Lex tilted his head. “So… you didn’t even graduate?”

Hunter pulled off his Versace sunglasses with a single, over-rehearsed flourish, revealing eyes that managed to look both playful and expensive.

“And what about you, bro? Still in school — not even Ivy, not even Stanford.” He grinned. “Trust me. Being a Stanford dropout is the only missing ingredient you guys need.”

Brock cleared his throat mid-sip. “Also, just for the record, you didn’t technically drop out. You got expelled.”

Hunter waved a hand. “Semantics.”

Brock deadpanned, “You bribed a professor with NFTs.”

“Allegedly, but yes, I also fucked the professor.” Hunter said cheerfully. “Anyway — college is overrated. You could literally buy a law degree. Like Brock’s. Just kidding. Mostly. He earned his. Probably.”

Brock didn’t look up. “I did pass the bar. Again.”

“I hired you, didn’t I?” Hunter shot back.

“You did,” Brock said. “Because your dad made you.”

Asher, who’d been quietly observing this descent into absurdity, finally spoke. “So you’re the one who might help fund Astra.”

Hunter turned toward him and grinned wider. “That accent’s criminal. You single?”

Asher blinked. “I—pardon?”

Hunter winked. “We’ll circle back to that.” Rolled his eyes. “Alright. What do Sam Altman, Sundar Pichai, Sergey Brin, and Elon Musk all have in common?”

“No morals?” Lex scoffed.

“Also true,” Hunter said. “But more importantly — they all dropped out of Stanford.”

I looked to Lex. Lex looked to me. Lex muttered, “We’re so screwed.”

◆◆◆

We had barely been sitting on the couch for an hour, showing Hunter and Brock our progress, when Hunter started pacing like he already owned the place.

“Alright,” he said, clapping once. “Let’s lay it out.”

He turned, eyes sharp now — like the sunglasses had been suppressing actual brain activity. “You need capital. You’ve got some from Seb if we get Daddy to sign off. Potential from Seb’s dad. I’ll match that. Then we bring in a startup-friendly lender to round it off.”

“A bank loan?” I asked, still slightly behind the tempo of this conversation. “I use HSBC.”

Hunter winced, like I’d offered to pay in traveler’s cheques. “Cute. But I was thinking something like Silicon Valley Bank, maybe Revolut’s venture arm. HSBC’s too old-money. No one disrupts anything in a mahogany boardroom.”

“Right. Yes. I suppose,” I muttered.

Lex leaned forward, suddenly engaged. “And I’ve got crypto. Some. If I can find the damn key.”

Hunter didn’t miss a beat. “Great. That’s what, another ten grand?”

Lex blinked. “Well—maybe closer to a single grand...”

Hunter raised a brow, impressed. “Okay, wow... Nice. I guess”

He turned to Brock. “I can wire a mil by the end of the week. That gets us through founding, paperwork, first marketing pass. Brock, can you fast-track the legal side?”

Brock nodded, already scribbling. “Yes. We can file articles, register the IP, and structure the ownership agreements within a few days.”

Hunter clapped his hands again, more to himself than anyone else. “Good. That’s enough to make Seb’s dad take us seriously. I know he’s old-school about capital risk, but he usually has an eye for deals with teeth.”

I swallowed. “Yes. That was… that’s what I was hoping.”

Hunter paced a few more steps, then snapped his fingers. “We’ll need a polished business plan. Take these”—he gestured at the chaotic pile of Lex’s sketches, half of which included lewd anime faces—“and turn them into something that won’t make an analyst cry.”

“They’re not that bad,” Lex mumbled.

“I mean,” Hunter said, holding up one with a dragon holding a QR code between its claws, “this is kinda genius. But the hentai corner doodles might throw off the old guard.”

He paused, flipped the page, and grinned. “Also? Big same. I was subscribed to Brotherly Oath: Forbidden Tactics too. R.I.P. to a real one. Fucking shame it got pulled.”

Lex grinned despite himself. “You watched that?”

“Bro, the character design alone deserved a Hugo.”

Hunter tossed the paper down and looked back at us, serious again. “I’m thinking I could come in as CEO, at least in the beginning.”

That gave me pause. “I… I mean, I don’t really think I’m competent enough anyway.”

“Seb should be CEO,” Lex said, quicker than I expected. “It’s our idea. I get that I’m not exactly boardroom material, but look at him.”

He gestured toward me, like I was angelic. “He’s… neat. People like neat. And he actually gives a shit.”

Hunter watched me for a moment — not judging, just considering.

“We can pin that,” he said. “Sort it later. Doesn’t have to be today.”

I exhaled. Sort of grateful. Sort of not.

“Anyway,” Hunter continued, “me and Brock are renting a couple of suites in the city this week. We could jet down to New York, talk to your dad, get the greenlight?”

I froze. “Oh—no. He’s in London.”

Hunter snapped his fingers. “Right. He bought that fucking ambassadorship.”

I winced. “Technically yes.”

“Peak American politics, love it!” Hunter said cheerfully. “But whatever. Jet to London, then. I’ve got a sick place in Belgravia we can stay at.”

Brock looked up without missing a beat. “Your father has a—”

Hunter cut in. “Same thing. So—are you guys in?”

The room went quiet. Not tense — just heavy. Like we were standing on the edge of something that wasn’t theoretical anymore.

I looked at Lex. He looked at me.

Then I nodded.

“Yeah,” I said. “We’re in.”

“Great, NDA time—let’s get this circus rolling," Hunter said, chipper as ever, while Brock snapped open his chrome briefcase and started handing out forms.

This was either a stroke of genius or a spectacular disaster. Possibly both.