My Perfect Lady 30 Meet The Five!

d.a.m.n.

Jimmy stared foully at Hart, who only shrugged in response.

Then, his expression turned grave.

"Jimmy," he said seriously, "What was that anyway? What in the world were you doing?"

Jim almost turned red, but he didn't want Hartley to tease him endlessly, so he said nonchalantly, "Just what I said it was. Practice. I don't want father to be able to question us."

Hartley raised his brow at the word 'us'. He then grinned devilishly.

"I've known you for twenty years, mate. Don't use that stupid logic on me."

"It's not stupid. It's logical."

Hart rolled his eyes.

"You know, I have a shoot today, so we'll talk about it over dinner. Me and the group are throwing you a party in the evening. The usual place."

Hartley was an established actor, working for the media and entertainment company called "Gravestone Entertainment". It was owned by the Hunter Corporation, and Hartley Greene was the best investment they had ever made. He was excellent at what he did, he was handsome with easy-going manners, and the ladies loved him.

Jim nodded solemnly, not really wanting to go to a dinner party. But then, he couldn't refuse, for it was like a ritual that took place every year. He and a couple of his close friends got together and basically insulted each other to death the entire evening. Jim could well imagine what they would be bullying him about tonight.

Sighing, he took Hartley's leave and went back to his room.

Mr. Park was reluctant to let him work, but he still skimmed through a few files. The entire day was spent in answering birthday calls and other wishes sent through other media. Jim didn't care much for any congratulations, but he humbly answered a few important ones.

Time flew by, and his mind kept wandering back to his bride.

What was she doing? Could he go mess with her again? What were the odds that she would really hit him this time? And why the f*** was he so obsessed with her?

Shrugging, he took another bath, wore a casual suit and left his apartment keys with Mr. Park. He then gave instructions to drop Miya to his place for she obviously wouldn't be returning to her own apartment. She thought it had been raided by the police, and he wouldn't be telling her the truth. Also, he told Park to let her know that they would be meeting old Mr. Hunter the next day. Just in case she needed to be mentally prepared.

Mr. Park couldn't help but notice what a good boy Jim was being. Not to mention, he really cared about that little gangster girl.

He smiled. All of this, and in just one day of knowing the chick. This duo had a full year ahead of them!

He chuckled softly, at which Jim looked at him weirdly, and then left for his dinner party. He wanted to tell Miya, but then he thought it would make him look like a desperate creep, so he didn't.

The dinner party was to be held at Diamond Royale, a hotel owned by the Hunter Corporation itself. Because it happened every year, when Jim reached there, he was automatically given a heartfelt welcome, along with a single box wrapped neatly in a blue foil as his birthday gift. Ten years ago, the hotel owner had made the mistake of giving him a loud and boisterous present, along with lots of balloons and a cake. He had almost lost his job.

Jim went to the room prepared exclusively for him. His gang had already collected there.

When they saw him enter, a brown haired man called out loud, raising his cla.s.s of champagne, "Well, he's finally here. I drink this to our lady killer and pervert, Jimmy Hunter. He's finally 31, and still not mature enough."

With that, he gulped down the entire gla.s.s.

Jim had been ready for this.

"Well," he called out, in an equally loud voice, "The lady I killed and directed my perversion at, happens to be my wife, you a.s.s. And I'm mature enough to at least not start a party without its chief guest."

Hartley and two other men seated at the table laughed aloud.

"Welcome, Birthday Boy, Welcome," they all cheered.

Jim took a seat at the round table.

The five men at the table were all dressed in smart casuals. Garret, who was a stout man with a heavy build, had muscles that made him resemble a wrestler. It was hard to believe that he was an internationally acclaimed chef. Shekhar, who sat right next to him, was the smallest in the group, and had a typical nerdy look to him. He wore gla.s.ses, was lean, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. He was a scientist. Bolin, who had called out to greet Jim earlier, was a fantastic lawyer and worked for the Hunter group itself.

Next to him, sat the ladies' boy, Hartley. He was the only one who had dared to dress in an inviting blue s.h.i.+rt, amongst others who had chosen only black and grey. This group of five had been fast friends for over ten years now, and even though they met only five times each year (on each one's birthday), it somehow never effected their relations.h.i.+p.

As soon as Jim had taken his seat, gla.s.ses were prepared and filled simultaneously. It was going to be a drunken night, with lots of great food and exquisite alcohol.

"Stuff your faces, boys," Garret hollered, as he got up to open the door, "It didn't cost you a cent to have this great chef prepare these dishes for you, anyway."

"Nor did it cost you a cent when I advertised that stinking hotel of yours, Gar, using my beautiful face," Hartley retorted, gulping down his gla.s.s of wine.

"And it didn't cost you a cent when I got you out of that libel case last year, Hart," mocked Bolin, gobbling down his gla.s.s too.

"Neither did it cost you a f***ing cent, Bolin, when I had that ridiculously expensive necklace made, which you gifted to your cheating ex-girlfriend, by the way," Jim said with a half smirk. Bolin's expression turned sombre for a second, then he drank another gla.s.s.

"The b*tch," he spat.

Jim wolfed down his own gla.s.s as well.

The group burst into laughter.

A train of neatly dressed waiters entered the room, as Garret held open the door for them. They carried with them at least fifty dishes, that they placed neatly before the gentlemen. Then taking a bow, they left the room and Garret locked the door again.

Now, n.o.body would be disturbing them.

As Garret reached back to his seat, Bolin had come up with a reply for Jim.

"You know, B-day boy," he said, refilling his drink again, "You shouldn't hold that necklace against me. I really saved your sorry a.s.s when I drafted that f***ing contract between you and your old man. If it wasn't for me, old Hunter would have wiped the floor with your b.u.t.t."

Jim chuckled and raised his gla.s.s in acknowledgement.

It had been an ordeal, when Jim had discovered that old Mr. Hunter had been looking around for a competent lawyer to draft a contract that would lay down the rules for Jimmy's inheritance. That was six months ago. He didn't trust the Senior Legal Advisor of the Hunter Corporation, fearing that he'd be biased towards Jim. That was when Jim had begun planning.

He and Bolin had first met ten years ago, when Jim had gone overseas to attend an international seminar. They had liked each other almost immediately, and had remained pen friends since then. Bolin sometimes did visit Jim, and that was how he had been introduced to the other three members of the gang.

Jimmy had pulled some insane contacts, to let his father believe that Bolin was an awesome lawyer, competent to draft his ridiculous contract. Old Mr. Hunter couldn't find any relation between Jim and Bolin whatsoever, and had decided that Bolin was the right candidate for the job. That was how Jim's path had become clear.

Old Mr. Hunter had laid down an annoying total of twelve conditions that were the prerequisites to Jim inheriting the business. Bolin had made sure there were devious loopholes in all of them. Even with the last condition of Jim being married before turning 31, Bolin had drafted the condition in such terms that Jim's deadline to get married would have been extended to the actual time of his birth, and not midnight.

Only, Bolin didn't know that Jim was born at midnight.

As the group continued insulting each other, Shekhar sat in his corner and nervously adjusted his gla.s.ses. Then coughing to draw attention, he said, "Well. Since I owe none of you guys anything, I'll be the first one to start eating. You go ahead and settle your differences, boys."

Garret grinned mischievously.

"Hm, Shekhar," he began thoughtfully, "You're forgetting this. But you do owe Hartley for that blind date he set up for you."

All three looked at Shekhar, who had turned beet red now, and they burst out laughing.

"St-Stop!" Shekhar said weakly, "You…! I still can't believe this a.s.sh*le set me up with a hooker!"

Hartley remembered that night a year ago, and almost spilled his wine.

"Oh h.e.l.l. That sure was a fun night!" he laughed, "And don't you blame me, Shekhar. We all agreed it was high time you lost your virginity. You were thirty!"

Shekhar turned redder.

"I've told you guys, my s.e.x life is none of your concern! And I wasn't a virgin, you f***ing r.e.t.a.r.ds!"

Jim, who had been chuckling quietly till now, burst out laughing too. He still recalled that night like it was yesterday. Shekhar had clearly been uncomfortable with the girl, who had obviously been pa.s.sing hints at him throughout the dinner. The other four had been sitting at a nearby table, spying on the two. When the girl had moved over to Shekhar's side, and had tried to touch him, the poor guy had frozen. When her hand touched his private parts, he had jumped out of his seat, bowed relentlessly to the girl, thanked her for seeing him and then run for his life.

The group would never forget that day.

The laughter echoed through the entire room.

Shekhar angrily stuffed his face with some cooked cabbage, as he saw the other four have fun at his expense. His mischievous streak kicked in too and he targeted Jim.

"Eh, Jim boy," he said dangerously, "As fun as my one-year old date was, we all want to hear something new. Hart was just telling us you molested your new wife?"

Jim actually spilled over his beer.

"Mol-Moles –"

"Grabbed her, kissed her unwillingly. Molestation, yeah. s.e.xual hara.s.sment, Jim" Bolin said casually.

Jim wiped his face, choking on the drink and his own saliva now. He glared murderously at Hartley, who laughed hysterically.

"Don't look at me like that, man. You're the one who did it," he said.

Jim was ready to break his smug face.

The night had only just began.