Sex, Lies and the Dirty (28 page)

I think she looks smart. I imagine us sitting around debating the modern implications of Sun Tzu’s teachings in “The Art of War,” except replace the first part of this sentence with “tickle fighting while listening to Kelli Clarkson” and you get a gist of the message I’m trying to convey.

Unfortunately, such dreams will never happen because we will never be able to date. The Arizona legislature recently passed a bill that forbids me and this young lady from being an item because we’re too good-looking. The debate surrounding this bill was very heated because our classic good looks are polarizing, but I understand their line of thinking. If we were to be seen together, our level of attractiveness would be a combined 142–and that’s on a scale of 1-to-5. There is a distinct possibility that persons in the general public would keel over and die from being inundated with such a high level of concentrated beauty. So, for the good of the public health, it is probably better if this lovely lady and I stay apart. I think we both deserve some sort of medal.

Latro,

Brock

We were like Batman and Robin.

Office drones by day, bloggers at night.

Nik Richie continued to produce snappy one-liners and Brock Landers came out with a new article every couple of weeks that usually got the comment boards in a frenzy. We had always been those guys at the clubs who enjoyed the people-watching aspect, but now it had a purpose. If we saw a chick with stripper streaks
⁶³
or a guy all tatted up, chances were Brock Landers was formulating another article. Another breakdown of the Scottsdale scene. We weren’t just hanging out anymore as drinking buddies. We were casing the place, gathering material. There was something about having Ben in on the joke that made it all the more funny to me.

Being outed was still an issue, but I thought it was cool that people were on a wild goose chase to find out our identities. Every time we waited in line at the club to get in or at the bar to get a drink, the names Nik Richie or Brock Landers were rolling off someone’s tongue.
Dirty Scottsdale
was on everybody’s mind, even if they didn’t say it. We were the reason people waved away photographers and declined bottle service. If I said people were fake-tanning too much, the next weekend all the girls in the club were pale. If a post went up saying Ed Hardy or Burberry sucked, everyone would stop wearing it.

We were cleaning up Scottsdale, Ben and I, and we were doing nothing more than giving our honest opinions. The site was popular, so much so that the mainstream news stations were doing stories about us. That’s when Ben said he couldn’t do it anymore.

“It’s getting too big,” he told me. “I’ll never out you, but I’ve got to distance myself from this and focus on my career.”

I didn’t like it, but I understood. He had explained to me more than once how if anyone found out it about Brock Landers it could kill his family’s political name, so I didn’t fight him on it. Nik Richie continued on, and Ben Quayle broke ties with both him and Hooman Karamian.

It would be the first of many occasions I’d lose a friend over the site.

Ben’s secret, however, would not stay hidden for long.

It’d come out at the worst possible time.

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Reality series starring Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton that aired from Dec. 2003 through Aug. 2007. The first three seasons aired on the Fox network with the final two airing on E!

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A combination of “tool” and “retard.”

63
Multi-colored hair extensions typically worn by strippers.

Ben Quayle

Ben Quayle is running for Congress in Arizona,
and he’s pretty much an automatic shoe-in because of his name, but I don’t really take an interest until
Politico
reaches out to me. They call me up wanting dirt, saying, “There’s speculation that you and Mr. Quayle used to go out together a lot.”

It’s the “guilty by association” angle. Take a seemingly stand-up guy, pair him up with someone like a Nik Richie who is viewed unfavorably by the mainstream media, and the first person is no longer as likeable. I can see from a mile away that they’re trying to make Ben look bad by his former association with me, but I’m not going to lie. So I tell the reporter that it’s true.

“Ben and I were friends,” I say.

“
Were
friends? You mean you’re not friends anymore?”

“We were drinking buddies, but I haven’t talked to him since we started
Dirty Scottsdale
together.”

The reporter asks, “What do you mean you started it together? You’re saying Ben Quayle was a part of that website?”

“Yeah, he used to go by Brock Landers.”

“We heard that he drank and did drugs,” the reporter says.

“To my knowledge, he never did drugs,” I say. “Not that I’ve seen.”

“Mr. Richie, I’m going to check a few things and give you a call back.”

I wasn’t trying to out Ben. I didn’t think I was providing any new information about his past, but the next thing I know the media was all over it.

It’s everywhere:
Politico,
Associated Press
, Vanity Fair.

Every major news outlet is talking about how Ben Quayle used to write
for
Dirty Scottsdale
, linking all of his articles and quoting him, saying he has no moral compass. The media is bum-rushing him, and his political opponents are using Brock Landers against Ben in their commercials and interviews. They paint him as this depraved individual who’s not ready for office, and for every time Ben tries to do damage control, the media tosses another Brock Landers quote in his face.

In true political fashion, Ben lies about the issue, telling people that he was never Brock Landers and had no affiliation with the site. He pretends like I never existed and I can’t help but wonder why he would lie since he’s going to win anyway.

Just own up to it
, I’m thinking.
Just be honest.

All Ben has to do is say that he did it for a while, but when it got too hot, he backed out to focus on his political career. We were kids. It was only for a little while. People will understand. Ben keeps denying it, though. So the media gets into an even bigger frenzy because they’ve got a politician caught in a lie, not to mention me calling him out on the site.

I post:

Wow, if he is denying that he is Brock or any association then he better be ready for a sh*t storm. Ben this better not be true. I was just trying to help you get votes by outing you…there is no need to lie to the American people. I miss those days three years ago in my kitchen hanging out hungover thinking about what club douche bags in Scottsdale to target next. —nik

Traffic goes up.

Ben changes his story.

It goes from him having nothing to do with the site to him admitting to the media he posted a few comments here and there to boost traffic (which is still a lie, just a different one). He maintains that he was never Brock Landers, and he plays dumb regarding me coming to him for legal advice at Snell & Wilmer. Ben says he had no hand in helping me incorporate the company. He does what all
Dirty
politicians do: deny and lie. Ben bullshits the media and I keep calling him out on it.

Vanity Fair
quotes me saying:
“I am not attacking you, I am just being honest. Stop listening to your bullsh*t advisors because they are making you look stupid. If you don’t remember me or Brock Landers that is cool. I guess I don’t remember the time you banged [redacted] (a chick) in my spare bedroom. I just let randoms spend the night and have sex with strangers…should I continue?”

I reiterate my side of the story, the truth. I explain that I even made him an e-mail
⁶⁴
where chicks would send him dirty pictures all day. Half of me is waiting for Ben to fess up, the other half is expecting another lie to come out of his mouth. The more he and I jab back and forth at each other, the more the media feeds on it. They find the worst image they can off the site—typically a naked chick, legs spread wide and covered with hearts, and say, “This is what Ben Quayle was a part of.”

It’s a complete shitstorm, a couple of guys publicly fighting that used to be best friends. We used to be the Batman and Robin of Scottsdale, but politics had clearly changed Ben for the worst. He was one of them now, and as much as I used to get along with the guy, the situation proved that I didn’t know him anymore.

Ben ends up winning the election.

Despite the Brock Landers clusterfuck, he manages to pull it off. Even though he lied to the media and snubbed me, I still posted on the site that any registered voters in Arizona should vote for Brock Landers. I did my part in pushing the polls back his way, and I figured that’s the least I could do for an old friend.

After Ben resigned from
Dirty Scottsdale
, there were a few times that I had run into him out and about at the clubs. He was still up to his usual shit: drinking, having a good time, chasing girls. We’d talk about the site and he was happy to see how big it had gotten. It was easy to slip back into old conversations: who’s the hottest chick in Scottsdale and the current tool-tards of the scene. That’s the Ben I miss talking to.

So I decide to give it one more try and give Ben a call, not really knowing what to say beyond “congratulations.” His voicemail kicks on and I leave a generic message wishing him well on everything. It’s probably one of hundreds he’s gotten, and I have no expectations of him actually calling me back. Too much has changed. The both of us, we’re too different now. He’s no longer the guy I met in Lake Tahoe that chased chicks with me, and I’ve all but killed off Hooman Karamian. Ben’s the politician. I’m Nik Richie. Public perception won’t allow two guys like that to have a friendship without it causing a bunch of drama.

Sometimes to move up in the world, you have to sacrifice your friends.

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[email protected]

$11M

During the whole Ben Quayle drama I find out I lost $11,000,000.

Associated Press puts it out on the wire that Sarah Jones got awarded a default judgment when I didn’t show up to court. The problem is that I don’t know Sarah Jones. I don’t know her lawyer, Eric Deters, either. Both the names are new to me, and I don’t even recall getting served papers about this. When someone is suing you, usually you get papers about it, and that didn’t happen.

The story about how this Bengals cheerleader went up on
The Dirty
are only vaguely familiar. The first one alleges she hooked up with the placekicker. There’s another one saying that her husband cheated on her and she’s got STDs. I don’t deny something went up. The first thing I do after reading the AP report is check that there is, indeed, a post about Sarah Jones. And there is. Two of them. That much I can confirm. The rest of this shit: the lawsuit, the $11M payout, this Eric Deters fucker celebrating a win over me—it’s coming out of nowhere. Meanwhile, everyone’s calling me about it. My friends are all getting hold of me to see if I really just lost $11M. ABC and NBC both want to get my reaction on losing that much money. At this point, I’m not even sure if I did or didn’t. In my mind, Associated Press are the journalists of the journalists. Maybe they know something I don’t.