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Eduardo heard a voice over the music and caught sight of Sean standing on the stairs up to the VIP section, excitedly waving at them. “Over here!”

It took almost five minutes to work their way to the bottom of the stairs, where they had to tell another headsetted bouncer their names. They joined Sean at one of the circular, leather-covered tables. He poured them shots of ridiculously expensive vodka and launched right into a story about the last time he was in this club with the founders of PayPal. He talked really fast, in his usual eccentric manner, and he was jittery — spilling his drink, tapping the floor with his little, bootlike shoes. Sean was always like that, Eduardo knew; his brain ran faster than everyone else’s.

While Sean talked, Eduardo noticed at the next table the hottest girls he’d ever seen. Four of them. Two blondes in black cocktail dresses, their bare legs so long they seemed almost alien, and two brunettes, both of indeterminate ethnic origin, one bulging out of a leather bustier, the other barely wearing a wispy summer dress that could easily have doubled for lingerie.

It took Eduardo a moment to realise that he recognised the girls. They were Victoria’s Secret lingerie models, right from the catalogue. Then he saw something that stunned him even more: one of the girls leant over and talked to Mark.

Eduardo stared in disbelief. She was leaning so far forward that her ample breasts were barely contained by her bustier. She was gorgeous, she was talking to Mark and she seemed to be really enjoying herself. For his part, Mark looked like a terrified animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. But what glorious headlights they were. He hardly spoke at all — but she didn’t seem to mind. She was smiling, and then she reached forward and touched Mark’s leg.

Eduardo gasped. The next thing he knew, Mark was suddenly getting up and she had him by the hand, leading him out of the VIP area and down the Lucite stairs. Had he really just watched Mark Zuckerberg — reticent, socially awkward Mark — go home with a Victoria’s Secret model? It was the clearest sign yet that Facebook was going to be the biggest thing in the world.

His visit to California only got crazier after that. They were being ferociously courted by all the major players in town. Offers were bandied about, numbers in the many millions whispered in their ears. The wining and dining was beyond excessive. They were ferried to the most expensive restaurants in San Francisco in their hosts’ limos and gleaming SUVs.

They weren’t going to sell Facebook, however. It was going to be worth a lot more in the future. Eduardo didn’t want to sell. Mark didn’t want to sell. Sean Parker — who cared what he wanted? He wasn’t a member of the management team. He was an adviser. He wasn’t involved. He was nobody.

At the end of his visit Eduardo returned to New York to resume his hunt for Facebook advertisers. He was on an emotional high, but when he rang Mark to report on good progress he had to listen to some story about another party Sean had taken them to, something involving a Stanford University sorority and a truckload of beer.

Then Mark took up his new refrain that Eduardo should move out to California permanently, because that’s where it was all happening. Eduardo tried to point out that New York was also important for things a start-up needed — from advertising dollars to banking contacts — but Mark didn’t want to listen.

To make matters worse, Sean jumped on the phone and started talking about two potential investors whom he was going to introduce to Mark. They were ready to put up real money — and if Mark liked them, and they liked Mark, it would happen pretty fast.

Eduardo nearly lost it right there. He was running the business side of Facebook. Any meetings with investors would have to include him. And why the hell was Parker setting up these sort of meetings? He was just a damn house guest.

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