... stays in Vegas? This weekend, when the NBA All-Star Game comes to town, Kings owners Joe and Gavin Maloof will be everywhere, for all to see

	Joe (in blue shirt) and the younger Gavin (in white) seldom lack for company in their home away from home, Las Vegas. John W. McDonough/SI

By Ian Thomsen

The expansive swimming pool out back of the Palms hotel and casino in Las Vegas is as curved and shallow as the young women who are layered around its edges on a warm Saturday in October. One by one they swivel their heads and sit up from their chaise longues as two Armani suits stride conspicuously across their concrete plot of post-apple Eden. Even in their most relaxed moments Joe and Gavin Maloof, otherwise known as the owners of the Sacramento Kings, tend to move as if they're five minutes late for a plane. They also tend to be oblivious to their surroundings, whether they're at a Sacramento city council meeting to negotiate funds for a new arena or by a pool of nearly naked women -- against whom they stand out like incarnations of Jake and Ellwood.

"Let's get some quality over here," Gavin says, rubbing his hands together.

"We'll get us some bunnies," adds Joe, older by 11 months.

The brothers are searching not on their own behalf but -- as befits longtime leaders in the service industry -- for the benefit of an SI photographer hoping to pose two of America's most eligible billionaire bachelors among the local talent. "If the customer isn't happy, we aren't happy," insists Joe, who is interrupted by the pointing index finger of an old family friend from their hometown of Albuquerque. The friend directs everyone's attention to the neon-green, polka-dot bikini bottom squished provocatively against the balcony railing directly overhead. A hum of subdued approval escapes Joe's parted lips as he turns to stare at Gavin before looking away.

A woman sporting a black bikini and ankle tattoos, with breasts two times too large for her body, runs over as best she can in her stiletto heels. "Where's a Maloof? Where's a Maloof?" she wants to know. Without being asked twice (or even once), she leans into Gavin. "Don't cross your leg," she scolds as the camera snaps away. "You look like a fruit loop."

Another young lady dressed barely in white eagerly forms the Oreo filling between the black-clad Maloofs. The woman in the polka-dot bikini, who may be Brazilian, is invited down from her perch. More women appear until nine are gathered around the brothers. The one in black removes Gavin's suit jacket and drapes it over his shoulder. "He's pushin' in my boobs!" she shrieks while grinding her chest into Gavin's shoulder blade, before leaning aside to flash her top for the camera. All the while the Maloofs wear the same slightly stiff, high school prom smiles.