Billionaire's Curvy Contract Page 3
Minutes later we’re walking into my penthouse, and although I should be relieved, I’m weirdly disappointed. It’s almost like I wanted that brief moment to last: That moment when it seemed like Mother and Father might have made all my property and assets disappear, leaving me with no option but to head into that unknown future, Janelle at my side.
We toss our bags of loot on the carpet, and when we look at each other across the coffee table, I see the strange disappointment in her brown eyes. Already I sense the magic of that moment slipping away as we get closer and closer to the uncertainty of what happens at sunrise.
And then, as I look into Janelle’s eyes, see that she’s mentally being dragged back to her own self-created prison of business meetings and earnings reports, I realize that it doesn’t matter what Mother and Father do at sunrise. What matters is what they could do, and the knowledge that they can freeze our accounts either tomorrow or ten years from now gives them complete power over us.
Unless we break free.
“This is all pointless,” I say, kicking at the bags of my loot and running my hand through my hair as I begin to pace. “It doesn’t matter what Mother and Father do at sunrise, Janelle. The only thing that matters is what we do.”
Janelle watches me as I pace like a leopard in a cage. Hell, I feel like that caged leopard, trapped behind bars instead of racing through the jungle without a care in the world other than whether or not I can catch that antelope. What a rush it would be to actually feel hunger, to feel the pressure to succeed or else starve! When was the last time I felt that fire? Yeah, I tell myself that I never lost the fire, but I know that isn’t true. I traded the adventure of the hunt for the comfort of knowing I had more money than the Devil himself.
“So what are we going to do, James?” Janelle says from across the room. She’s leaning against the picture window that overhangs the swimming pool that looks like a teardrop from this height. “I understand that Mother and Father have gotten to us without really doing a thing. They showed us what they did to Ingram and India’s money, and so now we might have to live in fear that the same thing could happen to us any day—not just tomorrow, but twenty fucking years from now. It’s almost brilliant, isn’t it? They haven’t taken a dime from us yet. They haven’t sent any more threats or contracts. All they’ve asked is for us to “bring everyone” and come to a family reunion halfway across the world.” She chuckles and shakes her head before running her fingers through her long dark hair. “Should we go?” she asks.
I snort and keep pacing. But then I see the sparkle in her eye and I stop and turn. “Wait, are you serious?”
Janelle takes a breath, and I feel a spark of energy in my gut at the thought of continuing this adventure, of tossing our moneybags onto a jet and winging our way across the world on a dangerous mission to unmask some cult leaders. But of course that’s fucking ridiculous, and Janelle blinks and looks away and sighs.
“Well, we can’t go empty handed anyway,” she says with a hesitant smile. “They said bring everyone, right? That means Ingram and India—who most certainly aren’t gonna answer our calls right now.”
“It could also mean Hayes and . . . who’s the third woman again?”
“Hannah,” says Janelle, rubbing her arms and glancing at her bags on the carpet. “India and I tried calling her earlier, but she didn’t answer.”
“Hayes and Hannah are probably being played like puppets just like we are,” I say with a grunt, stopping by the east-facing window and sighing when I see the glow on the horizon.
Janelle walks over and stands beside me, and I slip my arm around her waist and hold her close. We watch in tense silence as the glow gets brighter, and I know we’re both thinking about how India and Ingram exchanged rings and vows as the sun went down. Again I get that what-the-hell feeling that makes me want to toss all that money into the pool, take Janelle in my arms, and dive into our future together. But although that’s a nice fantasy, it’s not that easy to let go of decades of beliefs about marriage, about how things get stale, how the magic dies, how the spark fizzles out, how the only way is downhill. At least money and assets are a sure thing, right?
Morning is almost here, and my heart sinks as the sun starts to rise. Janelle looks up at me, and I feel her ask the question with her eyes.
Are we going to do this?
“If we get married before sunrise . . .” I say softly. “Then maybe Mother and Father will leave us alone. Our millions would be safe. We’d just have to do what we said we’d never want to do. After all, that seems to be what they want.”
Janelle nods, and I’m so damned close to saying fuck it, let’s just get married. But I remind myself that sunrise is a meaningless deadline, that I’ve let Mother and Father mess with my head, that this isn’t about what anyone else wants. It’s about what we want.
I feel my brain and heart fight each other like there’s a cage-match going on in my soul, and I have to use all my strength to turn to Janelle and face up to the terrifying truth that after knowing this woman one night I’m somehow prepared to spend the rest of my life with her. How can that be possible? Is that really what I want? To escape from Mother and Father’s death-contract by entering into a life-contract? A lifetime contract? A forever contract? Step out of one prison and into another? Is that how we win the game?
“I guess we lose,” Janelle whispers, and I blink myself back to the moment and almost fall down when I realize the sun has emerged and the game is over, the moment is over, the chance is lost.
Janelle steps away from me like the sun has broken her from the spell, and although it makes no sense, I feel a desolation wash over me like something just went horribly wrong. I reach for her arm, but she shakes her head and walks across the room.
And suddenly I’m all fucked up in the head again, and I’m second-guessing everything, most of all myself. Why didn’t I speak up before the sun rose? Was Janelle hoping I’d ask her to marry me? Is she pissed that I didn’t say a thing? Does she think last night was a one-time fling? Do I think last night was meaningless? Of course I don’t! That was fucking real! Shit. What have I done? Did I just let a perfect moment slip through my greedy fingers? Without that artificial deadline will we be able to find another perfect moment?
I stride over to Janelle, determined not to let Mother and Father ruin what could be the start of something real for us. “Listen, Janelle,” I say. “Let’s get some breakfast and coffee. Just talk.”
“Talk about what?” she says, standing over her loot and sighing. Then she looks over at me and smiles sweetly, and I see in her eyes that she’s slipping away from me, going back to her life, like we’re both twisted versions of Cinderella and it’s way past midnight.
“This is fucking crazy,” I growl, trying to shake away the feeling of myself being pulled back to the world I’ve built with wealth and power. I can almost see the tentacles of that self-made prison slithering all over me like roots of an old banyan tree, pulling me away from a future with Janelle. “There’s no reason we can’t be together, regardless of some made-up deadline.”
Janelle nods and flashes that sweet, almost polite smile again. “Right,” she says. “Call me and we can schedule a second date. Next week, maybe? I can make some time Tuesday, I think. Move a couple of things around.”
I don’t understand what changed, but something is very different. At first I wonder if Mother and Father are angels or demons or witches and there really was a magic spell that got broken at sunrise when we didn’t make the choice to commit, to enter into our own contract, just the two of us.
The two of us forever.
4
JANELLE
I feel like I just walked away from my forever, I think as James drops me off at my condo building and waits in the car to make sure I’m not stopped by security or something. I almost want to be stopped, to be forced to turn back to James, slide into his car, nothing but two bags of cash and the open road ahead of us. But before I know it I’m ridi
ng up the empty elevator with those bags that feel heavier by the minute.
By the time I get to my apartment, it feels like the weight of this building is pressing down on my chest, and I collapse into my couch and wonder what happened to me . . . to us!
“There was no us,” I say firmly. “I just feel like this because all the adrenaline and other fight-or-flight chemicals are draining from my body. This is just me coming back to reality. This is normal, Janelle. This is your life. Last night felt like Disneyland for a reason: It wasn’t real. It was just fantasy. Play-time. And now it’s over. Grow up, Janelle. You have companies to run. You can’t just decide to have a fucking midlife crisis where you jump into marriage with someone you met a few hours ago.”
Though actually I met James a few months ago—and even before that we’d crossed paths at various conferences or investor meetings. I sit up straight on the couch and furrow my brow as I go back over my memories—memories that are startlingly clear. I didn’t think I’d really noticed James, but clearly my memories tell me otherwise.
“Perhaps this wasn’t the first opportunity James and I had to get together,” I say aloud as I take off my shoes and rub my bare feet. “But maybe it was the last.”
That melancholy thought pulls me all the way back down to my lonely reality, and I’m shocked at how I feel. After all, nothing material has changed in my life. Mother and Father haven’t touched our assets and property, and I get the sense we won’t hear from them again. It almost like I sense they’re disappointed in their kids.
Now I curl up on the couch and hug a pillow as that sinking feeling I got when the sun came up makes me want to cry. I don’t understand it at first, but as I chew on the pillow like a tortured animal, it comes to me: James was right. We are prisoners of our wealth—and we’re also victims of our wealth. Although we never stopped working hard, we lost that hunger we had when we were broke and ambitious. Feed a lioness every day for ten years and she doesn’t wanna hunt anymore, doesn’t want to take the risk of being gored by a wildebeest or trampled by an elephant. She’d rather chill in her cage and eat fly-infested dead meat—not because she’s forgotten how to hunt, but because she’s unconsciously slipped into a life of ease that’s safe and predictable.
I swing my legs off the couch and stare down at my bare toes. I wiggle them around as a smile emerges on my lips. “That’s why it was so exciting last night with James,” I mutter through my smile. “Unpredictability means adventure. Being with James reminded me of what it felt like to still have that hunger for danger, that appetite for risk, that devil-may-care attitude that shot me to the top of the mountain. It wasn’t about him! It was about me! About who I used to be! How do I capture that feeling again? Get that rush again?”
The answer comes to me in a flash, and before I can stop myself I’m out the door without shoes, my moneybags in my hands. “What’s your favorite charity?” I shout to my favorite doorman. “Never mind,” I say when he looks at me dumbfounded. I toss him a bank check worth a hundred grand and wave goodbye as I head to my car.
I get a speeding ticket on my way to the downtown Charity, and another one on the way back. But I don’t care, since I’m addicted to this manic need to get rid of all this artificial stuff, to discard the spoils of war and force myself to start a new campaign of conquest.
“It’s yours now,” I say to a homeless guy who stares at me as I park haphazardly in front of a fire-hydrant. I toss him the key-fob and smile. “I always wanted to do that,” I say with glee. Of course, I’m not sure how it works if you give someone a car on the street, but that’s the homeless guy’s problem now.
My head’s buzzing with excitement when I get back to my place, and it’s only when my schedule app starts beeping that I groan at how much more complicated it’s gonna be to disentangle myself from property and long-term investments and my responsibilities at all my companies. And then that melancholic, gloomy feeling slithers back in, and I stomp my feet like a sulky child, I’m so fucking desperate to just break free!
Finally my heart sinks as I realize that it’s not that easy to break free. In fact it’s hard as hell—so hard I might not be able to do it all the way. I’ve given away millions, but what’s left is also millions. And every month more money will get deposited in my accounts from the assets and investments and corporate salaries. There’s no way out, is there. It’s like I’m trapped in quicksand, clawing at the edge but never getting out.
“You were supposed to take our fucking money!” I scream into the phone like a freak. “That was the contract!”
I rant at Mother and Father again, and just as I’m about to toss the phone at the wall, it beeps!
With trembling fingers I tap on the message:
Be careful what you wish for, dear. You just might get it. Enjoy your freedom, and see you guys soon. Love, Mother and Father.
I blink as a creeping feeling of dread moves along my back, and when I start seeing messages from my accountants and lawyers begin to flood my inbox, I know what just happened.
Mother and Father did the untangling for me. They finished what I started . . . perhaps because they suspected I wouldn’t have the courage to go all the way.
Suddenly the electricity in my apartment goes dead, and I whip around in panic. Frantically I grab my bag and look inside. Just a couple hundred dollars and a bunch of cards that will no longer work. Also, I just gave my car away and I don’t have another one in this city. OK. Just breathe, Janelle. This is just part of the game.
And immediately I calm down and smile. Because if this is part of the game, it means the game is still on.
Which means I can still win.
It means we can still win.
Then, as if it was scripted by the screenwriter in the sky, my phone rings.
It’s James, and I already know why he’s calling.
“Which charity did you pick?” I ask casually even though my heart is pounding from the excitement of the impending hunt. “Animal Rights? Huh. Wouldn’t have pegged you for a bleeding heart puppy-lover. But whatever floats your boat, I guess.”
5
JAMES
“It’s not a boat,” I say, holding out my hand for Janelle. “It’s a ship.”
Janelle’s at the top of the gangway leading up to the container ship that’s headed for India. See you guys soon, Mother and Father had said. And we said what the hell. We got nothing else goin’ on right now. No meetings. No investment forecasts. No earnings reports.
No money either—not enough to blow ten grand on two plane tickets, at least. Thankfully our passports are still valid, and one of my former business partners is in the import-export business and got us one-way passages on a container ship for a few hundred dollars.
“I can’t believe that yesterday we were both millionaires in highrise condos, and today we’re broke and boarding a ship headed for India,” Janelle says as she finally takes my hand and hops onto the green-painted metal deck of the ship.
We watch as a massive crane drops the last container on the storage deck and the crew lash down the stacks with thick steel rope. Within moments the bullhorn sounds, and two muscular tug-boats arrive to escort us out of the harbor and into the open ocean.
I lead Janelle to our cabin, which is cozy and smells pleasant. It’s a small suite-type thing with a bedroom and a kitchenette and a sitting area. Two weeks ago I’d have declared these quarters inhumane and unlivable, but right now it looks like freedom.
“I can’t believe we both gave all our money away at pretty much the same time,” Janelle says as we take a tour of our home for the next two weeks. “And I can’t believe I’m not freaking out about it. I thought for sure I’d wake up and realize I was an idiot and it sucks to be broke.”
“Well, technically we only gave away the cash and bonds that we withdrew from the banks,” I say. “Mother and Father froze the rest of our assets, and since the game is still on, we still have a chance to get it back.”
Janelle sighs.
“Do we want it back, though? Now that we know the hold it had on us, do we really want to let that kind of wealth back into our lives?”
I shrug. “I don’t know yet. It’s only been a day. It feels exciting and new right now, but give it a few months and I bet it’ll get really fucking old.”
Janelle frowns up at me, and I blink and clear my throat when I realize how forcefully I said all that. Was I talking about the money? Or was I talking about the other big decision we made without really talking about it?
The decision about us.
I want to say something, but I keep my mouth shut. We’re both here, aren’t we? That says enough for now. I told myself to treat this like a second date, and I get the sense Janelle’s doing the same. We’re testing the waters, being cautious with ourselves and each other while throwing caution to the wind in every other aspect of our lives. It’s fucking crazy, but it only goes to show how deep our beliefs about marriage run.
“Decent second date,” Janelle says, flashing a nervous smile as the ship sounds the bullhorn and we feel the thunder of its engines.
“Let’s go up on deck,” I say, grabbing her arm and smiling.
“No, thanks,” she says, blinking and looking away. “I’m fine here.”
I frown as I feel the weird energy between us again. And suddenly the tiny cabin feels claustrophobic, and I wonder what the hell we’re gonna do for two weeks in here! This really does feel like an awkward date, and I grit my teeth when I think back to the wildness of that first night together . . . and how I let the sun rise without seizing the moment and popping the question before we both had a chance to let reality sink its teeth into us again.
And now I understand why we both gave away our money. We were both desperately seeking that rush of adrenaline, that frantic sense of urgency. We thought it was all about regaining the ambition and hunger of when we were broke in the early days, but now I know we were wrong.