Drake knew that he needed to stop surfing the BillionaireBash.com sooner than later anyway. It was all a load of slanderous and malicious garbage. Those women didn’t even try to get to know him. They didn’t know, nor did they even desire to know the real Drake. And he wondered if he actually didn’t prefer it that way. It was convenient. Quick, easy, and to the point. Just the way he enjoyed it most. In any event, they only put those awful accusations and name callings on him simply because he knew they were only initially interested in him for the dollar signs that overflowed in his banking accounts. The women were money chasers and every dozen or so were identical.
He couldn’t even logically answer what it was, exactly, that had convinced him to want to surf that lousy web page this morning. It may have had to do with the reaction that bombshell blonde with the massive tits had screamed at him as he had Banks show her to her cab the previous evening. He knew she must have already been on there bitching and moaning over a box of wine in the wee hours of the morning, ranting to all the other most renowned money grubbers of the upper class.
Drake eased his way across the antiqued wooden floors with a peculiar gracefulness for a man of his large stature. His thick, chiseled arms stretched up towards the high, vaulted ceilings. Drake couldn’t help but stare at himself as he squeezed his rock hard six pack, each abdominal muscle stretching tight, displaying each line, crease, and vein that ran over the fields of his muscle tissue.
He pressed a hidden button on the wall. Suddenly the slate gray wall of the far side of the master bedroom began to slide down into the floor. As the light eliminators crept down the wall, they revealed a big, floor to ceiling window that stretched across the entirety of the wall. The warmest sunshine eased its way in, filling the room with its late morning brightness.
Drake eyed the morning’s busy traffic and hustling, bustling people crowding and fighting for moving space along the sidewalk. Traffic was already backed up at the major intersection, and buses and taxis attempted to weave in and out. Drake was beyond thankful that his top floor suite had been equipped with soundproof windows. He could only imagine the hellish sounds that must have arisen from the awake and operating city below him. Not that he’d be able much anyway. His father had purchased the skyscraper thirty-two years ago. The building was located in the most energetic portion of Atlanta. The streets here never slept. Drake’s suite took up the entire top, eighteenth floor, and featured an access to the rooftop where he had an exquisite urban garden. He couldn’t be more pleased.
He stared down at all the people moving this way and that, swaying with that oh so familiar regularity. He would never understand people and their crotchety ways. But then again, they didn’t have the commas in their bank accounts like he did.
The warmth of the daylight made him reminisce on the night he had just spent with that blonde bombshell. She had been a real looker. Her body seemed to be made of nothing but tits and ass. Her legs were longer than an entire encyclopedia series, and her face was purely perfect. Her long, thick, wavy blonde hair had swallowed him whole. And boy, could she make love. There was only one thing… She was the exact same as every single other girl he’d ever brought back to his place.
She had no mind. She was just as burnt out as the last redhead, and that brunette he had railed out a week before now. These women had no originality. No spark, no spunk. They had one interest, and that was money. Which, for Drake, worked out in his favor, as he could seduce them with his profound spending; once he had them hooked, they would be down for anything. He would get them into the sack, and then that was it. Simple as that. Granted, he did always take them somewhere. To a concert, or a renowned sports events, or matinees, ballroom dances, anywhere he could really show off his monies and his social placement. He also used this time to really feel out the girl. And that was just what each one was, every time. Just a girl. A girl who was doing nothing but searching for that dollar. Gold digger. That’s what they called those types of girls on the west side of Atlanta. And that class of women seemed to plague the realm of the big time ballers.
Drake had continued right where his successful father had left off. He became one of the most well-known developers in the southeast of America. He had really made a name for himself, and it wasn’t all completely due to his hefty inheritance. He had truly put forth a ton of hard work and energy into creating his easy-go-lucky life. Of course, his money and his family connections helped in great heaps, it hadn’t been gained by pure chance (like most of these money hungry women seemed to believe).
Suddenly a soft, stern knock at the door drew Drake from his ponderous thoughts. Ah, he could smell the bacon and rich, dark Colombian coffee through the door. Now there was a real man’s man. His faithful butler, whom held the highest grace, innate propriety, and the skill sets to make nearly anything ‘disappear’, softly knocked once more.
The weighted door opened with a silent ease. First entered a silver plated, covered serving tray, followed by an extended arm, covered with a fine black suit, a white cloth napkin draped over the forearm, not a crinkle or unedged fold to be seen.
“Good morning, sir.” Banks entered the spacious, impressive suite. The butler resided on the next floor down but spent most of his woken day in the top floor mansion apartment.
“Banks, please tell me that blonde bimbo didn’t tuck anything into her clutch as she so pleasantly left us last night! I never do feel like I can trust them…” Drake’s voice fell off as he gazed at the white-gloved hand that lifted the cover from the food tray. The wondrous smells of breakfast wafted through the pleasantly warm air.
“I saw her all the way down to the lobby, and then out to the cab, and I closed the case just as I pushed her cab door closed. She left empty handed, I’d say, sir.”
“Ah, wonderful Banks. You are the only man for me!” Drake smiled sheepishly at the steward as he took a seat on his off-white, plush pillowed meditation chair, and dug himself back deep into it as Banks unloaded the splendid spread.
“I have some, er, rather upsetting news about your latest project, sir.”
“Oh God, please don’t tell me that city is actually complaining about the go-cart track we are installing in the Washington Price Mall. I’ve already paid too many people to take care of that outlet. I am so tired of dealing with that madness. What am I to do?”
“No, sir, it is actually in regards to the newest site. The land that is located on the cleaner, east side of the river.”
“Oh, you mean that cheesy little sports complex or whatever that shithole is? I thought we had that one nipped in the bud? What the hell do I pay those chamber of commerce fools for? Christ almighty.” Drake could hardly get the words out as he swallowed three sunny side up eggs all but whole. The crispy, perfectly cooked bacon hardly fit in his mouth between gulps of orange juice. He was always ravenous after a night of rum drinking (and he’d consumed a great amount of rum the previous evening, in order to stand and tolerate the bombshell blonde; as they usually did, she had possessed a mouth like a motorbike).
“Yes. That’s the one, sir.”
“Oh, well, do tell, please, kind sir!” Since his boyhood, Drake had never succeeded in convincing Banks to simply call him Drake, or man, or dude, or any other moniker he wanted to christen him. He always called him ‘Sir’. Even before the accident.
“Those scanty folks down in the borough. Well...they are...I guess you’d say they are standing up for the character of their community. One, in particular, she seems to have taken control of them all.”
“Control of them all? What the hell are you talking about? I must’ve drunk more than I thought last night.” Drake couldn’t begin to comprehend what Banks was saying.
“They’ve signed a petition, sir.”
“Okay, pointless names printed over pointless lines on pointless letterhead paper…so what?”
“They summoned up a rather large following sir. The people are doing everything in their power to stop th
e youth center from being shut down.”
“Don’t be silly Banks, I am loaded. You know just how this thing goes. I waltz through the streets of the ‘goon docks’, throw a few checks hither and yon, and we’ll be well on the way to owning the biggest shopping mall this side of the Mississippi!”
“As you say, sir. However, I have a weary feeling in my bones, sir; my intuition, so to speak.”
“I don’t have time for faerie’s tales, Banks. I’m no longer the child you spoke those tales to. I am now a man. And I carry myself as one. I’ll stroll down there this afternoon myself and sort this mess all out.” Drake could feel his own arrogance exit his mouth on his fervent, bacon-laced breath. He hoped that Banks had been able to restock his favorite toothpaste. Banks said the supermarket had been out of it the last time. The red kind that had replaced his favorite had continuously left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Truly, sir, I feel like this may not be as easy a feat as you have mentally prepared for yourself. I’ve known you close for many, many years now. Our alignments have become close together, our intuitions are like books unfolding.”
Drake nodded his head to his faithful butler, and as he stood and turned away from the breakfast tray, he rolled his eyes back into his head. He couldn’t stand when Banks got all ‘woo-doo-ey’ on him. It was, quite frankly, obnoxious. Though, as far back as he could recall, Banks seemed to have some sort of mysteriousness about him. In fact, it exuded from his very body. Drake had sensed it in the old man since...well...since the accident so many years ago.
Drake had a sound reason, in himself that is, for the way he behaved and why and how he thought things through. He had lost both parents to a tragic accident when he was a very young lad. They’d been subjects to a car robbery gone entirely wrong. The larceny quickly turned to a heinous act of violence, resulting in the untimely death of Drake’s father and mother. His parents had been the only true love he’d ever witnessed. Though his father was a very flourishing businessman, with more money commas in the bank than anyone in Atlanta at the time, he still managed to find Drake’s mother. And she was no mine working, money hungry parasite (not like the women of today) - they were truly in love. The deepest of love. And they showed that identical love to their beautiful, handsome son. Up until the accident, of course. After that, Drake claims that his ability to freely love died with them. It was lowered into the cold, dark ground, just the same as their side by side, gold plated caskets. Since the day the parents were laid to final rest, Banks had been looking after Drake. Raised him from a pup, as was willed by his father. His father trusted Banks, who had been in the family already for several years.
Drake was becoming slightly annoyed with this should’ve-been beautiful morning. He rarely ever intentionally started his day off by reminiscing about his longtime dead parents. He was just as successful as his father had been. He ran the business to a tee, and his numerous bank accounts showed it. That was all that mattered to him.
“Shall I get Richard, down at the chamber, on the line, sir?”
“What?” Drake had been consumed by his thoughts and had forgotten that Banks was in the room. “Oh, yes, I suppose that would be in my best interests. So much for golf with Brad today. I was ready to break in my new clubs…”
“Let’s do remember why you have a new set, to begin with, sir.”
“That shit talking caddy had it coming. And I’d do it all over again if someone else did the same. He had all that and some coming, and he knew it.”
“As you say, sir.” Banks left the room with the food tray tucked under an arm.
“I guess someone has to step up and give a reason for all the name calling and bachelor bashing on BillionaireBash.com.”
Chapter 2
“Thank you, Mr. Deloney. Your signature on this paper may just change everything! We never know.”
“Oh, anything for you, dear. You know I’ve always supported your moves in this neighborhood.”
Hannah Andrews pushed open the squeaky store front door. The familiar dinging of the small doorbell gave her an extra warm feeling as she stepped out into the beautiful morning’s bright sunlight.
The rays seemed to be bringing out the best in every living thing that dwelled in the small inner city community. Children could be heard, their small shoes pitter-pattering across the smooth concrete sidewalks, clutching to their mothers’ hands as they hurriedly made their way through the awakening city. A number of birds and squirrels chirped and barked to one another in the small square park across the street from the freshly opened store fronts. The smell of Dee’s Delicious Coffee shop was carried on the soft breeze that blew gracefully through Hannah's long, luxuriant hazel hair. Dee’s cafe was the last stop and signature on the list.
Hannah had spent the entire morning, thus far, collecting the remaining signatures she needed to complete her full-blown petition. The thought alone of the youth recreation center closing made her sick to her stomach. But she was extra chipper this morning. She simply had a wonderful feeling in her gut. It could, of course, have a bit to do with the perfect start to a perfect spring day unfolding right before her eyes. The weather, the pep in the step of each passerby. Food carts were being wheeled out and their wheels being chalked. Storefront owners were rolling out their special goods to be splayed out in the cheerful sunniness. The waves and smiles and salutations and just the beauty of the small community coming together first thing in the morning were enough to melt the coldest of hearts.
Well, she thought to herself, all the coldest hearts except for one. That dreaded developer and his stupid plans for that damned shopping mall. A monster shopping mall...planted right on top of her beloved youth rec center. She still couldn’t fathom the thought. That youth center had been the mainstay, the backbone of her entire life. It was all she’d ever known, other than her most recent employment as a columnist in the weekly editorial. She was raised on the land that made up the rec center. Her foster parents had, in fact, owned and run the entire center since she could remember.
With the announcement of her foster parents’ retirement and the news that they’d both be moving to the warm beaches of Key West, they signed the entire lot over to Hannah. She had been working as the manager of the center since she had returned from business school at twenty-four. For the past five years, everything had been going exceptionally well, aside from the youth center becoming more and more outdated as time passed. They didn’t have the appropriate funds rolling in to allow for any sort of modernization and she damn sure couldn’t get the help of the big time investors. It wasn’t as if she were a billionaire or something.
Then entire community adored and cherished the treasure. It was a safe place for children and young adults to hang out and play and learn valuable life lessons. It, along with all the small, mom and pop businesses, gave the community a grand stature of character and tender quality. It kept less privileged kids off the streets and out of any sort of trouble. In fact, it kept the streets completely clean. They held volunteer programs; they formed clean-up crews who kept the streets and parks clear of trash and waste. Overall, aside from the lack of funds, the place had been thriving.
Well, it had been thriving all right, that was until she had received the first letter from the city just after Christmas of last year. Basically, the letter had beat around the bush about this ‘code’ and that ‘regulation’, and that, low and behold, they’d have to shut her down. They would not only be shutting her down but some fancy pantsy, big timing developer from inside the big city, was going to be buying the land and building some sort of monster shopping mall. The letter made sure to mention that the building of this new attraction would draw in people of all sorts from all over the place. They stated that it would be the best thing to ever happen to the small city community.
She could not believe her eyes when she’d read that first letter. Since then, many more had come in the mail and she had nearly exhausted all hopes of keeping the center alive an
d striving. The only thing that had kept it all together so many years before now was the tightness of the surrounding community. They had all barred together for many years to keep the small, inner society’s unique culture captive and alive. Now, with money being thrown around the city as if it were some disgusting nightclub, the small sub-communities were paying the full price. Hannah had asked anyone who’d listen to her story for an advance or loan or just to simply invest in donations to keep the vital safe haven lively and active.
What hurt Hannah the most was the thought of how this event would change the course of so many young humans’ lives. More of the local children and regular kids who utilized the complex were in dire need of it. They fully relied upon its functioning. With an open door policy, the center held its arms wide open for anyone under the age of eighteen. A better portion of its clientele was underprivileged children who came from hard, sad backgrounds. They practically needed the center as a cornerstone for their future. That youth complex had, in fact, been the main reason several children had been accepted into college sports programs.
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