by Beck Rowland
On the third honk, Zenaida risked a glance back, then stumbled and stopped in her tracks. Approaching from behind was a gleaming, shiny black stretch limo, driven by a plain faced driver in pristine white gloves. As Zenaida stood stunned on the side of the road, the limo rolled past, coming to a gradual stop just as the rear-most window was directly in front of her.
The window rolled down to reveal a handsome, cleft-chinned man in his late fifties. Silver hair, sharp eyes, and impeccably dressed. The man gave Zenaida a quick once over, followed by a curt nod.
“Good Afternoon. I am Richard Hunter, representing ZhongRevo Corporation of Shenzen, People’s Republic of China. Are you Miss Zenaida Ruiz, owner of the ZRWG dot com web domain?” he asked. He spoke in clear, polished tones, with an accent that was vaguely European.
“I am,” Zenaida said cautiously. “How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy, particularly since I was unable to reach you by phone,” Hunter said. “I was finally able to use your domain registration info to locate your social media profiles. From there, I could narrow my search down to a few specific neighborhoods. We’ve been driving around all morning, hoping to get lucky.”
“That’s an extraordinarily creepy breach of privacy,” Zenaida said. Secretly though, she was pleased. If ZhongRevo went to such lengths to find her, they must really want the ZRWG domain.
“You might feel more forgiving after we’ve had a chance to talk. Would you mind joining me inside?” Hunter asked.
Zenaida considered the invitation. She wasn’t in the habit of climbing into cars with strange men, but the limousine was attracting a ton of stares from passing cars. With so many witnesses who would remember seeing a sweaty girl get inside, it would probably be safe. And yet she still hesitated.
“Are you a lawyer? Am I being sued?” she asked.
Hunter chuckled, then leaned over and opened the door for her. An icy air-conditioned breeze wafted over her. His cologne smelled like vanilla and tobacco.
“Hardly. I own a boutique Escrow agency,” Hunter said. Seeing Zenaida’s look of confusion, he added: “Escrow means I serve as a neutral middleman for major financial transactions. ZhongRevo has transferred funds to me. My role is to facilitate negotiations, and once an agreeable settlement has been reached, render payment to you.”
Zenaida wiped the sweat from her brow with one hand, then offered Hunter her other. He shook it with dry, businesslike efficiency.
“Well, I wasn’t really expecting to sell my new website,” Zenaida said. “But I suppose I can hear you out.”
The limousine was by far the nicest vehicle Zenaida had ever sat in. Enormous leather seats the color of fresh cream, a tall ceiling, and a refrigerator built into the door frame. As she buckled her seatbelt, Hunter reached inside and passed her a cold bottle of Fuji mineral water. Zenaida nodded her thanks and rubbed it across her forehead. She felt better already.
“Before we get to business, may I ask how you came to procure the ZRWG domain?” Hunter asked. He sat across from her, one leg crossed casually over the other.
“I’m planning a website for my poetry. Zenaida Ruiz Writing Gallery. ZRWG is a nice short name that my readers can easily remember,” Zenaida said.
She had made up the lie spontaneously. She didn’t know much about business negotiations, but she intuitively sensed she should play her cards close to the vest. Perhaps by playing dumb, Hunter would let some slip some additional details that could prove helpful.
“Poetry. How lovely,” he said politely. “And if you’ll forgive my bluntness, how is the poetry business treating you?”
“It’s not the most lucrative passion. I have a day job, but... well, money is tight,” Zenaida admitted. Hunter had seen her social media data, which meant there was no point in lying about her financial situation. “What about the Escrow business? What’s that like?”
“Escrow is a small, highly competitive industry. It’s all rather cutthroat, if I’m to be honest,” Hunter said.
“Wow, that sounds so difficult!” Zenaida said, her eyes wide.
“Oh, it is. Luckily my firm stands out from the crowd, thanks to a reputation for very quick, very discrete results. That is of critical importance for many major corporations, as I’m sure you can understand,” Hunter said. A tinge of pride entered his voice and Zenaida smiled back, aiming for an expression of pleasant vapidity.
“I guess so... I don’t really know much about business. Like, why would some big company want to buy my poetry site?” she asked.
“The details are not important. What matters is that they’re prepared to make a very generous offer in return for the domain. We’re talking about an amount far, far more lucrative than writing poetry,” Hunter said with a sly wink.
“And how much are they offering?” she asked.
“Zenaida Ruiz, brace yourself,” Hunter said. “In exchange for all rights to the ZRWG domain, ZhongRevo has authorized me to render you payment of one million dollars, transferable immediately to the financial institution of your choice. Congratulations!”
Zenaida’s heart leapt. The world seemed to spin. A myriad of excited thoughts raced through her mind. They could best be grouped into two groups.
Most of her thoughts, perhaps the overwhelming majority, were sheer excitement and joy. A million dollars! She was about to become a millionaire! In an instant, she could clear her debt, move into a new apartment, buy a new car, and turn her life around. It was a miraculous, dazzling, life-changing amount. It was everything she had hoped for when first telling Davey about her idea, although she had never truly dared to believe it would actually happen.
And yet, behind that excitement were other quieter thoughts. Calm, careful thoughts, from some deep reservoir of calculating instinct. Zenaida forced herself to remain calm, to reject the urge for ecstatic celebration.
“A million dollars?” Zenaida repeated.
“That’s right! Congratulations again,” Hunter gushed. He gestured at a briefcase on the adjacent seat. “There are some documents in there for you to review, all standard forms, relinquishing all rights to the ZRWG domain, non-disclosure agreement, things like that. We’ll be at my office downtown in another twenty minutes. The team from ZhongRevo are very excited to sign an agreement with you soon.”
Zenaida gave a small smile, then sipped her water again. Her mind raced. Was she seriously considering doing what she thought she was about to do? She cleared her throat.
“A million dollars is a lot of money,” she said slowly.
“Absolutely. We can have the agreement signed within the hour, and then--”
“What is ZhongRevo’s current market cap?” Zenaida asked. Her voice was suddenly sharp and loud, a bright glint in her eyes. She wasn’t smiling any more.
Hunter blinked, momentarily taken aback. He stammered, thrown by her sudden change in demeanor. Zenaida had the distinct impression Hunter was not often at a loss for words. When he didn’t answer, Zenaida continued.
“If I remember correctly, ZhongRevo is currently valued at $43 billion dollars,” Zenaida said. She let out a low whistle. “Now that is a lot of money. And spending $200 million on a celebrity-filled, multi-platform marketing campaign? That’s a lot of money too.”
Hunter stared at Zenaida with barely concealed disbelief.
“Hm...” Zenaida said. “After hearing numbers so big, suddenly one million dollars doesn’t sound like so much at all. Suddenly, one million dollars sounds like... chump change.”
Hunter shook his head, then smiled. He gave a small, mock round of applause, his expensive wrist watch glinting in the sun.
“Bravo, Zenaida,” he said. “I can’t believe I fell for the clueless poet act. You knew exactly what you were doing from the very beginning.”
“It got you relaxed and talking,” Zenaida replied. “And now I know that you were retained specifically because ZhongRevo wants a quick, quiet settlement. They don’t want the world
knowing they lost the domain for their expensive new eShopping platform. Shakes the faith of investors, am I right?”
“Zenaida, if we could just discuss this at my office, I’m sure--”
Zenaida glanced out the window, then pointed.
“My parent’s place is right over there. That’s where I was walking to when you picked me up. Please have your driver pull over,” Zenaida said.
Hunter frowned, then nodded to the driver. The limousine crawled to a stop and Zenaida opened the door. The afternoon heat hit her instantly. She paused and looked back at Hunter.
“If ZhongRevo want to make a quick deal and avoid bad press, they’d better come back with a real offer. Otherwise, tell them to get lost.”
“Wait,” Hunter said. His brow was furrowed in frustration. “In addition to pulling your social media data, I also requested publicly-available credit reports for you. Student loan debt, outstanding payments, negative balance in the bank. You’re financially underwater, Zenaida. Are you really going to walk away from a million dollar payday?”
In that moment, Zenaida nearly wavered. She was certain ZhongRevo could pay more. Not just certain; she was positive, down to the core of her being. And yet Hunter’s words struck home. She was in bad shape financially, and that was without considering her looming eviction from Lara’s apartment. What if she was wrong? What if she was about to walk away from her only chance at a million dollars?
And then Zenaida saw herself in the reflection of the limousine window. What she saw renewed her conviction, and she steeled herself to hold firm.
“Like I said: tell ZhongRevo I’ll hear them out if they decide to make a real deal. I’m sure you can find me again if you need to,” she said. Then she opened the door and got out.
The limousine pulled away, slowly at first, as if it was reluctant to depart from her, and then sped off, blending into the traffic. Zenaida waited until it was completely out of sight. When she was sure it was gone, she walked to a shrub near the road and vomited.
“You did WHAT?!” Davey exclaimed when she told him. His voice was so loud Zenaida pulled the phone away from her ear. “You...you are an absolute legend!”
Zenaida was pacing the road outside her parents house, her mouth tight with worry. The sun was still beating down, but Zenaida’s hands shook as if from cold. Her shadow stretched across the gravel, bobbing as she paced.
“You don’t think I screwed up? I’m second-guessing myself already... God, what was I thinking? I just passed up a million bucks. I think I’m going to be sick again,” Zenaida groaned. She rubbed her neck, already feeling an anxious knot of muscle tension forming.
“No way Zeny, you were spot on. ZhongRevo tried to low-ball you, but they can definitely pay more,” Davey said.
Zenaida felt a wave of gratitude for her friend. His boundless encouragement and optimism were just what she needed at the moment. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. Then the anxiety came rushing back, and she groaned again. “Are you sure I didn’t make a mistake? Because you know how broke I am, and a million dollars--”
“Zeny, Zeny, trust yourself,” Davey chided. “You mentioned noticing something about your reflection which helped make up your mind, right? What did you see?”
“I saw myself,” Zeny answered. “As Hunter must have seen me. Faded Goodwill t-shirt, sweat patches under my arms, cheap Target jeans caked in dust from the road. When I realized what they saw when they looked at me, everything suddenly made sense. It dawned on me that everything about that encounter-- Hunter’s fancy suit, the limousine, all of it-- was supposed to overwhelm me. They wanted a quick, cheap win.”
“They thought you were an easy mark,” Davey said, his voice filled with respectful awe.
“They thought wrong,” Zenaida said. She kicked at the gravel absently. “Or else I thought wrong... in which case I will never forgive myself.”
“You are definitely not wrong. Hunter will come back with a real offer, something that will blow a piddly million bucks out of the water. Maybe it’ll be five million, or ten! Zeny, we’ve got to celebrate. What are you doing tonight?” Davey asked.
“I’m heading to my parent’s place to use their laptop. Crazy Karen is kicking me out of Lara’s apartment. I need to find a new job and move out before I end up in a cardboard box,” Zenaida said.
“Job? Cardboard box? Zeny, you’re a future millionaire! We gotta--” Davey said.
“What I am, Davey, is a present-day negative thousandaire,” Zenaida said. “If Hunter comes back with a better offer, fantastic! The champagne will be on me. But if he doesn’t, I need a real paycheck in a real big hurry. I can’t afford to sit around and hope for the best.”
“Alright, fine. Are you gonna tell your parents?” Davey asked.
“God, no,” Zenaida replied. “Mom keeps falling for pyramid schemes. If I told her I might have a million dollars coming today, she’d be trying to sell me a million dollar’s worth of Essential Vitamin Oils tomorrow.”
“What about your Dad? Didn’t you say he lost his pension in the Recession?” Davey asked. “He’s probably always stressed about money. This could set his mind at ease.”
“True, but Dad can’t keep a secret to save his life. Telling Dad is basically the same as telling Mom,” Zenaida laughed as she ducked beneath a line of drying laundry. “I’m heading inside now Davey. I’m going to put all of this out of my mind and focus on finding a job. Talk to you later.”
Her parents had bought the trailer over a decade ago, back before they tumbled out of the middle class. It was supposed to be for vacations and camping trips in their old age. Instead, her father’s company had gone bankrupt when he was only a year from retirement. Suddenly her father was pushing sixty, unemployed, and without a pension or retirement savings. They’d foreclosed on their house and the trailer had become their primary residence. It was tiny, cluttered, and smelled of mildew, but it was the closest thing Zenaida had to a home.
When she walked in, her father was watching TV in his favorite recliner. He leapt up as she opened the door, crossing the distance in a single step and engulfing her in a warm hug. Her father was a kind-faced, portly man, still wearing the Wal-Mart vest from his morning shift.
“Zeny! How are you? So good to see you!” he said. He shouted across to the other compartment of the trailer. “Honey, Zeny’s home. Put something in the microwave, will you?”
Zenaida’s mother poked her head around the wall and waved.
“There’s Pop-Tarts on the counter sweetie, help yourself if you’re hungry” she said. “I scored a Tupperware sales training seminar for half price, so I’ve got to get ready.”
“Thanks Mom, Dad,” Zenaida said. “I was actually just hoping to use the laptop for a while.”
“Oh sure honey. Hop right on,” her father said. He pulled out a chair and pushed aside stacks of old magazines, then set the laptop down in the empty space.
“Doing a bit of online shopping? Or is it online dating?” her father asked. He gave a corny, theatrical wink.
Zenaida laughed and rolled her eyes. She never shared her financial struggles with her parents-- they would only worry, and couldn’t help-- so her father was blissfully unaware how absurd the idea of Zenaida doing some casual afternoon shopping was. Or, for that matter, the notion that she’d have the time, energy or inclination for dating.
“Just applying for a new job,” she replied. “I’ve got something new I’m working on, but if it doesn’t pan out, I need to find something with better pay and benefits. It’s just time for a change.”
“That’s great, Zeny. Hard work and grit, that’s all you need,” her father nodded. “Back when I was at the company, I broke my back every day, from dawn till dusk. It built character, gave me a sense of purpose, you know? You apply for those jobs, Zeny, and when you get in the interview seat, you let ‘em know you’re not afraid of a little hard
work. Once the managers see you’ll sweat and bleed for them, they won’t want to let you go.”
He gave her another small hug, then returned to the recliner and television. Zenaida watched her father for another moment, smiling sadly.
He had indeed poured his entire adult life into his company, devoting long decades of hard work and grit. And what had it earned him? An aborted retirement, his golden years wasted on part-time retail work, then coming home to a tiny, squalid trailer.
Zenaida shook her head, wondering what the hell she had been thinking. Apply for new jobs? So she could spend the next five decades breaking her back for stagnant wages, shoddy benefits and an unlikely retirement? Forget it. If ZhongRevo came back with a real offer, Zenaida needed to be ready. This was probably her one and only shot at escaping poverty. She couldn’t just sit around and hope for the best. Zenaida turned on the laptop and got to work.
By the time she finished, the sun was starting to set. She decided to walk back to Lara’s before it was dark. Her father had fallen asleep in his recliner, and her mom was still out at the Tupperware sales training meeting. She closed the laptop, kissed her sleeping father on the forehead, and quietly stole away.
Halfway back to the apartment, Zenaida decided to stop at Murph’s. It was the only kickboxing gym in town. Murph Gosling, the owner, was a grizzled, retired FBI agent who claimed Zenaida was like the daughter he’d never had. He enjoyed having her come round so much that he’d given her a spare key. She was welcome to use the gym whenever she needed to blow off steam, even if the place was shut down for the night. Tonight was definitely one of those occasions.
“Zeny! It’s been a while. Here to punch away some stress?” Murph exclaimed. His eyes nearly vanished as he smiled, a maze of wrinkles spreading across his face. A bright shock of white hair stuck from beneath his cap.
