Trillionaire Boys' Club: The Internet Giant

by Aubrey Parker

  “Hmm.”

  “And by ‘jumped the gun,’ the ‘gun’ is his fat hog.”

  “I get it.”

  “Because you jumped all over his sausage. You just climbed right up there and slid down that shit like a ring pop.”

  “Actually, I was laying on my desk.”

  “But now you think he loves you — and that’s a problem.”

  “I don’t think he loves me, Jamie.” But saying it bothers me a little. Truth is, I did see something in Onyx’s eyes before he bent me over. It wasn’t really lust and it certainly wasn’t love, but it was something. In the neighborhood of regret. Like maybe he didn’t want to do what we were doing but couldn’t help himself.

  Or maybe I’m projecting so I don’t feel like a total slut. I mean, he didn’t speak to me at all afterward. He left my office, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

  Maybe because he was processing his feelings and couldn’t face me.

  Because … you know … maybe he still kinda loves me.

  “Mia? Earth to Mia.”

  I turn my head back to Jamie, realizing I’ve been daydreaming. She’s mocked me for my far-away gaze before, and I’m sure I’ve done it just now.

  “He’s bad news, Mia. He’ll hurt you again. I can’t let that happen. I’ll cut his balls off first.”

  “I know,” I say, nodding.

  But honestly, I’m only telling Jamie what she wants to hear.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MIA

  Jamie wants to hang out in the evening, but I get the feeling she’s doing it to keep an eye on me, like a wary shopkeeper watching a group of kids he’s afraid will start stealing.

  At first, I consider taking Jamie up on her hangout idea, even knowing her likely intentions. It’d be good to have a sounding board, even if it’s a judgmental one who thinks I’m unfit to run with scissors. But then I think of today and how I feel about it. It’s moved to some sort of mental back burner, neither present nor absent in my mind. I’m working behind the scenes, brewing something I can take the lid from and figure out tomorrow.

  I don’t want to think about Onyx, nor do I wish to steer my thoughts clear. I don’t want to avoid him, really, but I also have no desire to seek him out. Today’s tryst popped a bubble of anticipation between us, now we’re back to neutral with our itches scratched.

  I feel strangely distant. No lust or regret, desire or shame. It’s just something that happened — another datum for my percolating, back-burner equation.

  I feel safe to be alone. I won’t do anything stupid. I know where Onyx is staying, and something tells me he won’t come all the way out to Old Town to walk around — let alone come for me with another ill-conceived bouquet. He must be as confused about me right now as I am about him. He won’t come to find me. I’m fine. I can do this night myself, and probably need to.

  Jamie thinks I was imagining the strange new look in Onyx’s eyes, but even now — even after I’ve had time to absorb Jamie’s assessments and think on it — I believe it was there. No, I don’t think that look was love. I’m not that stupid — especially not now, not after being burned a million times. But I do think it was something.

  And if I had to guess, Onyx probably has changed in some small way over the past six years we’ve spent ignoring each other. I surprised him as much as he surprised me, and I doubt either of us knows what to think of what we did on my desk.

  I hear Jamie: It’s just sex.

  But it wasn’t, no matter what Onyx said before moving inside me.

  Determined to be alone, I call Eva at Ticket to Ride and book a lesson. Riding horses relaxes me — and bonus points when she’s yelling at me to straighten my back, lower my heels, and keep my chin up. Riding, for me, is like yoga. I focus on my body and on doing what my instructor says. It’s almost primal, and I can forget everything else.

  Hold this body part this way.

  Hold this other part this way.

  Grip with my legs.

  And feel the animal move beneath me.

  The sky darkens after the lesson. I run back to my car, smelling like horse. I’m the only one in the lot. The night and hills are quiet. We’re five minutes from Old Town out here, but for a while, looking up at the stars, I feel like the world’s lone occupant.

  I’m not thinking about today. I’m only thinking about now. This was exactly what I needed to clear my head.

  I drive through Old Town on my way back to my place, and as I pass The Nosh Pit, I get a sudden hankering for a big greasy burger. I have plenty of food at home, but tonight — tired, smelly, and unsure of my moral bearing and/or integrity — I figure what the hell. So I stop.

  And at the second table past the hostess stand, I see Simon.

  I consider pretending not to see him, due to an odd feeling in my gut (didn’t I have sex with someone in his building today?), but he sees me and raises a hand, his face lighting up.

  I smile, head over, and sit. I guess I’m not getting take-out, but that’s fine.

  I reek of horse, but Simon doesn’t seem to notice. We make small talk. He asks how things are going. I say, You mean in the one day you’ve been gone? Har-har.

  Simon laughs, but then keeps waiting. Yes, he means it. He’s been gone from Urban Design for less than 24 hours, and already wants an update.

  That makes me sad. Simon mismanaged the company and that’s probably why he lost it. He could barely keep us afloat despite our high rates and stellar reputation. The guy was too damned nice. But now, looking at his big eyes, I realize that Simon’s attachment to the company wasn’t borne of dogged persistence. He didn’t hang onto UD for years after it started bleeding him because he was stubborn or stupid. He founded the company, and it was always his baby.

  So I tell him: As far as a single day can go, things are fine.

  “Aiden said they’d bring in a new CEO,” he tells me. “I don’t suppose you heard anything about that?”

  In a day? Of course not. But rather than sharpening the point, I shake my head.

  “The company needs a CEO. A real one.”

  “You were CEO, Simon.”

  He shrugs. “In name, maybe. But I never acted like one. I just wanted to make art.”

  That hurts a little more. I never got to know Simon super well, but I know enough of his history for that to hit close to home. Once, when I was new to the firm, we went out to lunch. We were both fine arts majors, but I had a degree in business, which Simon didn’t have. Late in my run, I added a serious focus on civil engineering, then extended my run by over a year to get that degree, too. It’s made all the difference in building my dream job, setting me well above (and more in demand than) our architects.

  I have Onyx to thank for pushing me toward civil engineering. He understood me, knew I was great at math even though I hated it. He told me to get over the hump and do more of it now, so that I’d be happier tomorrow. He was right about something I’d never have realized on my own.

  “Until then,” Simon goes on, “is Jamie running things?”

  “Some. Most of the daily operations.”

  “And you?”

  “I got an informal promotion.” Then, feeling ridiculous but sure I should say it, I added, “We’ll take care of Urban Design for you, Simon. She’s in excellent hands.”

  He smiles, then sighs. “I believe it. Mr. Page said they were infusing some much-needed capital, too. He said Forage needs the write-off, plus dedicated staff to work their Education project, if it happens.”

  “‘If it happens’? Is there a chance it won’t?”

  Simon looks caught. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk about this. I signed an NDA.”

  Part of their deal, I guess. I let it go, though that definitely raises my antennae. As far as I’ve heard, Forage came to the Falls for their Forage Education expansion. Why are they here, if they might not do it? And why did they buy an architecture firm if they weren’t sure?

  “Look,” I say. Someth
ing’s been bugging me, and if I’ve got Simon here, I’m going to at least try and ask. “I know it’s confidential. The deal is confidential. But the staffing plans … that can’t be under your NDA, right?”

  “I’m not sure …”

  “Once Forage owns the firm, then it’s none of your business. So you can’t be expected to keep it confidential.”

  “Technically, they don’t really own it. More like they’ll own it soon.” Simon’s hand darts to his mouth like he’s said too much.

  I pretend not to see this. Going for my question now, while he’s distracted because he thinks he might have blown his deal, is my best chance.

  “Some people were worried that Forage might lay some people off. I heard chatter about it this afternoon.”

  “They can’t get rid of you, Mia. You’re lead engineer.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of me. You always ran UD like a family, so I’m thinking of everyone.”

  It’s true. Probably one of the reasons we were always underwater. There’s an old drafter, Jerry, whose skill set was obsolete a decade ago and who says he “prefers” not to work on a computer because he doesn’t know how. There are a trio of interns that Simon funded even though they were unpaid positions, because it was “fair.” The residential team, in particular, probably isn’t relevant to Forage’s commercial plans. They might be on the block.

  Simon watches me. He definitely knows something, and is trying to decide whether to tell me.

  “I won’t say anything, Simon. I’m just concerned.”

  “Okay,” he says, nodding. “I guess I’d have to keep it to myself if there were going to be layoffs, but I’ll tell you, to set your mind at ease, because the truth is there won’t be.”

  I’m surprised. My face must show it, because he gives me an I know, right?’sort of look.

  “It’s written into the takeover documents. Which are under my NDA, remember, so don’t say anything. Promise?”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Simon chuckles, then shakes his head. “I hope so. Because if Mr. Page finds out …”

  “Why would I tell Aiden that you said anything? You know I wouldn’t rat you out, Simon.”

  He shakes his head again, this time more insistently. “It’s not that. I’m not saying that Aiden will find out that I talked to you about our deal. I’m thinking of the disaster that might erupt if he found out what the deal was.”

  “How could he not know what the deal was? He made the deal with you!”

  “I made an initial deal with Mr. Page,” Simon explains. “But it wasn’t until after Page left that I finalized it with Mr. Scott.”

  “You finalized the deal with Onyx?”

  Simon nods. “And when I brought up staffing and layoffs, it was already too late. Those things were fully Forage’s decisions by the terms of our takeover.” He looks around, smiles guiltily, and says, “I’m not doing a very good job of ‘not disclosing’ per my ‘nondisclosure agreement,’ am I?”

  I ignore this. I’m more interested in the meat of what he’s saying, and damn whether he’s not supposed to tell me.

  “What about staffing and layoffs?”

  “He wrote up an addendum, Mia. Right on the spot. They’re equal partners, and either one of them can bind Forage in a contract, so he didn’t need Page’s okay. And he told me, this was between us — between me and Mr. Scott. I couldn’t tell Page, because if I told him, he’d flip.”

  “What did the addendum say?”

  “It said they’d freeze staffing for two full years or until the contract is rescinded, whichever came earlier.”

  “He wrote up something specifically to freeze staffing? Meaning nobody can be fired?”

  “Not unless they steal or do something egregious.”

  “Why? What did you give him to get him to add that to your deal?”

  “Nothing.” Simon shrugs. “I asked and he gave. He even put up a fund to cover overpayment on payroll. But here’s the thing: He said his partner would know if he took that fund from Forage’s account, so he paid for it personally.”

  “Are you saying that Onyx not only promised, in writing, not to let anyone at Urban Design be laid off or fired … but that he personally created a fund to handle staffing?”

  Simon nods. “The shortfall, yes. So the larger business won’t be impacted by what he called my less than ideal hiring and paying choices.”

  I realize my mouth is open. I close it.

  “Why, Simon? Why would he do that, after Forage had already taken over the company?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea.” Simon gives me a helpless smile. “He just said something weird, that he didn’t want to explain.”

  “What was it? What didn’t he want to explain?”

  “He told me,” Simon says, “that there really are such things as ghosts.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MIA

  This was a really stupid idea. The minute I open my mouth, I know I shouldn’t even have come to my mother’s house, let alone said what I have. In my memory, it was one of a few untainted things. Now Mom’s ruining it with her rolling eyes and sarcasm, making me feel stupid in seconds, soiling the mood I had on my short drive over after leaving Simon.

  “‘There’s such a thing as ghosts’?” she says.

  “Never mind.”

  “Are there such things as fairies? Can I give Tinkerbell back her power if I say it enough times, and believe with all my heart?”

  “Mom, just … forget I said anything.”

  But she’s on a roll. I should have known better. I had my entire life to teach me. And even if I didn’t know better at first, I should have figured it out at some point while telling Mom about my day. I omitted the colorful parts (mainly my desktop interlude with my ex, or any mention of us talking), but I had to tell her about Forage’s sudden and inexplicable takeover of my company in order for Simon’s punchline to make sense. Now I wish I was dead.

  “No, no, this is important.” Mom stands, leaves the kitchen table, and starts opening cupboards. She opens every one along the top, then works on the lower ones. I know exactly what she’s doing, but I also know that if I don’t play along, she’ll keep it up forever and prolong our embarrassment.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for ghosts.” Her head perks up. “Or fairies.”

  “This is why I don’t tell you things.”

  “You have to tell me everything. I’m not just your mother; I’m your best friend.”

  “Jamie is my best friend.”

  Mom points at me so hard and so suddenly, she almost jabs me in the eye. Her smile is cocky, and that makes me want to walk away.

  I don’t, of course.

  “Liar!” she says. “Your mother is your best friend. You can’t deny it. I gave birth to you.”

  “You know, some people have relationships with their parents that are more—”

  “Boring?”

  “Traditional.”

  “Yes. Like boring people. But we’re not boring. We are bold adventurers into the fields of awesomeness. And we do believe in ghosts!” She keeps opening cabinets. Fuck. I guess she’s not going to stop.

  “Mom …”

  “Shh. If I stop this, I’ll have to talk to you seriously. I’m very uncomfortable with that. Because if you force me to talk seriously to you, we’ll have to have a discussion about what an idiot you’ve become.”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Idiotic enough to think it’s non-psychotic behavior when your ex-boyfriend buys the company you work at in order to try and win you back. I’ve gotta tell you, Mia — your father never bought any companies for me. It was an entirely unsatisfactory courtship.”

  “Mom …”

  “Idiotic!” She shouts it like an old crone in a gothic novel might shout Unclean!

  “First of all, Onyx didn’t buy UD. Forage did.”

  “Oh. You’re right. That’s so different.”

  “It is dif
ferent! He can’t just go buying whatever he wants.”

  “He’s got six gazillion dollars,” Mom says.

  “It has to be approved by the company. I think they have a board of directors or something.”

  “Well, now,” Mom says, putting a hand on her hip and standing beside her recently vacated chair. “‘A board or something’? This really is turning into an airtight case.”

  “Second, they need architects and engineers to build their new campus.” I figure I might as well try this one; I was lucky enough not to mention Simon’s slip that Forage Education might not even happen.

  “And you’re the only architecture and engineering company in the world.”

  “We’re one of the best. And we’re here in Inferno, where they want to build.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “And third, you heard what I said, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m going to get the Ouija board.” She actually walks toward the door. I’ll have to shout to stop her; we really do have a Ouija board somewhere and Mom will stop at nothing to beat a joke to death.

  “Mom!”

  Turning. “Yeeees?”

  “Oh, forget it. I’m going home.”

  This time, when I stand, Mom finally drops it. She comes back to the kitchen table and puts a slender hand on the top of one wooden chair. “Okay. Fine. I’m listening. What does it mean, about the ghosts?”

  I sigh. I don’t want to tell her this now. It’s already mostly ruined in my memory, and I’m somehow sure she’s about to ruin it the rest of the way.

  “It’s something I told him,” I say.

  “Something you told Onyx?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “He was taking a class. Something that was one of the university prerequisites that he didn’t like. History or something. Or a foreign language; I don’t remember. But you know how he was with computers. So of course he figured out how to change his grade, and he figured it out early, when the class started. He told me all about it — about how he was just going to ditch all the classes then change his grade at the end, after he’d failed. I told him it was a terrible idea.”