by Simon Archer
“Yes! Yes, I was! Even if he didn't want to make you famous, you've never turned down a meeting that could have even the slightest possibility of opportunity associated with it,” Vila shot back, crossing her arms in defiance. I couldn't help but laugh. She was not wrong by any means.
I stood up, now dressed, and turned toward the doorway. She floated toward me, waiting for me to walk out of the room so she could follow. I quickly turned and stared at her.
“What?” she asked, nearly bumping into me.
“Aren't you forgetting something?” I commented sarcastically.
She started looking around the room with a perplexed expression. Then she looked me up and down, shrugged her shoulders, and shook her head.
“Nope, I'm all good. Let's go!” she answered with confidence.
I cleared my throat and looked down, looked back into her eyes, then looked down again. She finally followed my gaze and realized what I was referring to.
“Ha!” Vila called out, breaking into laughter immediately. “I suppose legs would be more appropriate!”
“Ya think?” I joked.
As her mist became legs once again, she put her hands on her hips and gave me a disapproving stare. Then she shimmied her shoulders and put her nose up in the air like some snobby aristocrat.
“I do think!” she huffed, “and I'm very happy that I noticed!”
“Good lord, woman!” I scolded humorously. “Take me to the man who is going to make me famous already!” A huge smile instantly transformed her face from faux-indignance to massive happiness.
“Yes, sir!” she called out as she stepped around me, grabbed my hand to turn me around, and pulled me out of the room. The two of us made our way down the long, curved staircase and into the kitchen.
Andi was sitting at the counter with a gentleman whose back was turned toward me. Both had a steaming cup of coffee beside them. Andi looked up as I entered the room and shot me an amazing smile.
“Here he is!” she told the man who immediately turned around and stood up.
My first impression of him wasn't the best. Although he had a pleasant enough expression, his blonde hair was in disarray, and his brown eyes were small and bloodshot. His usually wide nose was red on the end as though he’d been out in the cold. He was a short man, about five-foot nine-inches tall and rather round through the midsection. I walked over to him and held out my hand to shake. He had a firm grip and looked me directly in the eye.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anders. My name is Dave Klerik," he introduced himself as we shook hands.
"It's good to meet you, Dave," I responded. I let go of his hand and gestured toward the dining room table. "Come on over and have a seat."
"Thank you," he replied. He picked up his coffee cup, and the two of us made our way to the dining room. Andi had a cup of coffee before me in a matter of seconds. She and Vila went into the kitchen and pretended to be preparing breakfast. In reality, I knew they were simply eavesdropping, and it made me chuckle to myself. I took a sip of my coffee and set my cup back down before looking up at Dave.
"What brings you here today?" I asked him bluntly.
"I do apologize for the suddenness of my visit," he started. "I am not in the technology industry, and therefore, getting past your secretary at 14Tech wasn't possible. To be straightforward, I am here to talk to you about your being involved with a documentary I am filming." His face had become serious, and I could tell from the tone in his voice that what he was speaking of was very important to him.
"Yes, my assistant is a very efficient gate-keeper, I'll give you that," I told him. "Tell me some more about this documentary." As soon as the words left my lips, it looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from Dave's shoulders. He took a deep breath and sat back in his chair.
"The film is designed to inspire the common human to use their resources and future success to add value to the world," he began. "You see, I believe that money has a bad rap. People are programmed to view those with money as the enemy. In actuality, money just makes us more of what we already are. If you are an asshole, pardon my language, before you gain riches, then you will be a bigger asshole once you are well off. Of course, vice versa applies as well. To that end, my film will be showcasing successful 'rags-to-riches' philanthropists in an attempt to change the average person's perception of the wealthy."
His explanation sounded rehearsed but genuine. He did have a point. Everything from mass media to dime-store comics portrayed money as an enemy quite often.
“That's an interesting point of view,” I agreed. “Why the interest in me?”
As much as he had a decent idea, there was something about him that bored me to no end, so I decided to get straight to the point. My question seemed to make him a little nervous as he adjusted himself in his chair before answering.
“It is no secret that you have had fast and furious success,” he started.
“Beyond that, what you have done with the money that has come into your life is marvelous. From the business fund that you set up to help the families from that unfortunate scam last year that lost so many people their livelihoods to the real estate business model that you created for the apartment building you used to live in, your propensity to help others through riches you've acquired is inspiring.” He opened his mouth to go on, but I stopped him.
“How is it you know about my apartment building?”
Last year, after learning how a wish to increase the luxury of my surroundings would go awry, I had developed a program that allowed me to upgrade the units of the apartment building where I used to live while freezing the tenants’ current rent prices at the same time. The purpose was to allow lower-income individuals to live in better environments without the fear of money-hungry real estate investors moving in to develop the entire area into upgraded apartment living that the working people in the area would not be able to afford. I had been certain, however, to not have the details of my program published publicly. My curiosity was piqued by this gentleman having knowledge of what I had done.
“The ownership papers are a matter of public record, but as for the details, very simply put, I am an expert at researching topics I'm interested in. There are more ways to find out information than just reading what the press publishes... or, in your case, does not publish,” Dave answered.
His explanation made sense, but his attitude had shifted to one of almost smug satisfaction. It seemed that he realized my evaluation of his demeanor because he quickly put a smile on his face and continued in a more enthusiastic manner.
“Mr. Anders, the basic premise comes down to this,” Dave explained. “You are a shining example of how money can be used for good. In addition to that, your desire to continue working regardless of not needing to has the potential to show people what living a life of desire can look like for them. You have donated, offered service, continued to work on software that is intended to make others’ lives more enjoyable, and have remained a pleasant individual to spend time with, according to not only public opinion but also to anyone I have ever bumped into who knows you. Add to that, you being self-made, and you become the brightest example of what I am trying to show the world with this film.”
His sudden gushing of compliments made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t because he was wrong, but because my desire to be recognized for those things was non-existent. Just as I opened my mouth to refuse my participation, he sat forward in his chair and continued.
“Just to be clear, the film would not require any participation on your part. I am not creating it using an interview format,” he rushed to explain. I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms.
“What sort of format are you using, in that case?” I asked cautiously.
“I am using objects to portray the change,” he said. “Let's face it, everybody already knows who you are, and if they don't, once they see the documentary, they will go look you up and see verification of the good you've done, which I will outline for th
em. What I believe will make a stronger impression is showing people how you used to live. For example, the table we are sitting at right now is obviously expensive, handcrafted, and would only be available for purchase by a very wealthy person. However, I've heard it rumored that you used to have a table and chair set that you bought secondhand and refinished yourself. That set is what I would like to showcase in my film.”
In this second commentary, he no longer appeared smug. I couldn't imagine how he had heard about my table, but I imagine if I asked him about it, I would get much the same answer as I did when I asked about my apartment building. My mind suddenly flashed to the recurring dream I’d often had. I couldn’t actually see the images from the dream, but a weird sense of familiarity washed over me. I shook my head to bring myself back to the present and refocused on Dave.
“To be clear, you want me to lend you the table and chairs I refinished?” I asked him to be certain that I understood exactly what his request was.
“Yes,” he answered instantly. “Also, if you happen to have a picture of what they looked like when you purchased them, that would be fantastic as well.” He didn’t say it outright, but I got the feeling that he already knew that I did, indeed, have a picture of what the set looked like before I fixed it up.
“Well, Dave, I’m surprised you haven’t brought it up yet, so I will ask outright,” I replied. “Aside from what you feel your documentary will do for the ‘common’ human, what benefit do you feel I would get from agreeing to lend you these items? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t need a single thing, but it is atypical for someone to ask a favor without offering a benefit, and I’m curious why you thought I would say yes.”
I figured if he knew so much about me, that he should also know that the philanthropic endeavors I participated in weren’t the same as blatant handouts, regardless of the currency. Even the tenants in the apartment building I remodeled had been required to put forth effort during the process so that they valued the meaning of the project and were able to take a higher level of pride in their homes.
“Ah, I’m happy you asked,” Dave responded. “I am offering participants in this project the option to have a percentage of any advertising revenue gained from it, donated to the charity of their choosing. The benefit to you is having a passive avenue for furthering your current philanthropic endeavors.”
His answer was one I hadn’t expected. It was more aligned with my values than most offers I was approached with. I picked up my coffee and took another drink. I looked over the rim of my cup to see the girls staring in my direction. Both of them were silently jumping around with excitement. I could see nothing in their demeanors that indicated they were concerned or cautious about my moving forward with participation in the documentary. I set my cup down and looked back at Dave.
“Alright. I’ll lend you the table set and the picture,” I told him. He instantly smiled and his face flushed with joy, or relief, I wasn’t sure which.
“I am very happy to hear that!” he replied. He stood up and held his hand out to me. I followed suit and shook his hand. “Thank you!”
“Where shall I have them sent?” I wanted to make sure he realized I would only have professionals handling the transport of my furniture.
Without hesitation, he reached into the front pocket of his slacks and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up, removed a business card, and held it out to me. I took the card and placed it on the table without looking at it. He correctly interpreted my action as an indication that our conversation had come to a close, and it was time for him to go. He pushed his chair in and turned to leave. I followed him out into the foyer and opened the door for him. Just before stepping out, he faced me and smiled once more.
“I will send over paperwork by courier so you will have documentation for this. The packet will contain a form to fill out so you can indicate which charity you would like your proceeds to go to,” he informed me.
“Very well,” I replied. Just then, a question that crossed my mind earlier came back to me. “Hey, you said it was ‘rumored’ that I had the table and chair set. Where did you hear that?”
“Another participant in the film asked if something like that would be a good fit for it,” he started. “She didn’t mention you by name, but when I had told her that I planned on visiting you, she smiled brighter than I can describe with words. I just assumed it was you she was speaking about.”
“Who, may I ask, is this other participant?” Being that I had not heard about the documentary prior to my conversation with this man, I was curious about who was involved that I knew.
“Lottie Harris,” Dave said nonchalantly. Without another word, he turned and walked out the door. He had a bounce to his step that reminded me more of a child who’d just gotten away with sneaking a candy bar than a man who’d just furthered his career.
9
“Ladies!” I called out after I closed the front door. “Now that our little, unexpected visitor is gone, it’s time to get ready to go!” Andi and Vila appeared in the foyer with questioning looks on their faces.
“We are going somewhere?” Andi asked. “But we haven’t even talked about your movie debut!” I smirked at the two of them and headed toward them on my way to the staircase.
“You mean my old table’s movie debut? That can wait. Besides, you two heard everything that was discussed from your nosey perch in the kitchen!” I smacked the two of them on their rears as I walked between them. They each let out a little “whoop” and swiveled around to follow me.
“Well, we just couldn’t help but overhear. The kitchen is so close to the dining room and all,” Vila defended their eavesdropping.
“Sure, of course. That’s it,” I called over my shoulder as I climbed the stairs with them in tow.
“Where are we going exactly?” Andi asked again.
“We have investors to dazzle at the club with a leisurely game of frisbee golf. You remember Sven and Asher, right?” They had met them several times, but I enjoyed irritating them by insinuating their memories weren’t perfect.
“Of course, we remember them!” Vila shot back defensively. My jest had hit home, and I started chuckling. The three of us walked into the bedroom and started getting ready. While I was in the shower, the girls got dressed and laid out clothes for me.
After toweling off, I examined what they wanted me to wear. Although they had impeccable taste, their habit of laying my clothes out still seemed unnatural occasionally. I’d been dressing myself for years before I met them, but now, I rarely made my own clothing selections. I’d wondered on occasion if I should ask them to stop, but two things always came to mind when I did. First, it did come in handy sometimes to not have to worry about what to wear. Second, I was nearly certain I would be robbing them of joy in a way if I were to request they stop.
So, I put the thought out of my mind and began dressing. They’d chosen a new pair of joggers and a t-shirt made of slick, breathable material. Had we been playing golf, they would’ve dressed me a little more professionally, but frisbee golf was different. One needed to be able to move a bit easier. Sven and Asher preferred less formal wear, so the outfit was perfect, as usual.
When the girls came out of the closet, both looked stunning. They were dressed in barely-acceptable length shorts and flowing tank tops that hung invitingly off their breasts. They spun around for me, waiting for approval.
“You both look like you stepped out of a fashion photoshoot,” I told them as I walked over to them. I kissed each on the cheek as I ran my hands down their sides, over their waists, and around to their perfectly-shaped asses. I gave each a squeeze and then turned around, putting both elbows out for them to loop their arms through so I could escort them out of the house. The three of us paraded out of the bedroom and down the stairs like I was presenting them at a party.
By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs, our parade had turned into a joke. It started by Andi sticking her nose up in the air as though she was the queen
receiving her subjects. Then, Vila began doing the ‘princess wave’ to an imaginary audience. By the time we reached the bottom, all of us were laughing so hard that I slipped on the last stair and nearly fell on my face.
“Ladies and gentlemen! May I present Prince Grace!” Vila called out to the non-existent audience.
“Thank you, thank you,” I boomed in a faux-regal voice. “Please, enjoy the festivities, but remember, the bottom stair is for my tripping-pleasure only. The rest of the palace is yours to fall all over!”
The three of us busted up laughing with Andi laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her face.
“If you’d ever said that in the royal court when I was a girl, you surely would’ve been thrown in the sanitorium and deemed insane!” she said between hysterical giggles. Andi had been an Irish princess in her life prior to becoming a genie, so she was versed in all things royal.
“Are you certain that isn’t where I truly belong anyway? After all, I am in my upper twenties playing pretend with my two magical friends, aren’t I?” I pointed out, struggling to breathe through my laughter.
“Now that you mention it, yes!” Vila yelled. She grabbed me by the arm and started pulling me towards the kitchen. The moment we passed through the doorway, she stopped and turned to face me.
“Now we are in the sanatorium. Welcome!” she cracked up.
“Feels like home!” I replied, unable to stop laughing. Andi, who was still standing in the foyer, was howling so hard she had to bend over and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath while even more tears flowed down her face. The three of us laughed our way to stomach-aches before we calmed down enough for regular speech. When we could breathe without chuckling, Vila pulled me back into the foyer and over to Andi.
“Well, ladies, I am now making my official request for a day pass from the sanatorium with the intention to attend a regal match of disc-golf,” I announced, bowing deeply to the two of them. They both started giggling again but were able to hold it together.
