The Philanthropist (Trillionaire Boys' Club Book 5)

by Aubrey Parker

Stupid fucking genius, with his stupid social network.

  But I put up with Evan, who honestly isn’t that bad once I get past hating him for one-upping me, because Nathan Turner’s Trillionaire Syndicate is already segmenting into sides and cliques, as expected. Once enough billionaires join and our asset pool hits $1 trillion, we’ll each have votes based on our number of billions. I have 17 votes for $17.2 billion, and I’m sure my partner, Onyx, has my back for another 17. But Evan has 52 votes out of 1000 total. That makes him an ally worth having.

  “I don’t understand the problem,” he says.

  We’re in my office in Forage headquarters, overlooking the Seattle skyline. Evan is unassuming in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie.

  I say, “They’re going to put Ross’s proposal up as the Syndicate’s first big investment.”

  “So?”

  “We’re all Boys’ Club now. There are only a few Old Guard billionaires hip enough to have joined, so right now we have our savvy and press appeal. But things are splintering already. I think we all knew it would. We have to work together for the Syndicate to be effective, but we all got where we are because we’re arrogant. And dicks are being measured.”

  “So talk to Ross. Get his dick on your side.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of this cunt.”

  Evan looks around my office. He’s so convincing that I look around, too, and am even slightly surprised not to see the giant vagina my words seem to have implied.

  “Jamie Kyle,” I say

  “Who is that?”

  “The cunt who’s causing me problems.”

  Evan looks at me, then at the view. He slowly recrosses his legs. His suit is boring, but he wears it well. Yet another reason why he’s a punk.

  “You need to slow this down for me, Aiden. Talk like I’m mentally defective. I’m having a hard time keeping up with your paranoid fantasies.”

  I resist the urge to bite back. Instead I explain.

  “Jamie Kyle is Ross’s … I don’t know what she is. Daughter? But not by blood. It’s like he’s her mentor, but more. Her father died young and he stepped in to help her mom. She worked a lot, so Ross took care of her whenever he could. He was poor back then, but ramped up fast. So of course he paid for her college, and got her an interview with a prestigious architecture firm.”

  “You mean Urban Design? The company you bought a few months back?”

  “It was on contract,” I say, surprised and a bit unnerved that Evan knows about the UD deal. “We let it expire, and gave the company back.”

  “But you owned it for a while. So … what. Were you trying to buy this Jamie off?”

  “It was actually her friend Mia we wanted.” I sigh. “It’s complicated.”

  If Onyx were here, I’d hesitate to tell this story. We’ve gone around and around on this so often, none of it makes sense anymore. In theory, if Forage has a proposal we think will augment Anthony’s plan for the Syndicate’s money, we should be able to call Ross and discuss it. But that’s not how it works with him, and we’ve gone through many ways of duplicating what that simple meeting should have been able to do.

  “How is she causing you problems, then?”

  “Ross is so busy — and his rah-fucking-rah onstage brand is so friendly — that people are constantly pitching him great ideas. He’s all about seizing opportunity, making a difference and getting the best out of anything — I honestly think he believes that most ideas are equal at the start. So Ross has developed a system for deciding who he should listen to.”

  Evan nods. “So this girl, Jamie … she’s Anthony’s gatekeeper.”

  “Right. If she doesn’t like someone, Ross won’t even consider what they have to say, even if he pretends to.”

  “Talk to her friends. Get them to like you.”

  “We tried. Onyx spent a month in Inferno pretending to head development on our Education module, working on a friend of Jamie’s.”

  “And?”

  “Now Onyx is marrying that friend.”

  “So it went well.”

  “He burned us — Forage — pretty hard first. Basically took us back to square one of trying to get Ross’s attention. Don’t ask why, because he won’t tell me. If I could beat it out of him, I would—and believe me, I’d love to. It’s like he wants us to fail. But he still owns half of Forage. We’re still partners. So whatever Onyx has brewing, that’s on him. I can only control me.”

  “You, huh?” Evan laughs. “Maybe you should marry Jamie. Take a page from your partner’s playbook.”

  I don’t laugh. I’ve sort of thought of it already. After we temporarily acquired Urban Design, where both Jamie and Mia work, I went in to crack the whip on Onyx. I met Jamie, and we were flirty. I have plenty of women waiting, but I’d make room for Jamie’s firm tits and hot ass.

  Except that when Onyx burned our bridges, Jamie decided to hate me. And when I started trying to contact Ross behind her and Onyx’s back, she turned into an absolute bitch. Now it’s like she’s taking it personally and wants to see me pay for the way I tried to use her friend Mia.

  Bitches are so sensitive.

  Evan sees that I haven’t laughed and narrows his eyes. “So what do you want from me?”

  “Maybe we can help each other. Forage is one of the Internet’s heaviest hitters. So is LiveLyfe. What Ross has in mind? Same thing, and over time it could be even bigger.”

  “What does Ross have in mind for the Syndicate to invest in?”

  “It’s complicated. It involves Daniel Rice’s company, Eros, and an artificial intelligence they’ve developed. Or are still developing.”

  “I heard about that,” Evan says.

  I nod. “You would. From what I hear, Rice’s little live experiment with the AI failed — but not due to the AI itself. More due to internal strife. Upheaval on the Eros board, some sort of committee they report to … I don’t know it all. It involves a writer named Alexa Mathis. And a shrink named Parker Barnes. A few others.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  “The point is, there are many pieces to what Ross has in mind, and he needs them all to make it work. He needs the AI from Daniel, and it needs to be functional. He needs social data, shitloads — that’s you and LiveLyfe. He needs these people — Barnes, Mathis, whoever else — and chips made by Spooner’s company, Microdyne.”

  “Clive Spooner …” Evan scratches his head. His hair is half an inch long at most, and blends into his beard. “The guy who wants to own the moon?”

  “He wants to build something there,” I correct. “But he’s crazy. Or English.”

  “Okay. Clive Spooner.”

  “I want Forage to provide the infrastructure. Not just for the project, but for the social engineering behind it.”

  “Social engineering?”

  “Propaganda,” I explain, “but a lot more thorough.”

  Evan shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. This is the first I’m hearing about any of this.”

  “For now. But he’ll come to you. This will all be so much more valuable to the project if we team up now., work on the interface.”

  And commit you to casting your 52 votes in my direction as a side benefit.

  Evan thinks for a long time, then sits up straighter. “You should talk to Ross. Explain what you have in mind.”

  Stupid punk kid. Does he really think the world is that straightforward?

  “He won’t listen. I’ve tried.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Because of one girl. Jamie.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And the alternative,” he says, “to get around this single girl, is to rearrange companies. To form allegiances and shift the power dynamic.”

  “Correct.”

  Evan stands. He straightens his coat and, condescendingly, he slaps me on the arm. “You’re cracked, Bro. I can’t help you.”

  I push on. “Ross is already working with Spooner. And the Eros board.�
�

  “Good for them.”

  “They made something. A device. If I can see one, I could reverse-engineer the best way for Forage to serve it, and then if I talk to Ross, I’d have the advantage of—”

  “Cracked,” Evan repeats, then makes for the door.

  “You could talk to Spooner. He’d listen to you. Get him to give me one of the devices. Give us one of the devices. They’re small. Like an e-reader, only with some extra functions.”

  “Which functions?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why you should talk to Spooner. I only know what I hear through—” I shake me head. “It doesn’t matter. I just know that the device is the first prototype for what Ross has in mind, and we’ll be left behind if we don’t get in on it now.”

  “How, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why you should talk to Spooner.”

  “You talk to Spooner. I don’t even know him.”

  “I can’t. He’s in with Ross. And thanks to Onyx, Ross has decided that Forage isn’t trustworthy.”

  “How about his foundation? You’re the philanthropist, aren’t you? We’ve all seen Ross get boners over his foundation. Donate big. Go door-to-door handing out Thanksgiving dinners on his behalf.”

  “That feels really obvious. And like a long shot.”

  I get a little oh-well smile. “Then unless you can work around the problematic Miss Jamie Kyle, I think you’re fucked.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  JAMIE

  THE THING IN CAITLIN’S HAND is small and looks like a matte black e-reader. It has a bunch of extra buttons, and when she turns it on it’s clear the software isn’t package-standard.

  We’re in Anthony’s Thinking Room — the one room he doesn’t like anyone poking around in, ever — and I feel weird being here. This is where he comes to work out ideas, and it’s private. I’m surprised it’s not locked — but then again, Anthony lives alone, and he trusts me.

  I’m doing a terrible job of justifying that trust.

  “Okay, that’s enough. Put it back.”

  Caitlin ignores me and turns the thing over in her hand. “It’s like a little tablet — but it doesn’t seem to do anything worthwhile.”

  “Come on.”

  “I mean, there’s a reading app here.” She taps the screen. “And books loaded into it.” She taps again and words cover the screen. “Yeah. Same as a Kindle or a Nook or something.” She taps yet again, and the text disappears. A wall of cover images replaces it. “Boring library, though. All the books are by someone named Alexa Mathis. Who the fuck is Alexa Mathis?”

  “So it’s an e-reader. Cool. Come on, Cait.”

  She’s still obstinate, ignoring me, repeatedly tapping the screen. “I don’t understand these other apps. They’re like fitness apps. What’s this — heart rate? But not just heart rate. This whole app says ‘user biometrics.’ Wait, is that a camera? Is that me on the screen?”

  It’s gone before I can see what she means.

  “Who cares?” I tell her. “Put it back.”

  Finally, blessedly, she does. Then she shrugs — like What now? — as I lead her out of the room and close the door.

  “Do you want to get a movie or something?” I ask.

  I’m so-so on the idea; she’s made me antsy, bringing up Aiden the way she has. He’s arrogant and persistent, still snooping around and trying to make nice with Anthony, and with such a sense of entitlement.

  It’s getting late, it’s mostly dark, and I haven’t had this much to drink in a while. Still, I can’t stop thinking of Aiden. Ever since Onyx said all those terrible things about himself and his company to (paradoxically) win Mia’s favor, Aiden’s been trying to undo his partner’s disastrous play. Aiden is on his best behavior whenever Anthony’s watching, and Anthony is such a positive thinker he’d buy it if I weren’t around to make sure that he doesn’t. If I weren’t acting as gatekeeper, and deflecting Aiden’s many attempts to nose his way inside, Anthony would believe that Aiden is the generous, genius philanthropist the world believes he is.

  “Nah,” says Caitlin.

  Good, I think. I can’t sit still for a movie anyway.

  We walk the wide hallway in silence. The walls are plaster, the carpeting plush, but it’s hard for me not to think of the halls as being made of wet stone. The building was born as a castle, after all.

  “So what’s your deal now, anyway?” Caitlin asks, snapping me from thoughts of architecture — and Aiden. “How’s work?”

  “It’s fine. I like what I do.”

  “Who do you think makes more money, me or you?”

  I roll my eyes. That can’t be a real question.

  “What about guys? You getting laid?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I think that’ll skate by, but Caitlin’s on it like a hawk. She smells bad news and gossip like a vulture scenting carrion.

  “Wait. Fine? So you’re not getting laid.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Why aren’t you getting laid? Are all the guys in Inferno gay now?”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t getting laid!”

  “But you’re not.”

  We walk a few more steps.

  “Jamie? Look me in the eye. Tell me, honestly, that I’m wrong.”

  More steps. I say, “None of your business.”

  “Jesus. This is a crime. You have a vibrator, right?”

  “I’m not discussing this.”

  “I have like three.”

  “Well, of course you do,” I say. “You’re dating Rudy.”

  “Sometimes Rudy uses the vibrators on me,” Caitlin says with a sage look.

  “How adventurous of you.”

  “It’s not to be spicy or hot or kinky. It’s necessary. I swear, sometimes I think Rudy thinks my clit is in my butthole.”

  I laugh so suddenly I actually snort.

  “He just goes right in there. Finger up the cooch, right away. Sometimes he doesn’t even kiss me first. He’s all, ‘You like it like this, don’t you?’ And then I’m getting an exam.”

  “Have you told him you don’t like it like that?”

  “I have liked it like that in the past, so I think I’m too confused to say anything. Like maybe it’ll suddenly become sexy again.”

  “In the past with Rudy?”

  “No. With hook-ups in college.” Caitlin seems to be working this out. “Although back then there was foreplay. The guys were hot and knew about foreplay. With Rudy, ‘foreplay’ usually means watching TV. So we’ll be watching the news, and he’ll reach over and stick it in.

  “Why are you still going out with him?”

  “Inertia, maybe? I have a lot of other shit going on right now.”

  We descend the stairs. The steps are so wide there’s a bannister in the middle rather than on the sides. If it were still light out, we’d probably have taken the external staircase. This place is so tricked out, it has goddamned turrets — one with stairs winding around it, leading from the fourth floor to the third. The house has two separate kitchens, but the one we want is down on three, near the theater.

  “How is this about me? What about you? You’re the one who’s not getting laid. You’re hot. You’re young. You should be getting dick in your face all the time.”

  “I thought we were talking about companionship?”

  “Exactly. You can be a dick’s companion. Hold him. Love him. Give him a warm place to go inside and sleep.”

  “You’re terrible,” I say as we round the corner.

  The blender’s in sight. I need to get more margaritas into Caitlin so she’ll leave me alone.

  Fortunately, I don’t need to twist her arm; she goes straight for the thing and pours herself a fresh glass. She sits on one of the tall bar stools, sips, and fixes me with a serious gaze. “Talk to me.”

  I sigh. I’ve had enough, so I grab a glass of water. “I don’t know. Can we drop it?”

  “You know what it is?” She points at
me knowingly. “It’s your daddy issues.”

  “I don’t have daddy issues.”

  “You lost your dad young. You picked up a new one.”

  “That would mean my daddy issues have been satisfied.” I wish I’d chosen a different word the second I say it. Using “daddy issues” and “satisfied” in the same sentence while talking about Anthony fills me with a repulsed shiver.

  Fortunately, Caitlin (who has her own issues with my current daddy) doesn’t pick up on the chance for a cheap, immature joke. She takes another sip. “I just mean that you want someone to take care of you.”

  “I don’t need a man for that. I can take care of myself.”

  “You know what I mean. You want a domineering type. Someone who isn’t afraid to spank you.”

  I laugh.

  “I’m serious! You don’t need a Rudy. Sure, I deserve better, but I can handle him fine. I don’t need a domineering type. I like a strong, powerful guy, but I can get by because I’m such a bitch myself.”

  “You’re not a bitch.”

  “Please. This is a point of pride for me.”

  I let her have it, because it’s true. She tells Rudy what to do, and his lack of a spine turns her off. But I’ve seen her with stronger guys, and it’s impressive how she holds her own. She’s the bitch who stood up to our principal in third grade because there were bullies on the playground and he was ignoring it. The bitch who was being paid less than her male co-workers at the law firm, confronted her boss, and told him that he’d raise her pay or fire her … but that he couldn’t fire her because she was the best on the team.

  Caitlin looks around the big chrome kitchen. “You must know a lot of rich guys, through Anthony.” Then, thoughtful: “And your girl hooked up with one?”

  “Yes, but that was a coincidence. Mia knew Onyx when they were teenagers, and he was poor. Their getting together had nothing to do with Anthony, even though they’re both stupid rich now.”

  “Others in their little rich man’s club, then. What about that Aiden guy?”

  “Aiden Page?”

  “Yeah.”

  I don’t even bother to answer.

  “Why not?” she says. “You’re already stalking him.”

  “I’m not stalking him. I’m running interference, trying to make sure he doesn’t get to Anthony. It’s my mission.”