“Really, Mason?” She glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at me. ”Here.” She came back with a lukewarm bottle. “Like this.” Mom tucked Lily into my arms like a football and thrust the bottle into my hand. “She’s hungry.”
I felt totally out of my element. I was used to holding cell phones and ink pens—that’s when the magic happened for me. Holding an infant who trusted me to take care of all her needs? To feed her, and protect her? That wasn’t something I was good at.
My mother stood behind me, leaning over me and making silly faces at the baby as I gave Lily her bottle. “Relax, Mason. She won’t break.” Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “You can do this.”
The warm weight of the baby in my arms, the gentle suckling noises as she devoured the bottled breast milk, and the soft leather couch cocooning me as I watched her—something about it all felt right. Then she pushed the bottle out of her mouth with her tongue, batted her big blue eyes at me, and promptly spit up sour milk all over my favorite purple button down shirt.
Chapter 3
Mason
Sniff
“Gah!” Lily was cute, but boy, did her vomit smell.
I unbuttoned my soiled shirt, pulled open the bottom desk drawer, and pulled out a clean one still in the plastic dry cleaning bag. Quickly changing, I logged into my computer and started sifting through my email. At 8 pm, while the rest of New York was heading out clubbing or off to see a Broadway show, I was settling in for a long night of work.
I had an unusual number of messages from my onsite manager in China. Clicking on the first email, I started to read.
Mason, big problems. Call me.
I checked the time. It was 8am in China. He’d still be reachable.
Mason, huge issues. Production is going to be delayed. CALL ME!
Each message grew more insistent. I scrolled down, scanned the list, and reached for the phone. Carl had a messaged me every five minutes.
What the hell is going on in China?
“Mason! Thank God you called!” Carl’s panicked voice came across the line. “It’s a disaster here. We’re already a week behind schedule.”
I could barely understand him. “Slow down, Carl. What’s going on?”
“Half the workers have called out sick, the other half has shown up sick, and the assembly line is a mess. There’s a group picketing out front, calling for an overhaul of the Chinese workers’ rights system. The police are everywhere. Everyone is working scared. There’s no way to meet our deadlines!”
“Carl—Carl, calm down. What are the workers sick with?”
“I don’t know. Bird flu, maybe? They’re running fevers and vomiting. The factory stinks!”
“Ok, ok. We can deal with this. They can’t work sick. Pay them all for the next three days. Send them home. Get a cleaning crew in there. We can’t make these video cards in a dirty factory. Have the crew disinfect and sterilize everything.”
“That will put us further behind!” Carl protested.
“It will be okay. When we get back up and running, we’ll work around the clock and split everyone into three shifts for a few weeks to make up for lost time.” My mind raced. This disaster was going to put a serious wrinkle in the marketing of my video card. A breakthrough for the industry, we were already touting it as the next generation in gaming graphics. It had to be ready in time.
Kinsey
Holding the shiny metal railing with one hand, my body swayed to and fro with the motion of the subway car. The smell of unwashed bodies rolled over me. I looked around the unclean space and wondered if the grimy film that covered the plastic seats and floor could ever really be scrubbed away.
I was glad it wasn't too crowded as I occasionally bumped into the people next to me with the unpredictable movement of the car. I hated being packed that closely to people; it made me miss Adele even more. It was going to take me two line changes to get back to my apartment. My beautiful Mini would have had me home already.
Finally stepping out of the subway and into the cooler night air, my feet ached as I limped toward my apartment. Subway stations are big places, and I hadn’t done this much walking in heels in a while. I guess it is time to switch to wearing comfortable shoes. My days of sporting the trendiest labels and dressing for fashion were over. My new life required a more comfortable wardrobe.
I pulled open the door and walked into the corner grocery store by my apartment. Wiping the sweat from my temples, I tried to focus on what I needed to pick up for dinner, but I kept replaying the fight with my dad over and over in my head. What could I have said or done differently to change the outcome? This was something I always asked myself after spending time with him. He always made me feel like I couldn’t measure up, like I wasn’t smart enough.
Grabbing a fresh baguette, some cheese, a bottle of wine, and a pre-packed salad, I walked up to the checkout. I pulled out my credit card, comforted by the weight of the thin metal in my hand as I smiled and passed it to the cashier. She looked just tired as I was.
“I'm sorry, miss. Your card has been declined.” She looked at me regretfully as she tried to hand me my card back.
“No, that can't be right. Please try again.” Declined? I had never been declined before. Did he cancel my cards the moment I walked out of his office?
She swiped it again. “I'm sorry,” she said. “It's still coming back as declined. Do you have another form of payment?” This time she set the card in front of me when I didn’t immediately move to take it.
Shit!
I dug through my purse looking for the any leftover cash. Dumping it out on the counter, I waded through the receipts, lipstick, and a bunch of ink pens to find the coins at the bottom. It took almost all the cash I had to cover the $17.28 charge. Sheepishly, I picked out and handed over the coins, complete with purse lint, before scooping the mess up and shoving it back in my bag. I realized I only had eight cents left. Hopefully, I could find more at home.
My dad had really done it; he’d really cut me off. I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t planned. Rent was due next week, and I didn’t even know how much it was. How the hell am I going to pay my bills???
Mason
Ding!
The box for the inter-office messenger popped up on my screen, distracting me briefly from the China problems. Why is Mary messaging me at this hour?
Mary: Mason, sorry to interrupt your evening, but I saw you were online. I need to take some time off. My mother fell and broke her hip.
Shit! Mary was the glue that held me together. She was my executive assistant, and I couldn’t do without her. Part mother, part secretary, part sounding board, she ran the office with an iron fist. When my creativity took over and I buried myself in the design and development department, she made sure I was on time and attending my meetings. She was the reason I didn’t miss deadlines. She saw to it that everyone who worked for me was taken care of and happy. She sent birthday cards, get well cards, baby shower gifts, and signed my name to everything I didn’t have time for. She quietly explained to my ‘girlfriends’ that I was married to the company, and ordered them lovely parting gifts from Tiffany’s. What am I going to do without her?
Mason: Don’t worry about us here. We can handle it. Take as much time as you need and take care of your mom.
Mary: She will be in the hospital for a few weeks. I’m going to fly up this weekend and meet with her doctors. I’ll be back Tuesday to get things in order and find a temp for you.
Mason: I’ll let HR know they will be hearing from you.
Mary: Don’t worry, Mason. I’ll train someone before I leave. We have time.
This is a disaster! How the hell will I survive without Mary? Her counsel was invaluable. She would know how to fix this China problem and would have it smoothed over with investors and buyers in no time.
Good God, I don’t want to train someone new!
Chapter 4
Kinsey
Thirty minutes later, I was curled up on my couch,
wrapped in a quilt my mother had made before she died. Through the big windows, I looked out over the busy streets of New York City with a fresh chunk of baguette in one hand and a glass of chilled wine in the other. I wondered what I was going to do.
I really didn’t have any money to my name. How am I going to survive? Everything Mama had left me was in a trust, and my dad controlled it. He always gave me credit cards and money when I asked, but I always had to ask. I guess it was part of his controlling nature.
Rent! I shuddered. I was gonna have to pay my own rent next week, and I had no money and no job. Oh my god! I’m going to be homeless!
Ring! Ring!
“Hello?” I sniffed, dabbed my nose on a tissue and added it to the many crumpled white balls strewn around me. Reaching for a clean one I heard my on-again, off-again, part-time boyfriend Jason say hello.
“Hey, Kinsey, it's Jason.” His jovial voice hurt my ears. Bigger than life, Jason was always ready for a party; it was one of the things I loved about him. “I was wondering if you wanted to head out to the clubs with us?”
“I really feel like staying in tonight, Jason. Could you come over? I had a bad day. I got in a huge fight with my dad.” I was in no shape to socialize. I just wanted to wallow in misery on the couch and have someone hold me.
“Sorry, Kins,” he said. “A bunch of my buddies are heading out to that new club at time square. There should be like six or seven of us going.” His voice bounced around in my head, adding to my budding migraine. “I don’t think I’ll make it over to your place. It’ll be pretty late by the time we get back in from the club.”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to get all dressed up and go rub elbows with strangers all night. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. “Sure, okay. When are you going?” I asked, dabbing my eyes with yet another tissue. “It’ll take me about 45 minutes to get ready, and then I have to take the subway. Daddy took my car...”
Brusquely cutting me off, he continued on. “Hey Kinsey, I’ll see you when you get there. I got somebody calling on the other line.” Then he hung up.
It felt like a slap in the face, severing the only human connection I had to provide me any comfort. Never the most emotionally supportive person, I thought Jason might’ve sensed how upset I was. I’d imagined he’d share his sympathy. Maybe when I saw him in person he would.
Standing up, I let the quilt fall back in a heap on my couch and rubbed my face. I really needed a hug, and if I had to go to a club to get one, I guess I would, but first I needed to find some money.
The top of the washer held a dish of loose coins I always dropped my change in when I did laundry, but it wasn’t nearly enough for a subway card and drinks at the club. I needed more. Back in my bedroom I had an amazing walk-in closet. Heading into its depths, I started pulling purses off the shelves and digging through them. I scored $2.37 in coins in the first one. The second yielded nothing, but I found two $20 bills I’d tucked in a side pocket of the third and forgotten long ago.
Tottering down the sidewalk in my clubbing heels, I pulled on the hem of my short skirt and cursed my horrible luck. It was too cold to be outside walking, and who wants to take the subway to go clubbing? Luckily, my apartment was fairly close to a subway line, but I was still a long way outside the center of the city.
I’d chosen to live where I could get a nice apartment and parking for my now non-existent car. If I couldn’t figure out how to afford my rent, I was going to have to move. Where would I go? I started to sweat just thinking about my money problems again. I knew I wasn’t in a partying mood. Why did I let Jason talk me into going out?
Looking at my watch, I cursed some more. I would have to change lines twice to get to the right area of Manhattan, and then walk another six blocks to the club. My feet ached more just thinking about it.
Carefully walking down the steps and through the turnstile into the station, the smooth sounds of jazz drifted over me. A grizzled, stooped old man played a beat up saxophone in the tunnel. His ebony skin was a stark contrast to the short white hairs curling close to his head. Eyes closed, he played his heart out to an audience of harried businessmen rushing home to dinner, co-eds like me drifting by on their way to a night out, and the rats and pigeons that called the tunnel their home.
His battered saxophone case sat at his feet, surrounded by fast food wrappers, cigarette butts, and coffee cups. He gave us a concert worthy of the best jazz club in New York City. I dug into my tiny clutch and pulled out two crumbled one dollar bills. I didn’t have much cash, but of what I had, he deserved a share. Had I not already cried my eyes out, his music was so soulful it would have brought me to tears with its haunting melody.
My feet hurt again by the time I got to the bar. Waiting in line behind the velvet rope, I paid my cover charge—yet another $20 gone. I was really going to have to pay attention to how much I was spending. I had no clue how to budget.
The blaring music beat a steady rhythm in my brain. Scanning the room, the dim lighting and psychedelic flashes increased the throbbing tension headache behind my eyes. I rubbed my temples as I scanned the room. Where’s Jason?
I finally spotted him out on the dance floor, bumping and grinding on some woman in a barely-there neon blue mini skirt. Narrowing my eyes on them, I danced my way out onto the floor and cut in. Why am I jealous? We’re not even serious. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stand the sight of him so close to another woman.
“Hey, Kinsey! You made it!” Jason continued to dance, grinding against me without breaking rhythm.
I swung my hips and let the music take over. The rhythm poured through me, and I sweat the stress away. My headache receded into the background as we wove and twisted through the crowd on the dance floor.
The dancing was therapeutic, but it wasn’t solving my problems. When the music switched to a slower song, my emotions started bubbling up again, and I wanted a shoulder to cry on. “Hey, can we find a table?” I shouted at Jason over the blaring music.
“I’m not tired. You go on.” He started to dance away, looking for another partner.
“No really, Jason. Let's get a beer or something.” I danced after him and grabbed his arm, turning him to face me.
“Fine.” He reluctantly left the dance floor and followed me to a quiet corner table. Signaling a waitress, Jason grabbed us two beers and gestured at me, “You got that covered Kinsey?”
I pursed my lips and fumbled with my wallet. “Do you have any cash, Jason?”
“No. I left it back at the frat house. You got this, right?” He looked at the waitress and pointed at me.
With a sigh, I pulled out my last twenty dollars and paid the waitress. Then I turned myself back to him. “Jason, I really need to talk to you.”
“Hey look! There's that girl I was dancing with! Hey, let's ask her to join us!”
“Jason!” I shouted.
He looked at me. “Hey, Kins, it's all cool. Just relax. We're out here to have fun, not to be all serious.”
“But Jason, this is serious. I have a real problem!”
“Kinsey, you and me? We have fun.” He pointed at me. “You need to relax, or we aren’t going to work.” Then he paused and seemed to think about it. “You know what? I don't need this stress in my life.” And with that, he walked away, leaving me sitting alone at the table. Working the crowd and drinking the beer I paid for, he danced his way across the floor just like he danced his way through life—untouched by trouble.
I sat for a minute at the high top bar table, my beer untouched as condensation ran down the side of the cold bottle and pooled around the base. Leaning forward, elbows resting on the sticky table, I held my head in my hands and tried to figure out what I was doing—both there in the club with Jason and in my whole life.
Sitting up and smoothing back the hair falling in my face, I searched the crowd for Jason. Sure enough, I found him back dancing with the girl from earlier. I came to my feet, determined to break them up and try to talk to him again, but
then I stopped. I realized there was nothing left to say.
Jason was fun, but we hadn’t been serious. I was looking for something. I needed emotional support, a port in the storm to help me weather the fight with my dad, but that wasn’t who Jason was. It wasn’t what we had ever been. He was done. I guess I was too.
I don't need this.
I turned and left the club without even telling Jason I goodbye. Too exhausted to cry, I was going home to sleep. Maybe things would look brighter in the morning. Maybe.
Chapter 5
Mason
A new day was dawning. After a late night emailing and calling back-and-forth with Carl in China, I’d worked out hard at the office gym. Then I’d gone home and fallen into a deep sleep.
Crap!
I glanced at the clock and realized I’d overslept. Mary always called me by nine to check in and up-date her punch list if I wasn’t in the office yet. Ostensibly, she would ring to ask a question, but I knew she was really just checking up on me and making sure I wasn’t still asleep. With all the arrangements she was making for her mother that day, she must have forgotten.
I had ten minutes to make it to the soup kitchen. On Fridays, I always went and served lunch at the women’s shelter. I still remember= the year we lived there after dad died and the tiny room the three of us had shared. The rules, the curfews, the sadness that permeated the building stayed with me.
My 5000-square-foot apartment was bigger than the whole shelter and situated in the most expensive part of New York City. I slept on 1800-count sheets, instead of stiff, threadbare ones. Yet, I’d never forgotten how hard our time in that shelter was. I volunteered every week to keep me grounded.
Mason: The Lost Billionaires, Book 1 Page 3
