“You’re just full of them tonight, Teddy. Can I help you get in a cab?”
“No you cannot.”
“So you can pull off that feat on your very own? Great. Go ahead back downstairs then and do it.”
I placed my hands clumsily on her shoulders. “But I’m giving you an interview.”
“What?” She shrugged my hands off of her, and I watched them lazily fall to my sides.
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“Sure. But…” She took a step back, eyeing me from head to toe. “What kind of game are you playing, Teddy?”
I remembered earlier in the night when I had come to the realization that I should offer her an interview. I had been called into the Dean’s office where I was sat down and scolded for my little poker tournament. The thing was, when Ashley posted her article outing my gambling ring, it gained much more press than just the Huntington Herald. At first, it worked well enough in my favor. Word got out, and everyone wanted in. It moved from once a week to two, and then from two to four. And I’m not ashamed to say that I was making a good deal of money. It didn’t matter that I didn’t need it. I was making money from something I was passionate about. Isn’t that the dream?
But soon, enough professors were in on the pot that it became a problem. The professor who offered me the bribe came forward in a confession and the Dean nicely asked me to consider disbanding my endeavor. Of course he would never threaten me, as my family was now a major donor to the university, but his tone made it apparent that it was the board’s decision not to punish me, and not his. The last thing I wanted was to be on the wrong side of the Dean, even if I did have a sort of unspoken immunity.
Still, I left there pissed. I knew it was Ashley’s fault that my games were being made to cease. I spun my brain around ways that I could get back at her; things I could take from her. It didn’t matter to me that I was privileged and she grew up “wanting.” She made her bed, and I was about to make her lie in it. Since the night I maturely chose not to take advantage of her, she retaliated by documenting my entire life: every test I took, every restaurant I tried, every move I made. People either only hung out with me to get their names in the paper, or refused to hang out with me because they didn’t want their names in the paper. My life was an open book. I couldn’t run away from her. I couldn’t hide anywhere. I had never hated someone so much as I hated her in that moment my games were shut down.
I devised a plan to get close to her, to force her to like me, maybe even to fall in love with me. Then I would metaphorically pull down her pants at recess. I would learn all her secrets and then, when I had taken what I needed, I would expose her to the world. That’s one of the perks of being ridiculously wealthy: people listen to you.
In order to make her trust me, I would need to open up to her first. I would need to seem as though I needed her. I would make her feel like an equal, make her think I cared.
The ideas were pouring out of me. With every sip of bourbon I took, a new way to deceive her popped into my mind. I was on fire!
Now, I need you to know that I don’t condone any of the terrible things I was thinking that night. Deceiving people out of revenge is really not a good thing. Remember, I was twenty-two and the one thing I cared about, my gambling games, had just been taken away from me. I wasn’t thinking clearly. And, you’ll be happy to know, it never worked! I tried, though only briefly. I tried to let her in. I tried to make her fall in love with me. But it was as if she could read me from the very beginning. She always seemed to be one step ahead. I chalked it up to that mind reading thing she had done the last time I had been in her apartment: the whole wall, tongue, and breaking of glass trinkets vision.
I entered her apartment thinking I was playing it super cool. I went in, I told her I would give her an interview, she asked me what game I was playing, and then I winked at her and left. I was in and out in under a few minutes.
I went in:
“I can’t believe how small this place is!”
I told her I would give her an interview:
“I’m giving you an interview.”
She asked me what kind of game I was playing:
“What kind of game are you playing, Teddy?”
And then I winked at her and left:
“How’d you know I was playing a game?”
“I assumed as much, but you did just confirm it.”
Wait, why wasn’t I leaving? I remembered winking and leaving! I stayed? How long did I stay? What was I doing?
“You are a tricky one, Ashley.”
“If I’m so tricky, why do you want to give me an interview?”
“Well, you might not know this, but I’m tricky too.”
Teddy, stop talking. Get out of there! Don’t say another word!
And I’m talking to my memory again…
Ashley took a step closer. “How are you tricky, Teddy?” Was she flirting with me? Is that why I was staying?
“If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d think you were really pretty. Like really, really pretty.”
Yes, that was exactly why I was staying.
“You hate me?”
“Of course I hate you! But you hate me too, so we’re even.”
“We are even.”
“But we’re not. Because of you and your stupid little stories, I have to shut down my poker night.”
“I did that?” Oh my freaking God, she was absolutely leading me on. With every enticing delivery, she inched her way closer to me. And I was falling for it! She really was me in female form!
“You did! But don’t worry, I have a plan.”
“The interview?”
She was now close enough to me that we could feel each other’s breath. She was good: definitely better than I ever gave her credit for… I watched my eyes roll back in ecstasy. That was weird. I had only ever felt my eyes roll back in ecstasy. Had I known what rolling my eyes back in ecstasy looked like, I would’ve trained myself not to do that a long time ago.
“The interview is just part of it!”
“There’s more?”
“There’s so much more.”
Don’t tell her, Teddy.
“Tell me, Teddy.”
I wonder whom I’m going to listen to: my subconscious or the beautiful temptress.
“Well, see, I’m devising a plan to get close to you, to force you to like me, maybe even to fall in love with me.”
I guess that answers my question. Oh wait, I’m still babbling.
“Then I will metaphorically pull down your pants at recess. I will learn all your secrets and then, when I have taken what I need, I will expose you to the world. That’s one of the perks of being ridiculously wealthy: people listen to you. But, and here’s where the real thinking comes in, in order to make you trust me, I will need to open up to you first. I will need to seem as though I need you. I will make you feel like an equal, make you think I care.”
Apparently I gave her my full plan word for word. No wonder it never worked. No wonder she was always one step ahead of me. This time, she wasn’t a mind reader. This time, it was all me.
“I’d love that interview.”
“Now?”
“No, I’d be afraid that you’re so drunk you might tell me something you didn’t want to tell me.”
Okay, she was good.
“Tuesday at six?”
“Tuesday at six it is.”
And then I winked at her and left.
There it was! The wink and the leaving: I knew they happened at some point.
Better late than never.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HUNTINGTON HERALD
Interview with a Bad Boy
By Ashley Leigh
When you desire to be a journalist, to uncover the truth, to offer a strong point of view, you know interviews are a large part of the job. You read them, you watch them, you study them, but nothing prepares you for sitting knee to knee with someone while you dig to the core of their being. I
could sit here, days after the fact, and analyze the interview, analyze every word he said, every move he made, and I could bring my voice to the piece. That’s what I do. I look at a situation and comment on it.
But when that situation is right in front of you, when that situation has a face, and breath, and a silly nervous laugh, that situation becomes a human being. That situation is a person.
That situation was Teddy.
Here is the interview I conducted with Theodore Vincent Stoneguard IV this past Tuesday at six:
AL: So Teddy, I’ve heard you say before that you look forward to the day your father hands his company over to you. What makes you deserving to run a company of such magnitude?
…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Teddy
…interview continues
“So Teddy, I’ve heard you say before that you look forward to the day your father hands his company over to you. What makes you deserving to run a company of such magnitude?”
“Wow, okay, you just want to jump in like that, huh?”
“I do.”
“I think we need to talk about the terms of this interview before I answer any of your questions.”
“What terms? You offered me an interview; I took you up on it. This is me interviewing you.”
“And what do I get in return?”
“Your story gets told.”
“Nah, not good enough.”
I had invited Ashley to my home that evening with the intention of giving her the interview I had promised, but as I stared at her across from me, I didn’t want to talk about myself. I wanted to talk about her. She was still a mystery to me, and something about that just didn’t sit quite right.
But I had a plan, and that plan started with me. I needed to make her trust me, and the only way I could do that was by opening up to her. But opening up to her in an interview? She could take that information and twist it in a way that would most certainly sell papers. No. I needed to get her off the record.
Even looking back at it now, I’m not sure if I ever truly believed I’d be able to deceive her into falling in love with me without falling for her in the process. I think I tried to convince myself I could, but on some level, I knew the reality wasn’t there.
Or maybe on that same level, I actually did want to fall in love with her?
“I’ll answer any questions you have, in any order you’d like them, if you go out with me.”
“What? No.”
“A simple dinner. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to spend an evening with you. Not the reporter you. Just you.”
“No you don’t.”
This was a different Ashley than I had seen that night in her apartment, a different Ashley than in the library. That layer-deep confidence I had seen in those instances had disappeared. I was asking her out to dinner, which meant she would need to talk to me without the help of copious amounts of alcohol. It was as if sex didn’t scare her; it was the connecting to other people part that did. I was asking her to connect. She turned into a terrified child right in front of me.
“Ashley,” I reached my hand out to her, “it’s just dinner.”
“It’s never just dinner.”
It never is just dinner, is it?
“No one thinks I can do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father’s job. No one thinks I can do it. Everyone knows what parties I attend on the weekends, but no one knows the work I’ve been putting in for years to understand the inner workings of Stoneguard Holdings. A company, especially one as big as my family’s, has a heart, a bloodline, and it needs to be treated as such. Turn your voice recorder back on, and I’ll answer your questions… Is it recording?”
TS: You asked me why I think I deserve to be at the helm of my father’s company. That question has so many answers, the first of which being that it is my family’s business. One day, my father will decide to step down from his position, and at that time, someone else will need to take over. I have been groomed my entire life for that role, and I take pride in the fact that this is my family’s legacy. It’s not just about money and power for me: it’s love. Who, more than me, would see to it that that legacy stays intact? But I know that’s not what you’re asking, Miss Leigh. You both heard of and have written the stories that have made me out to be an irresponsible child of wealth. And I’m not denying those allegations, but things aren’t always as they seem. You know how people say that you learn from your mistakes? As the head of a company, you must be able to take risks, confident risks, but mistakes come at a much greater cost. You make a wrong decision and thousands of people could lose their jobs. Now, while I’m still at a point where my mistakes affect no one but myself, I’m testing my boundaries. Even my little poker night, which was completely legal by the way, was just a way for me to learn responsibility, strategies, and tactics. I organized, recruited, delegated, collected, distributed, and profited. Those are all things that are now not foreign to me. I can take these lessons I have learned and roll them into a bigger project. I can take bigger risks. In no way am I saying that I will be ready to preside over Stoneguard Holdings tomorrow, but when that day does come, I will have taken every step necessary to ensure confidence in myself and everyone who will report to me.
OMITTED
AL: That was… wow.
TS: See why I suggested that you start small?
AL: So you’ve done this before?
TS: Nope, just practiced. This is just another thing on my checklist.
AL: Things to do before you become CEO?
TS: Something like that.
AL: Tell me, what’s your favorite thing to do on a Sunday?
OMITTED
TS: That’s a much better opening question: simple, original, and yet still personal.
AL: Ha. Thanks. It feels much better. Are you going to answer it?
TS: I will.
TS: Nothing. Honestly. I never want to be one of those people who work their entire lives. I’ve grown up surrounded by these people, as I’m sure you can imagine, and I have watched them slowly deteriorate over the years. I have watched as they forgot why they started working in the first place. I have watched as they forgot that money only goes so far. For that reason, I don’t work on Sundays. I started this habit when I was still a teenager, and I have yet to stray from it. It never mattered to me if there was a test or paper due that Monday. I worked hard the rest of the week so that my Sundays would be free.
AL: So then, for what do you save your Sundays?
TS: Relaxing, reading, taking a stroll on the beach, spending time with my family… but really I’m just keeping up the habit so that I don’t turn into those people I have been watching for so many years. I hope to one day have children of my own, and I want them to know me.
AL: Are you saying you don’t know your father?
TS: I didn’t say that. I know exactly who my father is.
OMITTED
AL: Care to enlighten us?
TS: This is one of those questions that I would like to save for another time.
AL: You said I could ask you anything.
TS: Ashley, please. Not this.
AL: Since this is a short column, I’d like to ask you one more question.
TS: Ask away.
AL: Sitting here, you seem calm, collected, and determined. You know exactly who you want to be. So, why not take it now? Why the parties, the drugs, the girls?
TS: Because I can. Call it a privilege or a curse, but my life is decided for me. I learned at a very young age what my path would be. You, Ashley, you need to make a name for yourself. You need to go to school, take on odd jobs to pay the bills, volunteer at homeless shelters to show that you’re giving of your time, network with people who could possibly help you along the way… I mean the list goes on. Then, in your free time, you can follow your dream. You can write about the politics of third world countries, find different
outlets to submit your work to, and then pray your pieces get published. Most likely, they won’t right away, so you’ll have to keep trying, keep writing, keep meeting people. Your path is a long one, and once you’re sure it’s the one you want to take, you have to focus your way down it. Mine will still be there when I’m ready to take that sprint. So right now, I play. I take risks. I do all the things I will not be able to do once I start my race.
AL: Are you trying to make me jealous by saying that your life is so much easier than mine?
OMITTED
TS: That’s another question.
AL: It’s part two of the same question.
TS: You’re pretty slick.
AL: I know.
TS: Not at all. Sure, the money, the stability is all there, but think about this: when you were growing up, your parents told you that you could do anything you set your mind to, right?
AL: Yes.
TS: You told them you wanted to be an astronaut, a doctor, the president, a pop singer… and they told you to follow your dreams. Right?
Billionaire Badboy Page 6
