The Guru (Trillionaire Boys' Club Book 6)

by Aubrey Parker

  “Just watching TV.” She laughs and tells someone to get off. I get the feeling Aiden is beside her, probably grabbing her boob. “Is the seminar over yet?” Then she seems to remember the time difference and says, “I guess it would be. You going to bed or what?”

  “Soon.”

  “Alone?”

  I give her a slightly less immature version of Hardy-har-har.

  “So what’s up?”

  “I want a promotion.”

  Now Jamie laughs.

  “I’m serious. Or maybe not a promotion — just an expanded role, I guess. I don’t need a fancy title or a raise.”

  There’s a beat, then Jamie says, “Hang on a sec.”

  There’s shuffling and a few laughed mutterings of Stop! as Jamie extricates herself from the couch and, probably, Aiden’s wandering hands. I hear her cross the echoing hardwood of one large house or another — there are so many in Forage’s hoard — then a door closes, and leather sighs.

  Things are finally quiet. She’s probably moved to her office, either to keep love-play from interrupting our exchange or because she’s about to tell me some stuff that she technically shouldn’t.

  As if Aiden would care.

  “What’s really going on, Caitlin?”

  “I just … well, you’ve been to Anthony’s events a bunch of times, right?”

  “Of course. It’s half privilege and half obligation. On one hand I get to go because I’m Anthony’s favorite project. On the other, I’ve sometimes had to go, in the way that daughters sometimes get dragged to Daddy’s office. Except that instead of rolling my eyes at conference calls and TPS reports, I twiddled my braids and rolled my eyes at life-changing breakthroughs.”

  “My point is, you know how these seminars are. And … well … now I do, too.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Jamie says knowingly. “And?”

  “I just feel … you know. Uplifted.”

  “Drank all the Kool-Aid, have you?”

  “Hey,” I say, putting a hand on my hip, “let me have my moment. Not everyone is as jaded about this stuff as you are. Do you know how hard it is for me of all people to admit to feeling moved?”

  “So you’re having fun?” Jamie says, dropping the too-good-for-it act. Of course she believes in what Anthony does, or else she wouldn’t be running his foundation.

  I exhale, actually closing my eyes, slowly shaking my head.

  I’m in the lobby, moving into a corner with plush chairs and no one around to overhear my gushing. I sit, then tell her all about it: the whole day, from A to Z. I’m shameless. And Jamie, bless her heart, pretends that she’s surprised and hasn’t heard it all before. Growing up with Anthony Ross gives her immunity to his brand of explosive self-help. I’ve always envied it. Being not at all immune to his energy is one reason my crush on Anthony has always run so deep.

  “I’ve never experienced anything like it,” I finish. “I just want to be part of it.”

  “You are part of it, Cait. You already work for the foundation — over my objections to being your boss.”

  “More a part of it.”

  “You’re doing all of our writing. We’re already implementing your marketing suggestions.”

  “I don’t want to just work for the foundation, Jamie. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I love the foundation. But what Anthony does at these huge events? I know how corny it sounds, but … he’s changing lives. And I want to be a part of that.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with Caitlin?”

  “Don’t make fun of me,” I say, knowing I sound annoyed but unable to help myself. “This is a big deal for me. I’ve just embraced a part of myself I’ve been denying because I thought I was supposed to be a lawyer, finally allowing myself some creative fulfillment while declaring my parents’ law school money officially wasted.”

  “Meh. They can afford it.”

  “I haven’t just been writing copy for the foundation, either. I’ve been ramping up my creative stuff —like, my fiction. Part of that is what you told me about this writer who’s got Anthony and Eros paying attention. Alexa Whatsherface?”

  Jamie’s voice is suddenly hushed. “You’re not supposed to know about her. About any of that.”

  “Really? Maybe you shouldn’t have told me, then.”

  “I was trying to encourage you. After you broke up with Rudy and then found out about your mom, you seemed like you needed something to believe in.”

  “Well, consider me encouraged. But that’s what I’m saying, Jamie. It’s like … oh, hell, I know how it sounds, but these past few months have been kind of a rebirth for me. I dropped the shitty job and started the foundation gig. And at the same time, I started writing. Like: really writing. I’ve been putting in around ten hours a week past what I’m doing for work.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I dumped Rudy, whereas my daddy issues had me sticking with him for way longer than I should have.”

  “‘Daddy issues’?” Jamie repeats. Not the sort of phrase I normally say.

  “And that’s something else. I just told my father off.”

  “You what?”

  “It was crazy. I called him up and told him that he’s been a total asshole to Mom and all us kids. Anthony told me to do it.”

  “Anthony told you to—”

  “It’s okay. It’s better than okay. I’m feeling great. Amazing, actually. Inspired. New job, new creative life, reevaluating everything with my parents, broke up with the shitty boyfriend … it’s a whole new Caitlin.”

  “I guess so.” To Jamie’s credit, she sounds truly impressed, rather than preparing to mock me as per our usual rapport.

  “So I want to get on board, you know? Not just with the foundation. With … I don’t know … the whole Anthony Ross thing.”

  “There’s no way, Cait. His events are clockwork, everything down to a science. There is literally zero room for anything different.”

  “I thought Anthony was all about innovating and improving?”

  “He has a machine in place for implementing innovations and improvements, too. Don’t get me started.”

  “Maybe I could—”

  “Trust me. There’s no room for you there. I’m glad you’re enjoying Fate In Your Palm, truly. And I don’t mean to make fun of you. I know how those events are, and I honestly believe they change lives. But it’s a closed box.”

  “I’ll become a certified Anthony Ross coach.”

  “The certification takes twelve months.”

  “Fine.”

  “And there’s a three-year waiting list.”

  “You can move me up. Put in a good word.”

  “I have no sway in the company’s Events or Coaching wings. Or the company at all. I run the foundation. The foundation, Caitlin. You want to step up work at the foundation, I’m your girl. Otherwise, my ins with Anthony mean precisely dick. He knows better than to interfere with the day-to-day. Ask Anthony how easy it would be for him, personally, to change the schedule at one of those events or to add a coach on the fly. Go ahead. I dare you.”

  I sigh.

  But then I get another idea.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CAITLIN

  “HEY,” I SAY, “IF THERE’S no room in the Ross organization, then how about all the stuff with his Syndicate? He mentioned it to me in the car; he knows I know, so I’ve got that going for me. And I already like what my girl Alexa is putting down.”

  Jamie’s hushed, shut-the-fuck-up voice is back in an instant. “I’m serious. You’re not supposed to know about that. I’m not even supposed to know about that.”

  “I think they need to patch the leaks in their cone of silence. There’s a hot dog vendor here who was asking about the real levers that move the world, and I may have dropped Lucy White’s name to get extra mustard.”

  “Don’t even joke about that!”

  “Because Lucy is, like, half the power behind her brother’s company, but isn’t in the insider’s circle. Yo
u know, that Boys’ Club inside the Syndicate? Don’t you find it kind of sexist that it’s all boy billionaires? Sista, represent!”

  Jamie slowly exhales. She knows I’m like quicksand: the more you struggle, the faster I smother you in obnoxious sarcasm. It’s my incredibly effective defense mechanism.

  “Look,” she says. “I know I have loose lips. But seriously, that’s all top secret — the Syndicate, the Trillionaire Boys’ Club, all of it. Everything you just said. Is there anyone near you right now?”

  “No. But honestly Jamie, it’s—”

  “I’ll make you a deal. You’re my friend. You work with both me and Anthony, and I’ve already told you that he’s getting in deeper with these Syndicate people. So yeah, the cat is out of the bag. But you need to swear to me — on your mom, your dad, your brothers, Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Zeus, Satan if you need to — but swear that you won’t discuss this with anyone but me. And that when we do talk about it, nobody else can be around unless I’ve specifically said it’s okay. Swear and I’ll tell you more, because …” She hesitates and I wonder if I’ve hit on a sore spot.She swallows. “I really need someone to blab to, anyway, so I can get my head around a few things. Okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you swear?”

  “Fine,” I say. Then I add: “You’re no fun.”

  “All right.” Jamie exhales, resetting now that our devil’s bargain’s been established. “So … okay. You want to get involved? Not just with the foundation, but with the life-changing stuff?”

  I sit up. Now I’m interested. “Yes. Of course.”

  “What do you know about the Ross Foundation’s operation?”

  “What you’ve told me, what’s in the annual report. We’re a nonprofit feeding the hungry.”

  “Among other charitable activities,” Jamie says. “But Anthony isn’t picky. He wants to ease suffering and improve lives, whatever that might mean.”

  “And?”

  “Well, for example, did you hear about that Sally Laveaux Kickstarter campaign?”

  “I think so. She wants to cure AIDS or something.”

  “Close. A guy named Clive Spooner wants to cure AIDS. I think.”

  “Does he or doesn’t he?” I ask.

  “I really only know the public version of things — that Sally made this big call onstage at the Academy Awards for Clive Spooner’s drive to cure AIDS, and then launched this mega-funded Kickstarter for it. And from the mumblings I’ve heard around the foundation, it looks like we’re going to receive some of that money.”

  “We’re getting some of the money?” This feels out of the blue. “The Ross Foundation is trying to cure AIDS?”

  “That’s what’s messy. No, not really. But we’re supporting the effort.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I might find out when the money comes in. But … shit. It’s a lot of money, Cait. Literal billions. But it’s all so confusing. It’s not actually money to cure AIDS; it’s money to build some sort of a facility everyone thinks will be able to cure AIDS.”

  “Why does it take so much money just to build a research facility?”

  “Because Spooner wants to build it on the moon.”

  I blink a few times. I don’t have to say that she must be kidding, because clearly she is.

  “And second,” Jamie says, “if Spooner is the guy building the whatever, why is the Anthony Ross Foundation involved at all?”

  “Maybe there are hungry people with AIDS on the moon,” I suggest.

  “It all comes back to this Syndicate. Clive Spooner is in it, same as Anthony and Aiden and some others.” She draws another deep breath. “Remember a few months ago, when I flew up to Seattle for the first time? It was right after I took over at the foundation, before we hired you. You were calling me all the time, slobbering all over Anthony’s cock and saying how much you wanted to work for the foundation. Kind of like what ended up happening.”

  “I was actually attempting to slobber all over your cock, since you were the one hiring. Or possibly Aiden’s, since you wouldn’t talk to me because I was so annoying.”

  “I went to Seattle for a meeting between Anthony’s company, Forage, and a company called Eros.”

  “The porn company?”

  “Don’t say that around Anthony,” Jamie says. “You know he feels about the p word. He’s got that bug about embracing sexuality as normal and how we all need to stop feeling so guilty. Porn is derogatory. Eros produces erotica.’”

  I nod through this. I’ve heard Anthony’s soliloquies. As much of a Boy Scout as Anthony seems, he’s supposed to be one hell of a dynamo — and more sexually enlightened than the baddest of bad boys. His utilitarian attitude toward sex, as witnessed by the date I think I broke up tonight — and a big secret “yay” for that — is just one example. Anthony wants to free the world from everything, and sexual shame is just one more item on his list.

  “Anyway, the Syndicate is brewing something between those three: The Ross Institute, Forage, and Eros. There was a lot of talk about algorithms and avatars.”

  “You lost me,” I say.

  “I don’t get it either. It’s above my pay grade. But the point is, there were seven people in that meeting: me, Aiden, Onyx, Anthony, Daniel Rice from Eros, his wife Bridget, who runs a lot of the day-to-day, and some guy named Parker Barnes from the Eros board.”

  “Okay.”

  “I missed a lot of the unspoken stuff, but the whole meeting ended up turning into the room versus Barnes — all six of us against him. Barnes tried to turn Aiden on me, so I was glad that he got his ass handed to him. But there was more to it, stuff I didn’t understand. Some big Eros thing that Barnes was really invested in, that didn’t pan out because Anthony and Forage decided to work together and leave Eros out of it. But even though Eros got cut, Daniel and Bridget were happy. I got the impression that Daniel and Bridget had crossed swords with Barnes before.”

  “So?” I ask.

  “Well, Anthony wants to change the world for the better, right? That’s what the meeting was about. It’s why he’s involved in this Syndicate thing in the first place. Somehow the rest of it ties together: the Ross Foundation and the good works it does, the Kickstarter, Clive Spooner and his crazy-balls plan. That whole secret group has something going, and right now it’s all coming together. I can only see one piece at a time, and there’s a bunch I’m officially not supposed to know — and wouldn’t know if Aiden didn’t tell me.”

  Something is bothering me, creeping up the back of my neck like a bad vibe. I don’t know what it is, but everything Jamie has told me is making me feel both suffocated and watched. And then I realize why that is: She’s not just telling me to unload. She’s telling me because somehow, some way, this has something to do with me.

  “You’re feeling pretty high on life right now, right?” Jamie asks. “High on life, and high on Anthony Ross and the ways he sincerely wants to improve the world?”

  I nod even though she can’t see me, mumble my agreement even though that creeping feeling is only getting worse. Why didn’t I choose somewhere more isolated to talk? Why did I call her on a cell phone, which can surely be tapped? I know that everyone’s eyes are on me. I’m starting to wish I hadn’t pushed the issue. I should have called to tell her how hot I am for Anthony, and how badly I wanted him to ask me for that drink. He wants to free the world from sexual slavery? Fine. I’m eager to ride his rocket, and it can mean as little as he wants it to.

  I can be enlightened, if it means a night with Anthony Ross.

  “Not long after I got back from Seattle,” Jamie says, “Aiden told me that Forage — and Anthony’s plan — would need Eros after all. They all spit in Parker’s face, but in the end they had to extend a hanky to wipe it off. Since then, he’s been more involved in what I’m doing.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Barnes is butting into your business? At the foundation?”

  “Yes. Because the Kickstarter
money is going through the foundation. And because the Kickstarter, in turn, is somehow tied to this guy Clive Spooner … who, by the way, also seems to be in the Syndicate with Anthony.”

  I take a moment to digest this. I wasn’t asking for conspiracy theories, and don’t want them. I just want to uplift people in the way Anthony made me feel uplifted today. I want a job improving the world, not deciphering the motivations of secret societies.

  But Jamie isn’t done.

  “It’s not just Barnes I’m having to deal with, Caitlin. That Alexa character I told you about is part of it, too. I don’t think she’s just a writer. And there’s someone else she works with — I don’t know much, only that I keep hearing the name Olivia. And I get a feeling that there’s more to this plan than Anthony realizes.”

  “Jamie, I don’t understand why you’re telling me any of—”

  “You know how Anthony is. He’s so optimistic, sometimes I don’t think he really believes there are bad people in the world — and even the great Anthony Ross can be used. He has a plan, right? And the Syndicate says it’s on-board?”

  “If you say so,” I tell her. “But what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “You want to work with Anthony? You want to be an important part of his mission?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re feeling empowered right now, and want to help Anthony help the world?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then help me. Let me slot you into the foundation as … I don’t know … some sort of liaison.”

  “A liaison? Why?”

  “So you can help me figure out this weird AIDS money thing. I mean, shit, Cait — the bottom line is, let’s do our best to keep Anthony’s plan as Anthony’s plan.”

  The creeping feeling is stronger. My heart is beating faster — and not just at the idea of working more closely with Anthony.

  “As opposed to whose plan?” I ask.

  And Jamie says, “Parker Barnes’, of course.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  ANTHONY

  BY THE TIME I’VE TAPPED out a reply to Amber, Caitlin is gone.