Billionaire Vacation

by Nella Tyler

  "I sometimes feel the same way," he said softly.

  I turn my head slightly, trying to look at him, but couldn't quite manage it. "You can do anything you want, Ben," I said. “You can do anything, be anything you want. You don't have to worry about money. You don't have to worry about paying rent, how you're going to pay the next electric bill, or put groceries in your refrigerator." I shifted my body and turned to face him, my breasts now pressed up against his chest and my arm wrapped around his own shoulder. Our faces were only inches apart and I stared into his eyes.

  "What is it you want out of life, Ben? Seriously?"

  "Seriously? I have no idea. Right now, I'm just focused on having a little fun. In a year or two, who knows? I realize that I've been living without any purpose for a while, but why not?"

  "Why not indeed?" I whispered. My eyes traveled from his down to his lips to the pulse throbbing in his neck.

  "Actually, Maggie, I'm kind of glad you got fired."

  I froze. My heart pumped, skipped a beat. My eyes shot back up to his face, wide with surprise. "What?" I stiffened. No, no, no, no, I thought. He couldn't mean it the way it sounded. Nevertheless, I tilted my head back, as if trying to understand what he had just said. My mouth had gone dry. "You're glad I got fired?" He tried to pull me closer, back to the point where we lay skin against skin, but I resisted.

  "I didn't mean it to come out that way," he began. "I just can't seem to say what's in my head sometimes," he said. "It just never comes out right."

  "I'm not glad I got fired," I said. "Actually, I'm terrified." I wasn't about to tell him about my dire financial situation. I didn't want him feeling sorry for me – or even worse, offering to help. "But starting today, I'll begin my job search. I'll find something, even if I have to work two jobs."

  He shook his head. "I didn't mean it the way it came out, Maggie," he sighed. "All I meant by that is that now you have more freedom."

  I frowned. How could he think I would have had more freedom? "In order to feel like I have more freedom, Ben, I have to have security. I don't understand what you're trying to say." Despite my earlier feelings of bliss, contentment, and affection for him, I once again began to wonder if he could even relate to my position. In fact, I began to feel an inkling of anger tickle my brain. He shrugged. I actually got the impression that he had no concept of what it was like to be out of work.

  I tried to explain. "No work, no money. No money, no rent payment. Shall I go on?" I began to feel my blood pressure rise. How could he be so lackadaisical about it? Had he never, ever had to work for anything in his life? I think he saw my expression and seemed to realize that once again, he hadn't been able to correctly convey what he meant. He rubbed my arm.

  "What I mean, Maggie, is that now you can do whatever you want."

  Now I was starting to get annoyed. "What is it with you, Ben?" I asked. “One minute, you're the sweetest, kindest, most compassionate man I've ever met, and in the next, you say things like that."

  He stiffened. "What do you mean, Maggie? I just meant to imply that now you can do what you choose to."

  I sat up, not even caring that I bared myself to his view. I couldn't quite keep the frustration of my voice, and once again the warmth of tears burgeoned behind my eyes. "How in the hell can I do whatever I want, Ben?" I said, my voice rising in frustration. How in the world could someone who had nothing try to make someone who had everything understand? "I have to make a living, Ben. I have to find another job. It took me awhile to find that job at the casino. I have rent to pay you know. I have bills to pay. I don't have money growing out of my ass!"

  He also sat up. "Maggie, I didn't mean to imply-"

  "Ben, you tell me. What exactly is it that I'm going to be able to do so easily, and so freely, when I don't have a job? I'm not really comfortable discussing my financial situation with you, but I will tell you that I don't have much of a safety net. So you tell me what you think I'm going to be able to do so well when I don't have billions of dollars in the bank like you do?"

  I hadn't meant my words to come out just like that, but this was ridiculous. Here was someone who never had to worry about anything, financially anyway, and he was talking to me about having fun and not worrying about money.

  "No, Maggie, once again I'm…I'm twisting things around. What I mean to say is that you don't have to do anything."

  I stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. "What, I'm supposed to just stay at home, wait for the landlord to kick me out?" He laughed. My blood boiled. "There's not anything funny about this, Ben! I'm in big trouble here. I got fired! I don't have a job. I don't have a paycheck coming in after my termination check arrives. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "Of course I do, Maggie," he said. "I'm sorry it came out that way. I didn't mean to give you the impression that it didn't matter or that I didn't care. I do. What I mean to say is that you don't have to do anything because you can move in with me. You can enjoy life without having to worry about-"

  "Move in with you?" I gasped. My mind is spinning. He was asking me to move in with him, just like that? My eyes widened. "Ben, I don't even know what kind of a relationship we have, and you're telling me I should move in with you? We hardly know anything about each other-"

  "And, don't you think it's about time we change that?" he asked with a shrug. "Move in with me, Maggie. I’ll take care of you, and you won't have to worry about anything. You can just enjoy life like you were meant to-"

  I scrambled off the bed, my eyes wide, reaching for my clothes. I had never been so insulted in my life! I headed for the bathroom.

  "Maggie! What did I say? Maggie!"

  I slammed the bathroom door. I stomped to the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing a handful of it onto my face. My temper was rising. Who the hell did he think he was? What was he thinking? That I was going to be a kept woman? A mistress? What did he think I was? A gold digger? Out of the blue, he tells me to move in with him? What the hell? It was so difficult, and often frustrating, to deal with Ben. One minute he could be so kind and considerate, and the next, he acted like such an ass.

  "Maggie," he said, knocking softly on the bathroom door. "I didn't mean to-"

  "Let me get dressed, Ben," I said, as calmly as I could. "Meet me in the living room, will you?"

  I didn't hear any other noise, so I assumed he was out in the bedroom getting dressed. I stood staring at myself in the mirror, still naked. My skin was rubbed a glowing red in places, and I felt sore and tender in my nether regions. My breasts still showed signs of our recent lovemaking. Despite my frustration and irritation at Ben’s latest comment, I couldn't help but feel the tingle of desire sweep through me at the thought of his lips on my nipples. I shook my head, turned away from the mirror, and after quickly washing up in the sink; I put my clothes back on.

  He had no grasp or concept of reality. To simply state that all my troubles could be solved by moving in with him? Ridiculous! I had to make him understand that while his offer was not meant to be insulting, it had been. By the time I was finished dressing, I splashed another handful of water on my face and ran my fingers through my hair. If I took my time, I felt I would be able to explain things to him more clearly.

  I emerged from the bathroom, saw that he had picked up his clothes and had, as I requested, gone out into the living room. I stared at the rumpled bedspread, finding it hard to believe that only minutes ago, we had both been enveloped in the throes of passion. Why did we do this? Why did we find ourselves inexorably drawn to one another, making mad, passionate love one minute, and then arguing the next? I had never behaved this way with my husband. I couldn't understand it.

  By the time I emerged into the living room, he was sitting casually on the couch, one arm spread against the back of it, the other on the armrest, one leg crossed and bent over his knee. He eyed me carefully, not quite sure what was going on. At least, that's what I gathered from his expression.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I h
eld up my hand. "No, hear me out, okay?"

  He stared at me a moment, but then nodded. "We barely know each other, Ben, and you're asking me to move in with you?" I waited.

  He nodded. "What's the big deal, Maggie? If you moved in with me, you could do anything you wanted. You wouldn’t have to worry about money, about rent, about anything-"

  I sighed and closed my eyes, counted to three, and then stood in front of him, my hands on my hips. "That sounds an awful lot like a kept woman, Ben," I said, striving to keep my voice calm and soft.

  He leaned forward, placing both his feet on the floor, shaking his head. "Maggie, I know how hard you work. Don't you think you deserve a break? Don't you think you deserve to be pampered little? I can give you that," he said, spreading his hands out. "I don't understand what the big deal is."

  "Ben, have you ever had to worry about money?"

  He frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  " You've never had to worry about what you're going to eat, where you're going to sleep, how you're going to pay for health insurance, or anything else, have you?"

  "Again, I ask what that has to with anything," he said.

  "We haven't even discussed our relationship, or whatever it is we have. We know very little about each other, and yet you're asking me to move in with you?"

  "It's not like I'm asking you to marry me or anything, Maggie, it's just an offer, so you don't have to worry about anything for a while."

  Now that hurt. I couldn't believe that he had said that. I shook my head in dismay. "So how long do I live with you, Ben? A week? A month? And what happens after that? When I look down the path into my future, I don't see piles of money just waiting for me to spend. I'm always going to need to look for a job or get an education so that I can get a stable, steady paycheck. Do you understand that?"

  "Maggie, I don't understand why you're making-"

  I lost my temper. "Because I don't need a vacation, Ben! I need a future! I need to know that I can take care of myself. Just because holding a job means nothing to you, that doesn't mean that it means nothing to me. I had a good job at the casino! I was getting by. Maybe that's not very important to you, but it's all I have right now. It's all I can manage. And now that's gone! I can't waste time just lollygagging around. I have to think about the bills that are due tomorrow, the day after, and next week, and next year!"

  "But that's what I'm saying, Maggie," he insisted. "I can take care of you. You don't have to worry about money-"

  I interrupted, my temper getting the better of me. "I'm not a trophy wife, or a kept woman, or a mistress, or anything of the sort!" I shook my head and paced toward the window, then turned around to look at him. He stared up at me in surprise. "Don't you understand that, Ben? I'm not a gold digger! I'm not looking for a handout! I want to make my own way in life! Never again will I allow myself to rely on a man to take care of me!" I emphasized those last words. Shaking my head, I glared at him. "What makes you think that I would appreciate being taken care of? And what happens if – or when – our relationship fizzles-"

  "Maggie, I care about you," he interrupted. "I thought you cared about me, too."

  "I do, dammit!" I nearly shouted. "But that's neither here there, Ben. Do you understand?

  "I don't," he said, rising. "And I didn't mean it like that," he insisted.

  Before I knew it, we were arguing, with me trying to get him to understand that I wasn't about to be a woman who relied on a man to take care of her, while he tried to convince me that that's not at all what he had meant to imply, but continued to offer me assurances that he could take care of the bills.

  After a few minutes of the back-and-forth, I felt incredibly stressed out, tears burning my eyes, and my heart pounding furiously. Why was it that we argued so much, especially after we made such wonderful love together? Was that all Ben could understand? The physical aspect of our relationship? If he didn't understand me by now, what was the point of trying to convince him?

  Finally, I'd had enough. "It's time for you to leave, Ben," I said. "We're getting nowhere, and I don't need all this additional stress right now."

  He said nothing for several moments, but stared at me. He nodded, gestured a goodbye, and left my apartment. The minute the door closed softly behind him, I burst into tears.

  *

  The following morning, I woke up feeling as if I had been run over by a steamroller. My emotions were a mess. I had forgotten how exhausting a relationship could be. And, that was exactly the problem. The fact that I felt this way only re-emphasized that I did have strong feelings for Ben. I just wished that somehow, he could understand where I was coming from. We came from two different worlds, two different backgrounds, but could we find a middle ground?

  As I was sipping my coffee, I realized that I wasn't really mad at Ben. And I became more convinced by the minute that the anger I had displayed toward him had nothing to do with him per se. In fact, I was touched by his display of generosity. Still, I finally realized that his offer had made me feel like a failure. As if I couldn't take care of myself. As if I would never be able to find a job that paid better than minimum wage. That my life was destined to be lived paycheck to paycheck.

  All that had been running through my mind when Ben made his offer, which had followed the casino boss’s comment that I was nothing, a dime a dozen dealer, somebody who could be replaced in the blink of an eye. I had served the casino loyally for years! To be treated so callously, as if I were nothing more than a troublesome bug under his foot, had left me feeling wounded, sensitive, and on the defensive.

  It had been wrong for me to take out my frustrations on Ben. In fact, I should've known better than to even allow him to come over. I knew how I tended to feel when I was hurt or feeling betrayed. I should have given it a couple of days. Still, it had happened and I couldn't go backwards. I wondered if I should call him and try to explain why I had blown up yesterday, but then realized doing so would probably be pointless. Again, I was still too raw emotionally to deal with anything today.

  So it was that I ventured out of my apartment only to purchase a few groceries and grab a couple of newspapers. For the remainder of the day, I would busy myself looking for a job, going over my budget, and figuring out exactly how much time I had before I would be in deep, deep trouble.

  Later in the afternoon, I received a text message. When I glanced at my phone, which I might have to cut service off for soon, I realized it was from Ben.

  I'm sorry, Maggie. Can we talk?

  Can you come over tomorrow morning, about 10 o'clock?

  I thought about it for a moment, and then realized that I did want to see him. Maybe by then I would be able to better explain why I had gotten so upset with him. Maybe it was time to lay all the cards out on the table. If I wanted a relationship with Ben, and he wanted one with me, then we had to start being completely honest with each other. That was the only way I would even consider continuing to see him. No more of these guessing games. I had to make him understand how I felt. I needed to know how he felt. Neither one of us needed to be jumping to conclusions. Either we got to know each other better or we moved on. It was as simple as that.

  I texted him back, telling him that yes, I could go over to his house the following morning. Maybe it was time to clear the air. If we were going to break up, it would be better to do it now rather than drag things along. I no longer worked at the casino. He was no longer allowed there. Could this odd relationship we had last beyond the doors of the casino? Time would tell.

  *

  Still wanting to conserve gas and money, I took the bus to Ben's neighborhood the following morning. I had spent most of yesterday circling potential job opportunities in the paper, going over my finances, and generally trying to put myself in a good place mentally, so to speak. I needed to be positive and proactive. Sitting on my butt and feeling sorry for myself was certainly not going to help me get anywhere.

  As I walked up Ben’s winding driveway, I was
beginning to feel a little more optimistic. When I reached the crest, I noticed a car in the driveway. It seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Then, much to my surprise, the front door opened and a woman rushed out. I stopped at the side of the driveway where it met the front yard, standing a bit in the shadows of the trees that lined the side of the driveway. As the woman turned toward me, I gasped in shock. Savannah? What was she doing here? I couldn't believe my eyes. She was smiling a smug smile, as if she had not a worry in the world.

  I stepped deeper into the shadows as Savannah started her car, pulled around the driveway, and then headed back toward the hill. I didn’t think she saw me. As she passed, I heard music blaring on her radio. She was laughing. I watched the car until it disappeared around a curve, my heart thudding dully in my chest. I glanced back at Ben’s house.

  What the hell was going on? I felt crushed. Was Ben having a relationship with Savannah? Were they planning something? I felt a headache begin behind my eyes, and my blood pressure began to rise. Here I went again. I was tempted to walk up to Ben's front door and demand to know what was going on, but I didn't really want to know. Savannah was here, at his house. She had no reason for being here – other than maybe Ben was just stringing me along. Was he seeing Savannah? If he was, how long had that been going on?

  I didn't know what to think and I felt so confused and torn that I knew better than to go up to Ben's front door demanding to know what was going on. I knew, like yesterday, that I wasn't thinking straight. So, standing in the shadows of the trees for several moments, I debated with myself, and then decided that I couldn't talk to Ben right now. I would likely say something I would regret, or worse yet, he would make denials that I didn't want to hear.