The Money Block

by Holly West

  He was intuitive, the one person who could cut through her defenses. She loved that about him. But she also knew where a back rub would lead and she wasn’t feeling it. Plus, the thought of tequila was enough to make her retch again.

  Rachel moved away from him. “I really need to get some sleep.”

  “That’s been happening a lot lately. Been at least a few weeks since we did it, hasn’t it?”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t know, Sam. You tell me. You seem to keep better track than I do.”

  He didn’t say anything, but she saw the hurt in his eyes. He rolled over to his side of the bed and turned off the light.

  Chapter Five

  Mack lay on the weight bench and stared up at the two-hundred and sixty-five pounds on the rack suspended above him. He steeled himself, pressed twelve, then re-racked it.

  He’d left Tahoe a day earlier than he’d planned so that he could meet with Geena and Maverick’s teacher, Mrs. Ornish. It hadn’t gone well. Maverick was supposedly bullying another child. That was bad enough, but Geena had somehow convinced Mrs. Ornish that their son’s behavioral problems were all due to Mack’s shortcomings as a father. At least that’s the way he took it. How good of a dad could he be with only thirty percent custody? That was all he could squeeze out of Geena in their preliminary agreement. Anyway, it wasn’t his fault if the other kid couldn’t stand up for himself.

  He unracked the bar and stabilized it. Days like this, the only thing that helped to settle his nerves was lifting. Sex, too, but he’d take care of that later. For now, he needed to get a good work out in, maybe go a few rounds on the speed bag and pretend it was Geena’s face. He wasn’t one for violence against women, but damn, Geena tempted him.

  He brought the bar down, then up. One. Two. Three. Four.

  Mrs. Ornish suggested they all meet with the school counselor. Fuck that. If the boy needed counseling, he’d get the best psychologist in the area, not some two-dollar government employee who couldn’t cut it as a real therapist. And anyway, the public schools in their neighborhood were crap—maybe it was time they look into private education. Geena always argued when he brought it up, claimed they lived in the area’s best school district, blah blah blah. This time, he’d insist.

  Breath in. Five. Breath out. Six. Seven. Eight.

  Fatigue was beginning to set in. It was the sweet spot where he still had some energy but wanted desperately to quit. Instead, he finished the set and decided he had a bit left for the treadmill. He was a mile in when his cell phone buzzed with an unfamiliar three-three-two number.

  He answered. “Mack Foley.”

  “Mack, this is Esme Adams. I hope it’s not too late to call. I got your email and wanted to get back to you as quickly as possible.”

  He paused the machine and worked to catch his breath. “Esme, good to hear from you. Excuse my panting, you caught me in the middle of my workout. How was your trip back to New York?”

  “It was great, thanks for asking.” She paused, then said, “I was surprised to hear from you—I didn’t realize you were interested in investing or I would’ve stuck around to answer any questions you might have.”

  “No problem.” Mack wiped his brow with a towel. “Hey, I’m curious. Have you heard from Liam White?”

  “Liam White?”

  “The guy in the hot tub with us last night. He really talked up Yella’s prospects. You ought to hire him.”

  “I’m still going through my email, actually. You wouldn’t believe how it piles up when I haven’t checked it for a day.”

  “He and I had dinner last night. You missed a good meal, by the way. He convinced me that cryptocurrency is something I might need to get in on.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Can I answer any other questions for you?”

  He’d done a bit of googling that afternoon and found Yella’s website and some complimentary independent forecasts on the company. There was also quite a bit of information about cryptocurrencies in general and he had a much better understanding of the subject now. “I read your white paper,” he said. “But I’d like to hear about it straight from you.”

  She launched into her spiel, much of which he already knew from his research. Yella was an app similar to Uber or Lyft that connected users directly with yellow cabs. It was the brainchild of a dispatcher who, frustrated with the industry’s losses due to the popularity of ride-sharing apps, decided that New York cabs needed to be brought into the twenty-first century.

  “Why not use Uber or Lyft?” Mack asked.

  “Yella is cheaper, for one. Travelers will save at least ten percent over its competitors. And people still have confidence in yellow cabs, it’s a known brand—”

  “No offense, but I’ve been to New York and those cabs suck.”

  Rachel chuckled. “That’s the stereotype but yellow cab drivers know the city better than any Uber driver I’ve used. They know the short cuts, the best times of day to take them, and they offer better service. But do you know the most important thing other ride-sharing apps are missing?”

  “Not off hand.”

  “The ability to pay with cryptocurrency. Yella is the only app of its kind. We’ll offer incentives to early adopters such as discounted fares, cross-promotions with related businesses, and once Yellabux is established, which, frankly, is where the real value for its investors is at, customers will be able to use Yellabux to buy other services, as well.”

  “I’m sold. What’s the next step?”

  “I’ll send you a link so you can download the Yella demo app and see how it works,” Rachel said. “Check it out and let me know what you think.”

  Chapter Six

  On Tuesday morning, Mack woke up to a text from Esme Adams saying that Liam White had indeed contacted her about investing in the Yellabux ICO. She didn’t divulge details but knowing Liam—and Mack thought he did—he was going to pull that trigger.

  He couldn’t get Esme off of his mind. He’d even downloaded her picture from the Yella website and saved it on his phone. Today, he opened his laptop and spent some quality time watching her strut her stuff in the Yellabux ICO video. Afterward, he wiped up with a tissue and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

  He was scheduled to meet with Geena later that morning to discuss Foley Fitness’s expansion into San Francisco. He’d sent her a detailed proposal on possible locations, the preparation of which had been his chief occupation the last few months. He was confident she’d agree to the expansion once she saw the numbers. Still, he arrived at the office early with a couple of acai protein smoothies, her favorite. He’d even remembered to grab a few extra packets of stevia in case her tooth was particularly sweet today.

  He walked in to find Geena already waiting in the conference room with the usual disapproving look on her face. Her bleached-blonde hair was cut in a sleek pixie, and at forty, she had the body of a woman half her age. Scratch that—her body was better than most women of any age. She was barely five-two but what she lacked in height, she made up for in pure muscle. Too short for traditional modeling, she’d turned to fitness modeling in her twenties, spending quite a bit of time at the spray tan salon as a result. These days, her skin was much closer to a natural human shade, which Mack preferred. What could he say? She was hot. Maybe not Esme Adams-level hot, but hot, all the same.

  Geena saw through the smoothie ruse immediately. “Trying to get on my good side?”

  Mack slid the drink across the table. “I wanted one for myself and thought you might want one, too.”

  “I just ate a protein bar. Have a seat.”

  Mack had been there less than two minutes and already he was annoyed. He didn’t need an invitation to sit in his own conference room. Why did Geena always have to be such a bitch? She claimed his multiple affairs broke up their marriage but what the hell was he supposed to do? She stopped sleeping with him after Mav was born. Their split was as much her fault as much as his.

  B
ut now was not the time to dwell on past grievances. He took the proffered seat and asked, “How’s Mav doing?”

  “He’s upset, of course. Acting out. You don’t know what a handful he can be sometimes.”

  She loved implying that she knew their son better than he did. “If you need help, you know I’m happy to take Mav any time, Geena.”

  “You can take him when it’s your turn.”

  It was always like this. Geena constantly complained about how hard it was to be a single, working mom when she knew full well he’d step up as much as she’d allow. The truth was she didn’t want him stepping in. She’d cut him out of Mav’s life altogether if it were up to her.

  He changed the subject. “Have you had a chance to look at the proposal?”

  “I did.”

  He waited for her to elaborate but she didn’t. “And?”

  “I told you from the beginning I was against moving into the San Francisco market.”

  Mack slapped his palm on the table. “The fuck are you talking about? Adding more locations was your idea.”

  “I said we should expand locally, maybe into Davis or Folsom. But San Francisco real estate is way too expensive for us to even consider—it doesn’t fit our business model.”

  “There’s no reason why we can can’t adapt our model to fit any location.” Mack thought about Esme Adams’ vision for Yella and wished Geena had one-tenth of her foresight. “That’s the whole point. We take Foley Fitness Centers into the luxury market and tap into a whole new client base. It’s all in the proposal.”

  Geena shook her head. “I’ve run the numbers. It won’t work.”

  Mack would never understand why Geena was so determined to hold him and the company back when it meant she was holding Maverick back, too. She had so much resentment toward him that she’d sacrifice her son’s future if it meant making him pay.

  He’d pay, all right. He’d make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

  Mack had already installed the Yella app and created an account. It was well-designed and easy to use, and he couldn’t help thinking that if cab companies had embraced the app model sooner, the industry might not have suffered the losses it had. Then again, dinosaurs had gone extinct for a reason. Yella might be too late to save a crumbling monolith from demolition.

  But when he considered the massive returns on other cryptocurrency ICOs, he didn’t want to look back in six months and regret not investing in Yellabux when he had the chance. He understood the inherent risks of investing in an ICO—lack of regulatory oversight, outrageous valuations with no track record—but he’d done his due diligence and with a working demo app and a well-defined business plan, Yella’s concept was more solid than most. His biggest problem was getting the money to invest in the first place. Taking cash out of Foley Fitness would require Geena’s approval, but after today’s meeting, he knew he’d never get it.

  The only other option he had was Maverick’s college fund. It was their only remaining joint account that didn’t require both of their signatures for a withdrawal. He felt a pang of guilt as the teller completed the transfer. What kind of asshole steals from his own son? But he wasn’t stealing, not really. He was doing this for Maverick. He’d pay the funds back—and more—before Geena ever noticed they were missing. She’d see the withdrawal on their statement—no way to hide that—but what could she say when the balance had increased exponentially?

  As he completed the necessary steps for opening an account in the Yella app, he felt increasingly confident. He’d been tethered to Geena and her petty, closed-minded business practices for too long. When he made the final click and became an investor in Yellabux, he was one step closer to freedom.

  Chapter Seven

  After Arjun texted them with the news that Mack Foley had invested fifty thousand dollars on Yella’s ICO, Sam insisted on celebrating with a bottle of Dom Perignon. They stopped at the supermarket for the Champagne and fixings for an impromptu dinner party, then drove to Arjun’s place, a tiny one-bedroom apartment in San Mateo that smelled like twenty-something male and second-hand furniture.

  They spread the feast out on Arjun’s kitchen table and Sam popped the bottle’s cork, laughing when a burst of foam spurted from the top. He poured a couple of inches into three juice glasses, which was all Arjun had in his cupboards.

  They raised their glasses and toasted each other on jobs well done. “I’ll admit,” Rachel said, “there were times when I didn’t think we’d pull this off. But you were both magnificent.”

  “We were, weren’t we?” Arjun said. His long-lashed brown eyes shone with satisfaction. With his stocky frame, shoulder-length black hair, and ratty wardrobe, Ajrun’s appearance was mostly unremarkable. But his eyes were beautiful. “We couldn’t have done it without you, though.”

  “The three of us make a good partnership,” Sam said. “Maybe one more con before we go our separate ways?”

  Arjun shook his head. “Uh, uh. Once my debts are paid, I’m out. I don’t know how you live—how do you say it? On the grift. It’s much too stressful. Besides, my mother insists it’s time for me to marry a nice Indian girl. I’ve avoided it as long as I could. I’ve got no time for cons.”

  Rachel laughed and took a drink. Normally, she loved Champagne, but today, she resisted the urge to spit it out. It didn’t taste right. Had the bottle gone off, or was it just her? Was Dom Perignon too rich for her Korbel palate to appreciate?”

  She glanced at Sam and Arjun but neither of them mentioned anything funky about its taste—in fact, Arjun drank his off in three drinks and held his glass out for a re-fill.

  “It beats clocking in at a day job,” Sam said. “I could never do that.”

  Arjun, who worked as a programmer at a big tech company, chuckled. “Point taken.”

  Sam elbowed Rachel playfully. “Anyway, do this long enough and you get used to the stress. You even start to crave the rush, right, babe?”

  She set her still-full glass down. “Right. But in this case, I’m with Arjun. We agreed to one target: Mack Foley. It’s too risky to go for more.”

  “Seems a shame to bail when we’ve done so much foundation work,” Sam said.

  He spoke as if they hadn’t already had this conversation several times. She was about to argue, but Arjun stepped in before she had a chance to reply. “I’ll be selling off Mack’s coins and transferring your share of them today. You’ve set up a wallet, right?”

  Sam took out his phone and opened the app, then started rifling through his pockets. “Wait a second, I gotta find my password,” he said.

  “It’s called a key,” Arjun said. “But why don’t you use facial recognition for access?” Sam shrugged. “Biometric authentication is a whole lot more secure than a private key.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Rachel said. “But he thinks using a key is safer.”

  “Quit talking about me like I’m not here,” Sam said. He handed Arjun his phone. “You’ve convinced me. Hook me up with some facial recognition.”

  Arjun took him through the process, then said, “After the transfer, we’ll keep the Yella website and app active for a few days in case Mack checks, but we’ll want to get out and cover our tracks as quickly as possible. The infrastructure will still be there, so if you decide to do something like this again, you won’t be starting from scratch. But, as I said, I can no longer be a part of it.”

  From there, Sam and Arjun began a debate about the pros and cons of quitting while they were ahead. They finished off the Champagne as they chattered and neither seemed to notice that Rachel stopped drinking.

  Early the next morning, Rachel left Sam asleep in bed while she slipped off to the bathroom to pee on a stick. Her period was two weeks late, which wasn’t unusual for her and might not have worried her so much were it not for the other weird symptoms she’d been experiencing. The test results didn’t surprise her: She was pregnant.

  She sat on the closed toilet seat
, staring at the results. She and Sam had only ever talked about starting a family in the vaguest terms. Such discussions were always preceded by someday, as though the word served as protection from ever having to make a decision. Did they want children? Of course they did. Someday.

  Now, Rachel had no choice but to think on the matter seriously. Running cons offered a good living, except when it didn’t. For every three successful scams there was at least one that failed, and most often, it seemed, they broke even. Sure, they’d just scored big, but that was before their expenses were accounted for. What was left wouldn’t last them half a year, though it would certainly get them to Mexico or anywhere else they could lie low for an extended period.

  As many times as Rachel had mused about getting off the grift, of settling down and having a “normal” life, now that the option was before her, she knew it would never work. Not for long, anyway. This was the only way they knew to make a living, haphazard as it sometimes was. She couldn’t imagine waiting tables, or Sam working a register at Walmart, yet she didn’t know if they would even qualify for those jobs since their resumes were woefully blank when it came to legitimate job experience.

  Both Sam and Rachel were well-suited to criminal life, but a baby would change that. They couldn’t drop the kid off with Porter in Cleveland to babysit while they went on to the next city to pull another con. Sam’s parents were dead and there was no way she’d ever leave a child with her own parents. Hell, for all she knew, they were dead, too. She hadn’t talked to them in more than five years.

  She placed her hand on her abdomen, pressing lightly, feeling for proof of life. Her belly was as taut as ever; nothing had changed. And yet those two blue lines meant everything had changed.