Billionaire Secrets of a Wanglorious Bastard (16 page)

“I don’t have time to hang out with you. I’m working on my brief.”

“I’m not coming to hang out with you. I’m coming to get my shirt.”

“Fine.”

That was it. I was going over to get my shirt. When I arrived, I had to take a major shit, so I did so. The dump was a metaphor for our relationship…and it stank to high heaven.

When I went into her room, she was playing solitaire.
 

“Lemme see your phone.”

I let her check it out and she started playing Tetris. She was addicted to Tetris, and whenever she got a high score she put in the name Peaches.
 

There wasn’t an open book to be found in her room, which was typical for her. She had a shitload of work to do, but just wouldn’t do it. She’d procrastinate, complain, say she didn’t have time for me, only to call me and fuck. Without the fucking in that equation, I couldn’t be bothered.

I started to talk to her about powwows and how there would be folks who had nothing to do with their Native American heritage for most of their life, only to rediscover it. Tribal festivals were like a homecoming, which spoke to our longing to reconnect.

“That’s the same shit Hitler said.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that culture is genetic.”

“I’m not—”

“That kind of thinking led to the Holocaust.”

“I didn’t say culture was genetic, I said the longing to reconnect—”

“You think people come out of the womb making miso?”

“I didn’t… Look, I just came here for my shirt.”

I grabbed my shirt and cell phone and left the room. Lola’s apartment door would frequently stick, so it’d have to be slammed shut. When I tried to pull the door shut, it wouldn’t budge.
 

“Fuck…”

I knew the only way to leave the apartment was to pull the door so hard, it would unstick. The negative? It’d slam shut.

So I pulled the door hard and it was free…

And slammed shut.

As I was a block away, my phone rang.

“You didn’t have to slam my fucking door…”

“It was stuck and… You know what, things have been crazy and I don’t think I can fucking deal with this shit.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re pissed because you have work to do. Then you take it out on me.”

“Oh, I’m the fucking bad guy.”

“Look, you’re a good person, we just need space.”

“I agree.”

“We can be friends, and I wish you well, but dating just isn’t working…”

“I agree.”

“Good luck.”

I hung up, shirt in hand, and embraced the happiness of loneliness.

A few days later, a friend of mine who went to law school with Lola’s sister sent me an email.

“Are you dating a girl named Lola?”

“I was…”

“Break up with her, Rufus. She and her family are freaks.”

“How’d you know I was dating her?”

“After class, some chick rolls up on me and asked if I worked at LAMB and knew Rufus Wang. When I told her ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘My sister’s dating him and says he’s easy to manipulate.’ What a bitch, huh.”

“I guess if coming to her apartment to fuck, not paying for shit, and being offered round-trip cab fare is being manipulated, I’m guilty.”

A few hours later, I was drunk and called Lola.
 

“Rufus?”
 

“You sound surprised.”

“I thought you’d call earlier…”

Turned out she’d moved a few blocks and had a cat named Rufus. The conversation was normal until I asked about her sister talking shit.

“Who the fuck told you that?”

“My friend Anastasia.”

“That fucking bitch is a liar.”

“You didn’t tell your sister I was easy to manipulate?”

“That bitch is lying.”

“Which one? Anastasia or your sister?”

She hung up. Another drunken night a day later, I called again. Lola and I had an enjoyably civil conversation. I had to be an ass and said…

“I guess I’m not so easy to manipulate, huh?”

Lola exploded.

“You know what, you call and act nice, only to drop that fucking shit in my face. Rufus, don’t call me and do this again.”

“I can guarantee I won’t, because do you know what I’m doing right now? I’m deleting your number from my cell phone, Peaches.”

That was the last I spoke to Peaches on the phone. When I played Tetris a week later, I saw her name and her high scores. I thought about erasing them, but thought I’d beat the scores instead. I did, and with that, erased Lola from my life.

51

A FEW DAYS
passed, and I missed Lola.

Why did I miss her? My time with her was nothing but abuse.
 

Who was I kidding? She was fun.

Unlike the women I'd been with since.

One had an abnormally small vagina. She'd cry every time I entered her. Tears streaming down her face with every grind. She needed some anthrax-fighting drug, because my dick was giving her problems.

Turned out it wasn't my dong, it was my finger. I didn't know sticking one up her butt and feeling her cooch spread bacteria that caused her infections.

My bad.

Then I went out with a woman who wrote poems about how I reminded her of her father. And she wanted to call me daddy whenever we were hooking up. I stopped after the second time. And didn't come either.

I was tempted to call Sherri, but thought better about it.
 

I ran into Lola walking an “Adopt-A-Pet” in Morningside Heights. It was raining and I offered to walk her home. She agreed, but had to return the dog. We walked to the return area and she passed me off to a vagrant volunteer. After twenty excruciating minutes of what seemed to be a conversation with him and evil glares from a woman who had a crush on Lola, I bid adieu and bounced.

The next day, I ran into Lola again. I was with a female friend…who was slamming, I must say. Lola immediately introduced herself to my female friend.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You hard of hearing, bitch?”

I had to separate the two of them.

A week later I would run into Lola again at a dessert lounge. I was chilling with my friend and her sister. Lola walked in, made eye contact, and froze. We greeted one another and she tried to leave the room, but a portly guy her father's age waddled through and took a seat right next to me. He was unaware of his faux pas. Our parties didn’t talk. I overheard them talking about a paper. Seemed as if he was her associate. Had she dropped out of law?

I got a call from Lola the next day.
 

“Wanna see a movie?”

“Sure. Where?”

When I got to her place, she said she wanted to rent a movie and see it on DVD. We got some drinks then went to the video store and rented
City of God
. She had a laptop set up in front of her bed on a chair. We sat on her bed closely. About five minutes in we started feeling each other up and making out, so I couldn’t tell you what the movie was about.

52

I FELT GOOD
about myself.
 

Getting with Lola meant sex and job security.

Soon as I entered Krueller, I went straight to Enos's office.

He saw me and shook his head. “Lola.”

I raised my hands, palms out.
 

He sucked his teeth. “So you did it?”

I grinned. “It I did.”

“Fuck you, cuz.”

“Fuck me? For what? You jealous?”

“Jealous? Of you?” He buzzed his lips. “You're pathetic.”

“Hold on. I thought it was the plan?”

“I don't know what plan you're talking about.”

“Boning to get a job.”

“Yeah. Fucking to get a job. Not fucking someone over to get a job.”

He wasn’t making sense. “She was down, Enos.”

“Really? I doubt that.”

“You think I slipped her a roofie or something?”

“A roofie?”

“Yes. You don't think it was consensual.”

Tani came in. “I can't believe Lola was fired.”

I said, “Lola was fired?”

Enos squinted and his face slowly scrunched up. “Yeah. What did you think I meant?”

“Why was she fired?”

Tani said, “Some bullshit.”

Lola fired. Kimmi quit. “Natasha?”

Enos said, “What about her?”

I called Lola's number. It was out of service.

I went to her new and old apartments and she’d moved out of both.

The firm didn't have a forwarding address for her.

It was if she never existed.

So I went to the bar where we first met.
 

A few hours later, I heard a familiar voice.

53

“COME HERE OFTEN?”

I turned, and it was Sif.

I said, “Not really. Dive bars aren’t my thing.”

“I feel you on that. Look, I know how it must be for you. Working at Krueller.”

“I'm done with Krueller.”

“You quit?”

“Not quite.”

“You were fired?”

“Not quite.”

Sif guffawed. “Get this man a drink.”

A drink? “I don't need another drink.”

“I do.” And like that, she snatched my glass and downed my drink. “Let me guess why you're so uncertain. Krueller is the pits, right?”

A pun, as the firm was named Krueller Pitts. “Right. The pits.”

She tilted her pointy finger down at me. “Name him.”

“Name who?”

“The partner who made you quit or get fired.”

“Why are you assuming it's a guy?”

She clicked her teeth. “You don't trust me, and why should you? I wouldn't trust me, either. So let me win your trust.”

“Doing what?”

“Give me the name of the partner who wronged you, and I will wrong him.”

This had to be a joke. “Fine. Stack.”

“Done. I'm on it.”

On what? “What are you gonna do?”

She said, “Wanna come with?”

54

WE WENT STRAIGHT
for Stack’s office. No one was in. Sif turned on his computer and somehow knew his password. She skimmed his email and found a message entitled “Tomorrow’s Deadline” highlighted “High Importance” from Grimes.

“Bingo.”

She popped out a flash drive, inserted it into a USB port, and opened up a program she attached to a reply email to Grimes. After removing the flash drive, Sif went through Stack’s file cabinet and took out a massive folder entitled “Roker.” Sif took the files, shredded them, and carried the paper pieces to the empty cafeteria down the hallway and threw them in the trash bin. She purchased a soda, emptied it into the bin, and left for Grimes's office. Like Stack's office, it was empty. She pulled out a different flash drive, unzipped a couple of programs, and left.

She said, “All done.”
 

“What did you do?”

“Magic.”

“No, really, what did you do?”

Sif pouted. “Magic.”

“What kind of magic?”

“Disappearing act.” She walked out.

“Wait.”
 

She didn't. So I put my hand on her shoulder. She said, “Ouch.”

“I wasn't that rough.”

“I'm tender-shouldered.”

“Sorry. Well, look. What did you do?”

“I sent an email reply to a message Stack received from a partner.”

“Grimes.”

She sniggered. “I like it. Anyhoo, when 'Grimes' opens up Stack's reply, it will erase everything on his computer at home. Tech support can’t do a damn thing about it. So when Grimes comes to work, to access the documents on his computer here, it will spread the virus here as well. By the time they get the system back up, the files will be toast.”

“Which is why you shredded the hard copies.”

Sif shot me with her finger. “Pow.”

“What if Grimes has his files at home?”

“He won't have time to check. He'll have to be in Judge Thompson’s chambers in a half-hour.”

“Maybe he could get an extension.”

“Thompson hates his guts already. If Grimes doesn’t have those papers, he loses the case. If he loses the case, he's ruined and this firm is fucked.”

“What about Enos?”

“Who?”

“Hiro. I meant 'Hiro.' And Tani?”

“Who cares?”

At that moment, I grabbed her by the shoulders. She cringed. “Watch it, buster. I told you I was tender-shouldered.”

“You need to undo it.”

“It's already done.”

I rushed to the trash bin and emptied it. The shredded docs were indecipherable. I turned to Sif, who smirked and kissed her flash drives. “I can see it now. ‘There's only one way to settle it. We will let our managing partner, a fair and equitable man who will make a fair and equitable decision.’”

I couldn't believe it. Why was this happening? She was crazy. I was gobsmacked. All of those people would lose their jobs. And for what? And the flash drives? “How did you have those flash drives on you?”

“I've always wanted to do this, but never had access.” She kissed my forehead. “Thanks, sqwanks.”

She ran out of the office and I tried undoing what she had done.
 

I was out of my league.

So I called tech support. It was my first time, and I wasn't sure what I would say, assuming that anyone would answer. Why did I accept Sif's offer to return to the office? I was such a dumbass, and now everyone would lose their jobs.
 

“Can I help you?”

Success! “Yes, I'm a paralegal working on a case for Mr. Stack and I accidentally sent the wrong message to Mr. Grimes. Could you intercept it?”

“Intercept it?”

“Yes, I mean, could you stop it from reaching Mr. Grimes?”

“You sound stressed.”

No shit. “I'm not stressed. Just concerned.”

“You have a very sexy voice. I'm sure you must hear that all of the time.”

A sexy voice? Of all times? Now? I wanted to use a voice that was so not sexy, unless the other person was into being yelled and cursed at. It wasn't a chance I was going to take. I didn't even know if the person on the other line was male or female. Not that it made a difference to me, since, you know, there was nothing I could do about it. The only thing I could do was play along.

I said, “With a voice like yours, I'm blushing.” I lied. The only time I blushed was when I drank a little too much. Something about “the enzyme” Rhage told me about. Sounded racist to me, so I ignored it. “Sexy recognizes sexy.”