The Millionaires (59 page)

“Wonderful,” I say. “Then this is for you…” I slap a letter-sized blue-and-white envelope onto the desk and slide it across
to Lapidus. It’s blank on top. Lapidus glances at the lawyer.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a summons,” I tell him.

Flipping it over, Lapidus notices his own shredded signature across the back flap.

It’s the only reason I came back here today…

He opens the envelope and unfolds my business school recommendation letter.

… I wanted to see his face. And let him know I knew.

He keeps his eyes on the letter, refusing to look my way. The discomfort alone makes every second worth it. Folding it up,
he stuffs it back in the envelope and heads silently for the door.

“Where’re you going?” Quincy asks.

Lapidus doesn’t answer. He and Quincy may’ve never been involved with the money and everything that happened, but that doesn’t
make them saints.

The meeting itself takes a total of six minutes. Four years to build this life. Six minutes to scrap it. The lawyer asks me
to wait here while they gather my things.

As they leave, the door slams behind them, and I look out through the glass window into the lobby. Throughout the room, two
dozen employees once again look away. The bandaged cut on my stomach stings every time I shift my weight. And my once broken
nose stings every time I breathe. But this stings worse.

Twenty-five minutes later, nothing’s changed. The zoo’s still open. I throw a nod to Jersey Jeff; he pretends not to see it.
Mary comes out of the elevator and refuses to acknowledge I’m there. For four years, I killed myself for the partners, made
money for the clients, and immersed myself in every nitpicky detail the bank had to offer. But in all those years, I never
made a single friend.

Trying not to think about it, I stare down at the inlaid mahogany conference table. It’s the same table that I sat at to close
my first client, which got Lapidus’s attention and moved me from the first floor up to the seventh. Today, as my eyes trace
the pattern of the antique mahogany, I angle my head and spot a nasty scratch that runs like a scar across the center of the
table. I never noticed it before. But I bet it was always there.

Eventually exhausted by the waiting game, I stand up to leave. Yet just as I push my chair out, there’s a loud knock against
the conference room door.

“Come in,” I say, though the door’s already swinging open.

As it slams into the wall, I study the familiar figure who’s carrying two cardboard banker’s boxes. Unsure of what to say,
Joey hesitantly steps into the room and lowers both boxes to the table. One’s filled with management books and my cheap imitation
banker’s lamp, the other’s filled with Play-Doh and the rest of Charlie’s toys.

“They… uh… they asked me to bring you these,” she offers, her voice unusually quiet.

I nod and flip through the contents of the box. The sterling silver pen set I bought with my first bonus. And the leather
blotter I bought when I got my first raise. Naturally, the Art Deco clock I got from Lapidus isn’t there. I’m guessing he
pulled it off the wall last week.

“I’m sorry they wouldn’t let you up there,” Joey explains. “It’s just that after everything that happened, the insurance company
asked me to—”

“No, I understand,” I interrupt. “Everyone has to do their job.”

“Yeah… well… some jobs are easier than others.”

“No doubt about that.” I look her in the face. Unlike everyone else, she doesn’t turn away. Instead, she stays with me… studying…
absorbing my reaction. It’s the first time I’ve seen her up close—and without a gun in her hand. “Listen, Ms. Lemont…”

“Joey.”

“Joey,” I repeat. “I just… I just wanted to say thanks for what you did. For me… and for Charlie.”

“Oliver, all I did was tell the truth.”

“I’m not talking about the testimony—I meant with Shep. With saving us…”

“I almost got you killed. That bluff about being on the phone with Lapidus…”

“… was the only way to find out what was really going on. Besides, if you hadn’t come in when you did—and then with Charlie’s
medication—”

“Like you said, we all do our jobs,” she adds with a grin. It’s the only smile I’ve seen all day. And means more than she’ll
ever know.

“So what happens now?” I ask her. “Were you able to get all the money back?”

“Money? What money?” Joey asks with a laugh. “That’s not money anymore—it’s just an assortment of ones and zeros assigned
to a computer.”

“But the account in Antigua…”

“Once you gave us the location, they sent every penny straight back—but you saw how Duckworth designed the worm. The three
million… the three hundred million… none of it was real. Sure, the computers
thought
it was real, and yes, it fooled every bank you sent it to—that was the genius of the program—but that doesn’t mean the money
was actually there. Say hello to the cold hard cash of the future. It may look like a dollar, and act like a dollar, but that
doesn’t make it a dollar.”

“So all those transfers from Tanner Drew and everyone here…?”

“Were just the easiest way to make the money look kosher. It’s brilliant when you see it up close. Completely random—completely
untraceable. The hardest part is, once the worm gets in the system, it actually digs in and hides itself.”

“Then how do you know what’s real and what’s fake?”

“That’s the zinger now, isn’t it? Too bad for us, it’s like talking about time travel. Once Gallo brought the program in,
and Shep unleashed it on the system, the worm burrowed in so deep, it created a whole new reality. The tech boys said it’ll
take months to purge everything. Trust me, Lapidus and Quincy may be smiling now, but for the next year of their lives, they—and
every single client in the bank—are going to be under a magnifying glass the size of Utah.”

She says it to make me feel better. And even though I can picture Tanner Drew’s face when he’s told about his audit, I’m not
sure it works. “What about Gillian?” I ask.

“You mean Sherry?”

“Yeah… Sherry. Any word on how she’s doing?”

“Besides the indictment? You know better than I do. You’re the one talking to the U.S. Attorney.”

She’s right about that one. “Last I heard, she posted bail just in time to go to the funeral.”

Joey’s silent as I share the news. However it happened, she’s still the one who pulled the trigger on Shep. Still, she’s too
bright to linger on the negative. Moving for a quick change of subject, she asks, “So what’re you doing after this?”

“You mean, besides five years of probation?”

“Was that the final settlement?”

“As long as we deliver DeSanctis and Gilli—Sherry, the testimony sets us free.”

By the crinkle in her forehead, she’s wondering if it was a hard choice. Nothing in my life has ever been easier.

“What about you?” I ask. “Don’t they give you a bonus or some sort of percentage for bringing everyone in?”

She shakes her head. “Not when a cheap-ass insurance company is paying,” she says. “But there’s always the next case…”

I nod, trying to sympathize.

“So that’s it?” Joey asks.

“That’s it,” I tell her.

She looks at me like I’m leaving something out.

“What?” I ask.

Glancing over her shoulder, she makes sure no one’s listening. “Is it true someone called you about buying the movie rights?”

“How’d you hear that?”

“It’s my job, Oliver.”

I shake my head, and for once, let it roll off. “They called—they said I had a lot of subplots—but I haven’t called them back.
I don’t know… not everything has a pricetag.”

“Yeah… well, I’ve got a lot of subplots too. And all I’m saying is when they cast
my
part, don’t let it be with some soft beauty queen who runs around with a cell phone pressed to her ear—unless, of course,
she’s an asskicker, and has a normal body, and the final line someone utters to her is ‘
Thanks, Mean Joe.
’ ”

I can’t help but laugh out loud. “I’ll do what I can.”

Joey heads for the door and gives it a sharp yank open. As she’s about to leave, she turns around and adds, “I really am sorry
they had to fire you, Oliver.”

“Trust me, it’s for the best.”

She studies me to see if I’m lying—to her and to myself.

Unsure, she turns back to the door. “You ready to go?”

I look down at the two storage boxes that sit on top of the conference table. The one on the left has how-to-get-ahead textbooks,
silver pens, and a leather blotter. The one on the right has Play-Doh and Kermit the Frog. The boxes aren’t big. I can carry
both. But I only take one.

C’mon, Kermit, we’re going home.

Propping Charlie’s box against my chest, I leave the other one behind.

Joey motions to it. “Do you want help carrying th—?”

I shake my head. I don’t need it anymore.

Nodding slightly, Joey steps back and holds the door wide open.

I cross through the threshold and begin my final walk through the bank. Everyone’s staring. I don’t care.

“Knock ’em on their ass, kiddo,” Joey whispers as I pass.

“Thanks, Mean Joe,” I grin back.

Without another word, I step out into the crowd. Looking straight ahead, I already smell the Play-Doh.

S
o? What’d they say? Are we done?” Charlie grills me the instant

I set a toe in his bedroom.

“Take a wild guess,” I answer.

Sitting up in bed and readjusting the bandage on his shoulder, he nods to himself. He knew it was coming. If they didn’t fire
us, they’d be fools. “Did they say anything about me?” he asks.

At the foot of the bed, I dump the boxful of his desk toys all over his childhood comforter. “They wanted to make you a partner,
but only if they could keep your Silly Putty. Naturally, I told them it was nonnegotiable, but I think we can counter with
some Matchbox cars. The good ones, of course, not the crappy knockoffs.”

As I say the words, he’s completely confused. The result, he expected. But not my reaction. “This isn’t a joke, Ollie. Whatta
we do now? Mom can’t support two apartments.”

“I totally agree.” I leave the bedroom and return two seconds later dragging an enormous army-green duffel bag. With a grunt,
I heave it on the bed, letting it bounce next to him. “That’s why we’re downsizing to one.” As Charlie whips open the zipper,
he spots my neatly folded clothes inside.

“So you’re actually going through with this? You’re really moving back in?”

“I hope so—I just spent twenty-three bucks on my last cab ride. Those things’ll cost you a fortune.”

Narrowing his eyes, Charlie picks me apart. “Okay, what’s the punchline?” he asks.

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

“No, no, no,” he insists. “Don’t play that game show with me, Monty. I was there when you found that apartment and moved into
your own place. I remember how proud you were that day. In college, all your friends lived in the dorms, and you had to live
at home and commute. But once you graduated… once you signed that lease and took your first step on the yellow brick road
of success… I know what it meant, Ollie. So now that you’re moving back in, don’t tell me you’re not devastated.”

“But I’m not.”

“But you’re not,” he agrees, still searching my face. It may be a temporary move, but it’s a good one.

“So you think this room can still sleep two?” I ask, motioning to the pyramid of speakers where my old bed used to be.

“Two’s fine—I’m just happy it’s not three,” he says suspiciously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, your girlfriend Beth called earlier. She said your phone was disconnected.”

“And…”

“And she wants to speak to you. She said the two of you broke up.”

This time, I don’t respond.

“So who broke up with who?” Charlie asks.

“Does it matter?”

“Actually, it does,” he says, touching the hairline scab that still hasn’t faded from his neck.

“Since when’re you so somber?”

“Just answer the question, Ollie.” He won’t say it, but it’s clear what my brother’s after. Life is always a test.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was the one who broke it off with her—”

“Ohhhh, Lordy, I’m
healed…!
” Charlie shouts, raising his shoulder in the air. “My arm—it works! My heart—it’s a pumpin’!”

I roll my eyes.

“Mmmmm, baby, can I get a hallelujah!?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’ll miss you too,” I say. “Now how about helping me move the rest of my stuff?”

He looks down and grabs his shoulder. “Ow, my arm. Cough, cough, and more cough—I can’t breathe.”

“C’mon, you faker—get your butt outta bed—the doctors said you’re fine.” I yank the covers aside and see that Charlie’s fully
dressed in jeans and socks. “You’re really sad, y’know that?” I say.

“No, sad is if I was wearing sneakers.” Hopping out of bed, he follows me into the living room and spots my other duffel bag,
two huge boxes, and some milk crates full of CDs, videos, and old photos. That’s all that’s left. The only piece of furniture
is the one I brought over last night: my dresser from when I first moved out. That belongs here.