The Billionaire Brute

by Hart, Romi

  I shake my head, admiring her nice bubbly ass while she walks back to her car. Wow, for an uptight, soccer-mom type, she is hot. But the terrible personality and all, I guess, cancels that out.

  I walk back to my Ferrari, making sure the woman is leaving and isn’t trying any funny business. Well shit! That encounter ruined my night. It looks like it’s time for a drink, and I know just who to talk to. Nice guy, the guy I haven’t seen in a year or so. But he’s always down for some tequila shots.

  I slap old Andy on the shoulder and wave to the waitress for another round.

  “I tell ya, women these days..,” Andy says. “don’t respect men anymore. It’s all about bringing down the patriarchy and they don’t care who they run over to get what they want.”

  “Hey!” I reply, chugging down another shot. “I am a feminist. I’m totally for women’s rights. But I’m not down with angry soccer-moms, talking down to me just because I have a nice car and they’re driving a crappy Honda Accord. Oh, uh…no offense if you drive a Honda, Andy.”

  “Nah, Ford.” he says. “The police department doesn’t spoil us with a Honda.”

  “I tried to be nice to her, I swear. But this woman was on a mission from God or something. She had a chip on her shoulder from the moment she met me. And SHE was the one who hit me. If there were video cameras installed in every car, she would be eating it right, and eating it hard.”

  “Hey kid,” Andy says. “We’ve been friends a long time now. I’ve known you and your father most of my life. So, trust me when I tell you, I’ll take care of this.”

  “Cool, that’s why you’re the best, Andy. And hey, you don’t have to scare her. Just make a few calls to the insurance company and ask your buddies at the precinct about the accident report. I know, one hundred percent, she was at fault.”

  “Well now,” he laughs. “I just meant I’d take care of any legal charges she tries to bring against you. I don’t want to get involved in talking to the insurance companies.”

  “Woah!” I laugh nervously. “What do you think I’m asking you, Andy? I’m not afraid of her suing me. I just don’t want to pay for anything because I know she is at fault here.”

  “Yeah but…” Andy laughs. “Come on, kid. Just let her win this one. You can afford it.”

  “I can afford it?!”

  “Umm yeah. Aren’t you part of the Gallows Corporation? A big shot in a Ferrari? Probably got rich parents or something?”

  “First of all, I resent that,” I say before chugging another beer down. “I make my own money. I’m a hedge fund investor now.”

  “Sure, kid.”

  “And I’m not a kid. I’m in my mid-twenties. One hundred years ago that would have been my life expectancy. So come on, are you going to help me out or not?”

  “What can I do?” he says, waving his hand. “If I start shoving my nose in someone else’s business, they’re going to know I’m just doing someone a favor. It’s too much risk for me. And you know damn well you can afford it, Byron.”

  “It’s the principle of the thing, Andy. I don’t care about money. Hell, I’d buy her a brand-new car if she DESERVED it! But ramming into me and then pretending like I’m at fault, that’s some fucked up man-hating behavior. Come on, Andy. We’re not fighting against one crazy woman here. We’re fighting against FemiNazis everywhere. We’re fighting against radicals who think they can scare men into complete submission.”

  Andy laughs, “I feel you, kid. But it’s not worth the risk.”

  “You are such a materialistic asshole!” I say, putting my hand in my pocket.

  “Oh, look who’s talking! You silly…”

  I grab some wad of cash and slip it on the table giving Andy a look.

  “Oh geez. And wouldn’t you know, I’m behind on my car payment.” Andy shakes his head in disbelief.

  I laugh it off. And slip another wad of cash into his hand, ramming eyes with him.

  “Fuck the car payment. Pay it off but do me this favor.”

  He frowns. “Is it really worth it to you?”

  “YES. The principle of the matter is ALWAYS worth it.”

  Andy sighs. Disappointed in me. Like dad, like every person who loathes the name Alfred Gallows and Byron Gallows, the tycoon billionaire and his son who always come out on top.

  Andy takes the cash. Like they all do eventually. I smile and order another round.

  Chapter 2

  Laura

  “Helloooo?” the groggy voice says.

  “Hi!” I say, smiling and making sure my voice sounds happy and positive.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Oh, I think you know who I am.”

  “Ehh?”

  “You fucking asshole.”

  “Whaaaat?”

  “Yeah! I’m Laura Katt. That woman that you RAMMED into last week? The woman that you laughed at, just because she was poor and won’t fall for your crazy shit. And guess why I’m calling now!”

  “Umm, because you love me?”

  “Because my insurance company just called to tell me that they’re siding with YOU. YOU, the reckless driver who messed up my car! What did you do, Byron? Did you pay off the police? REALLY? For one fender-bender, you saw fit to bribe your way to victory? Because I guess admitting you were wrong and paying a DOLLAR, literally a dollar, for one moment in your decadent, obscenely rich life was really NOT THAT important.”

  He stays silent until he erupts into laughter.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny?”

  “Sorry. But you are flipping the fuck out over a fender-bender, is kind of funny.”

  “Yeah! I’m sure you and your boys at the precinct are having a good laugh over this. Well, what a surprise! The rich screw over the little people, once again.”

  “Oh, give me a break. You were at fault.”

  “NO, I was not! And it’s not like money matters to you, Byron. If you’re driving around in a Ferrari, you can afford to be a gentleman, you know.”

  “Oh, that’s what it comes down to, right?” he laughs. “Me being a gentleman and letting you walk all over me. Nah, I don’t think so. Homey don’t play like that.”

  “WHAT?! Homey? Stop talking slang. I don’t understand it.”

  “Oh my God! You are the one acting crazy here,” he laughs back to me. “Listen to yourself.”

  “Don’t pretend that this is about anything else,” I reply. “This is about me losing money but standing up for injustice. People like you need to be called out on your bad behavior.”

  “Oh right, injustice. Because if anything negative happens to you, it’s because you’re the victim, right?”

  “In this case, yes.”

  “Jesus Christ, I’ve argued with you more than my last girlfriend. For real. And I barely know your name.”

  “I don’t even know your name,” I say. “But I do make it a point to stand up to bullies, so there you go.”

  “You don’t know my name?”

  “Yeah Byron. Or as I call you, Byron the Brat.”

  “No. I mean…my last name? Gallows?”

  “No. Should I know that name?”

  “I’m Alfred Gallows’ son.”

  “Umm whoopee then. I’m Lonny Katt’s daughter. And you owe me money. Goodbye.”

  “So, you really don’t know who I am, do you?”

  “Oh, I do know who you are, now that I think about it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re the rich asshole who rammed into my car and then paid off the police to get away with it. I will forever remember you, Byron, as the Bad Driver and rich, entitled little brat you are. Have a terrible life. Goodbye.”

  “Oh my God!”

  He laughs but I quiet his sarcasm by hanging up on him. Well, that wasn’t worth the two hundred dollars claim I would rather have had, but at least it felt cathartic.

  He calls back again and I try to ignore it. Sent straight to voice mail. Good.

  And again! He keeps calling me. What more is there to
say, really? I wonder.

  “Stop calling me,” I reply back coldly.

  “You know the thing that bothers me?” he says.

  “I don’t care.”

  “Is that it’s not about the money. If I was at fault, I would have gladly paid you, even without getting the insurance companies involved.”

  “Uh huh. Sure.”

  “But it’s the idea. The principle. The very thought of you lying to get what you want, that bothers me.”

  “I didn’t lie. You’re the one lying.”

  “You know what?” he says, sassing me again. “I’ll tell you what. If you just admit to me right now that you were lying, I will pay your entire car off.”

  I groan loudly into the phone, so he can hear me reacting to how ridiculous he sounds.

  “I just want you to admit it.”

  “Whatever. Fine, I was lying. And I don’t want you to pay my car off, just pay for the claim. Two hundred dollars. I can’t afford it.”

  “So, you admit you lied?”

  “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I know in my heart I didn’t lie. But you’re so determined to dangle that carrot in front of my face that you’re going to keep talking about this. And I don’t want to keep talking about it or to you, so fine, whatever. Pay for the damages.”

  “So you didn’t lie? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m not a professional liar, Byron. So no, I never lie. Can you say the same thing?”

  “I-?”

  “You know since your family has such a GREAT reputation for being honest and playing nice?”

  He stays quiet, almost sounding embarrassed.

  “I Googled your dad’s name. I had no idea who you were at first, honestly. But from what I’ve researched, he’s certainly not the most beloved guy in the world. Something about evicting people from his property, cheating people out of their investments. Sound familiar?”

  “For your information, my father is a saint. The media hates him because they just like to pick on rich, old white guys. But HE’S the one giving to charity. He’s the one investing in green technology. He’s voting Blue all the way. What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to survive, Byron. You think people like me, people who work for a living, are happy to grovel for an extra two hundred dollars? We don’t do it to play a game with you. We do it because we need the money. Imagine how much your cop friend was probably hurting for cash, to be so desperate as to interfere with an insurance claim that was none of his business whatsoever.”

  He still says nothing. Good.

  “I mean you talk about the principle or whatever, but the principle of the matter is that every little thing you do, the way you treat people, shows your true colors. And all I got from this whole unpleasant experience with you, was that you will never admit what a jerk you are. So, in my eyes that gives you a lifetime value of about two hundred dollars as a decent human being. Goodbye, once again.”

  “Wait.”

  Click.

  What started as an annoying fender-bender, and then evolved into a phone argument, has now turned into a full-blown TROLL war. Byron Gallows was now resorting to stalking, trolling and flaming me on social media.

  I fold my arms and stew as I read over his direct message.

  Dear Laura, you know, we react to the energy that other people put out there. Maybe if you weren’t such a psycho as soon as I met you, we would have gotten along better. And maybe I would have given you whatever you wanted. You know, like the Genie from Aladdin. Yeah, that sounds like me.

  * * *

  I ignored his message. I could have responded and kept this ridiculous dialogue going, but honestly, I’ve had enough. I’ve met guys like him before and I’m not impressed. Whatever I am to him, an argument, a “crazy feminist”, a poor person who dared to collide with his car, or just a quick lay, he must win this game. Nope, not happening.

  * * *

  Laura, I forgive you. It is the Christ-like thing to do. And above all things, I am a believer. A sinner, yes, but I believe in right and wrong. And though you started this war between us, I am keen to forgive you. Be blessed, my child.

  * * *

  Message deleted. No, still not rising to the bait.

  * * *

  Laura, are there any men you DO admire? Or do you just hate us all equally for daring to indirectly make your life miserable? Seriously, I want to know. You have to admit, you hated me from the moment you saw me. Why? For real, sister. Lay it on me.

  * * *

  Ignored.

  * * *

  Laura, I would like to apologize…

  * * *

  Typing a response…

  * * *

  For your terrible behavior. Really, I’m ashamed of you. But I am kind and want to start over again. Let’s be friends.

  * * *

  Ignored.

  It’s been five days since Byron’s last stalker text, and I was just starting to think he took the hint. But now he dares to call me on my phone again and I can’t help but sigh. Part of me really wants to ignore him. I don’t believe in rewarding bad behavior with more attention.

  If this is going to be more gloating or more jock-bullshit, then forget it. I have heard more than enough of that from some of my clients. I’m certainly not about to humor THIS GUY.

  I ponder for a while whether to answer his call or just block him and eventually forget I ever met him. The phone continues to ring and I think it over, second-guessing myself and waving my hand around. So close to answering, so close to ignoring him permanently.

  But the more I think about it, it feels cowardly to NOT talk to him at least one more time. I’m not afraid of his antics. I’m just tired of people like him thinking they can win with such juvenile behavior. Maybe I owe it to everyone else to put him in his place, once and for all.

  “Yeaaaah?” I say, sounding tired.

  “Laura, it’s me.”

  “Yeah, kinda figured from the caller ID. What do you want?”

  “I think-”

  “I’m not in the mood to hear anymore gloating or trolling. I just don’t care anymore.”

  “Listen…I thought over it.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And…let’s just drop the whole car incident, okay?”

  “Drop it?”

  “Aside from that, I have no problem with you.”

  “Oh, gee! Thanks,” I laugh in response.

  “Seriously. I want to…you know…”

  “What?!”

  “Apologize. For my sarcasm. Thinking back, I do kind of sense that I was trolling you a little bit. I said some things that were, you know, probably just me being an ass. Now that I’ve thought this over-”

  “Oh, now that you’ve thought this over?” I laugh. “Look, apology accepted. Okay? Let’s just move on.”

  “No, wait. What I mean to say is…”

  “WHAT? There’s nothing else to say, Byron. Okay, I accept your apology. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

  “Let me pay you for the claim.”

  “Ugh…that might have been nice two weeks ago, but now it really doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “No, I’m serious. You’re right, it’s just money. You need it more than I do. Give me an address and I’ll send you a check.”

  “I’m not giving you my home address,” I say blankly.

  “Oh for god’s sake!” he laughs. “I don’t mean it like that…”

  “You can send the money to my work address.”

  “Fine. I really do want to put this behind us.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I remain quiet, wondering what he’s really thinking.

  “No, seriously. I thought it over. I don’t even care about the car, really. I just thought about what you said, about you needing the money more than I do and you’re absolutely right. So that’s that.”

  “So…waiting for the slap. You’re nice for like seconds and then you got to slap me back. Go ahead.”

  “No, no!
I promise. No smart-ass reply. For real. And hey, I’m usually not this nice.”

  “You mean you’re usually not a decent, nice, normal person?” I finally laugh. “Okay. You know, for what it’s worth, that day on the road…I was really having a bad day. I was probably just stressed out of my mind.”

  He says nothing but listens.

  “So we probably just pissed each other off. Thank you for volunteering to pay. Now I gotta go.”

  “Where?”

  “Where am I going?” I laugh.

  “Sorry. None of my business.”

  “No, it isn’t.” I laugh again. “But if you must know, I’m going shopping.”

  “Local grocery store or Whole Foods? Because I’m all about eating the Keto diet lately.”

  “Umm…Whole Foods, if you must know. Goodbye, Byron. I’m sure you’re going to have a pretty OK life. Happy now? See ya.”

  “Wait.”

  I chuckle as I hang up the phone. What in the world does he want to talk about? Maybe he’s one of those psycho rich guys who wants everyone in the world to love him. Well congrats, kid. I don’t hate you, nor do I love you. You simply don’t matter that much in the normal course of a day. I bid you farewell.

  I feel slightly dirty as I squeeze the avocados, making sure they’re just the right texture. Feeling up fruit has always made me feel giggly. Oh geez, I have a feeling I’m going to spend way too much money this week. My basket is already half-full, and I’ve barely begun shopping for the week.

  “Make sure they’re ripe,” I hear a voice behind me say.

  I turn around, expecting to see a helpful clerk or something, only to see Byron’s smiling face in front of me, holding a banana.

  “Oh my God!” I laugh. “Okay, now you’ve officially turned from a jackass to a stalker. Did you follow me here, Byron?”