After several months of rebuilding, Tak was anxious to show Elle how he had changed; how he was now a successful and well-respected businessman. Elle would be impressed, she would forgive him, and they would have sex again. Lots and lots of mind-blowing sex.
Tak had thought of nothing else on his flight from Tokyo to Oahu, where he knew Elle was teaching English. He had contacted all the English language schools with Japanese owners on the island and offered to pay Elle’s salary if they would give her a job. Tak knew exactly where to find her.
His plan would have been perfect if it hadn’t been for Win. Tak hadn’t expected Elle to fall in love with someone else. The stupid fool Tanaka, the head of the English language school where she worked, had neglected to tell him Elle had a boyfriend.
By the time Tak arrived in Oahu, it was too late. Elle had left Hawaii, a married woman. He had missed her by only a few days. Tak had been livid. Tanaka paid the price for his ineptitude.
Dejected, all Tak could do was return home and come up with another plan. Another way to win Elle back.
His scheme had taken time. More time than Tak had wanted, but seeing Elle again and experiencing the intensity of her emotions had made it all worthwhile. Elle would return to him. Tak couldn’t wait for the moment when he would be inside her again.
Tak looked at Win who was sitting to his left. What an arrogant man. Win thought he was so smart, having his lawyers slowly explain the terms of their contract. “Is the meaning of this clause perfectly clear, Mr. Akimoto? Martin Global Industries will own all future use of the technology you created.” Like he was stupid. Like he didn’t understand.
Tak knew exactly what he was doing. It was all integral to his plan. Let Win have the technology—it would be his undoing. Embedded in the code he was selling Martin Global was a virus so complicated and sophisticated that it was impossible to detect. But it was there and, over time, everything Martin Global produced with Tak’s technology would be disrupted. Win would stand by helpless as all his innovations failed. There would be chaos. People would die.
So, yes, Win. I am quite sure of what I am doing. I have been developing this plan for years. I am smarter than you’ll ever be. I, Takeshi Akimoto, will win. Tak smirked, realizing the connection to his winning and his nemesis’ name. Ironic.
It would serve Win right. He didn’t deserve Elle. He was too focused on his career. He didn’t put his wife on a pedestal the way Tak would, the way she deserved. It would be fitting for Win’s obsession with work to be his downfall. Elle would be happier without him. He wasn’t a man she would ditch her underwear for.
After more than twenty years, Tak’s moment of triumph was near. Remembering Sato, the lawyer who had come to see him shortly after Elle left for Hawaii, had been lucky. Something untoward had happened between the two of them, Tak was certain of it. Sato had been agitated and nervous when asking about her. Whatever it was, Tak had correctly guessed that Elle didn’t want to be reminded of it.
So, no, Elle wouldn’t say anything other than what had been planned. She would protect her family and her reputation to the end. She would play along and then, when everything fell apart for her husband, Tak would be there waiting to pick up the pieces.
It had been a mistake to send Elle away. Tak had been young, and careless, and foolish. But he had made amends. He had been patient, and he had been smart. He had bided his time well. Tak was ready for the payoff. She would walk through the door at any moment.
Chapter Forty-Two
X Ambassadors: “Renegades”
June 6, 2017
1:55 p.m.
Win
Win looked toward the doors leading into the conference room, impatiently awaiting his wife’s arrival. Strange how Akimoto had insisted she enter alone. This whole deal had been bizarre. Win couldn’t figure Akimoto out. He had been such a pain in the ass the past few days, making last-minute demands on seemingly trivial points, like the name of the robot—Blondie. Win was convinced it was some sort of homage to Tiffany, whom the robot seemed to have been modeled after, but it was a terrible name. It was limiting in scope, old-fashioned, and highly unoriginal, yet Akimoto had, for no logical reason, insisted on keeping it. It was almost like in getting Win to concede on the name, Akimoto had won some sort of important battle. Odd.
At the same time, on the most important piece, Akimoto had seemed less concerned. Nonchalant, even. It made zero sense. The changes Akimoto had insisted upon gave Martin Global the intellectual property rights to the artificial intelligence technology used to create Blondie. Granted, the purchase price for these rights was astronomical—Akimoto was going to be a very rich man—but the technology he had created was groundbreaking, its applications widespread. Win would be able to develop some of the most exciting and innovative products imaginable because of it.
It was unfathomable to him that Akimoto would give this up. So unbelievable that Win had taken the extra step of making sure his lawyers explained it clearly to him several times. Akimoto still hadn’t cared. Crazy.
At least things would end on a high note. Win had read Elle’s prepared remarks. They were clever, intelligent, and sincere, just like she was. And there was no doubt she would nail the delivery. Elle was the most charming woman he knew. She had the uncanny ability to connect with anyone—from the housekeeper and gardener to lawyers and CEOs. His wife had even worked her magic on Akimoto last night. Yes, the crowd would absolutely love her. That she could speak Japanese was icing on the cake.
Win was proud of Elle. She was a good wife. Things hadn’t always been perfect between them, but what marriage didn’t have ebbs and flows? Could their sex life have been more robust? Sure. Could Elle have been more engaged in his business? Most definitely.
Win thought about Cheryl, his former VP of Finance. A Wharton grad, she understood the way his brain worked in a way no else could. Whereas Elle often seemed bored by his many business ventures, Cheryl found them all fascinating and had interesting suggestions and ideas of her own. The two of them shared a special camaraderie, and he was probably emotionally closer to her than was appropriate for a married man. Yet he had still been shocked when Cheryl told him she wanted more out of the relationship. Win would never leave Elle. He had made a commitment to her and to their family, and he would see it through.
It was the same with Ainsley. Elle had confirmed his own suspicion that she seemed inappropriately attentive toward him. Flattering as it may be, Win was not tempted. Sure, the idea of multiple young and attractive sex partners was appealing—he was, after all, a normal, red-blooded male—but cheating on his wife and potentially destroying his family was something Win would never consider.
Infidelity was dishonest. Dishonesty was unacceptable—a refuge for the weak.
Perhaps he and Elle had rushed into things a bit with their whirlwind courtship—it wasn’t unusual for guys returning from long tours away to get engaged quickly—but Win knew with certainty Elle was a good choice of life partner in all the ways that mattered most: she was honest, faithful, trustworthy, kind, and generous. Most of all, she had been an excellent mother to his children; in this area, his wife was beyond reproach.
It made perfect sense as to why Elle was now feeling a bit lost—her job was ending. Their children were nearly grown and didn’t need her as much. Perhaps she was even going through menopause. He should have realized all of this and been more sympathetic to her situation.
Now that Win understood the problem, he could fix it. If opening a shelter for teens would make Elle happy, he would support her one hundred percent. Just talking about the idea had energized her. She seemed happier. She had engaged with him in real conversation with real meaning. And the sex—it had been amazing. As passionate as when they had first married. In this respect, Win wished he had paid more attention to what Elle had been feeling. The happier she was, the more sex they would have. He would remember that.
Win reflected on his children. Yes, Elle had been an exemplary mother. He was
proud of them, too.
Brynnie was driven, independent, and smart. Smarter than he had ever been. He couldn’t wait until she came to work with him at Martin Global. Sure, it wouldn’t be right away. As with so many young people before her—hell, he had even considered joining the Peace Corps—Brynnie was armed with a naive idealism that made entering corporate America anathema.
So be it. Let her go plant vegetables on an organic farm and build a house with Habitat for Humanity. Brynnie’s unflinching adherence to her convictions would eventually fade and everything wouldn’t be so black and white to her. In due time, she’d start shaving her armpits again, grow out her hair, and get a nice boyfriend. (He had to admit to being relieved when Elle reported she wasn’t a lesbian.) So, yes, Brynnie would sow her oats for a bit and then come to work at Martin Global with him. Together, they would do great things.
Win next considered Four. He was a good kid at heart, but maybe they had been too easy on him. He would benefit from a little hardship and discipline. Win certainly had. He had also been a bit of a momma’s boy, and the Naval Academy had made him into a man. It would be the same with Four. Yes, the Naval Academy would be perfect for him. Playing lacrosse there would also be ideal. Win trusted the coach; his son would be in good hands. After his stint in the Navy, Four could join Brynnie at Martin Global. He’d be a natural in sales. Satisfied with this plan, Win made a mental note to follow up with the Navy lacrosse coach when they returned home.
Home. Win couldn’t wait to get back. His head was spinning with ideas on applications for the newly acquired technology. He hadn’t been this invigorated by work in years. This was his chance to leave his mark, to make a real difference.
Win had promised Elle he would give up work within six months, but this would no longer be possible, not with these new developments. Elle would understand. The technology Martin Global had acquired would change lives. Besides, he would live up to his commitment to fully support her in creating a new shelter. He’d provide contacts, funding, anything she needed. Win would also make another hefty donation to the SIDS Alliance in Jimmy’s name. He would do whatever he could to keep his wife happy.
Win couldn’t sit still. He wanted to get this dog and pony show over with. He had work to do.
Chapter Forty-Three
Kid Cudi: “Pursuit of Happiness”
June 6, 2017
1:55 p.m.
Four
That fucking robot was so jacked. Maybe it was because he was so high, but it looked exactly like his mom. She was staring right at him like she knew he was stoned and didn’t approve. Four usually didn’t get paranoid after smoking pot, but it was tough with edibles. You never quite knew how the high would play out.
Fuck. Whatever was in those THC-laced chocolate bars had been some serious shit. It was almost like Four was shrooming. Going to Tokyo Disneyland baked had been like entering an alternate universe, similar to the place where the Teletubbies lived. Especially in Minnie’s house. That was wicked.
Four’s phone beeped, announcing an incoming text. It was the night before back in the States and all his friends were at Tate’s house—his parents were in Europe and he had the place all to himself. As they could all spend the night, everyone had raided their parent’s medicine cabinets and a massive pharming party was in play. Prescription pill parties were always insane, and from all the Snapchat stories Four was getting, he could tell some wild shit was going down.
The text was from Mercer: How’s the sushi, bro? We’re missing ya
Four looked around the room to make sure his dad wasn’t watching and texted back: I hear you’re the one that’s been eating some sushi of late
Beep.
Mercer texted back: ?
Four looked around again, hoping no one heard the noise. He turned the ringer off and stealthily typed at his phone with two fingers: I heard about your Netflix and chill with some blonde piece of ass
Mercer: Fuck man, I wish. You’re thinking of Thatcher
Four: Thatcher? Really? Who’s that scrub fisting?
Mercer: IDK some pubie skank. She’s blowing him 24/7
Four: Gotta love a pubie—country day chicks would never service you like that
Four was bitter. It sucked ass to miss all the fun with his friends. Sure, the past week or so hadn’t been all bad. Ainsley was a fucking dime—getting sucked off by those lips would be something else. And he had had some laughs with Brynnie. Once she had dropped her judgey attitude she was much more fun to be around. Even his mom had been more chill.
Still, Four needed to be more careful around his mom moving forward. It had been a stupid call to ask for champagne in the limo. He had been massively hashed and hadn’t thought it through. Elle was sure to be onto his drinking now. Four didn’t think she was the type to snoop around too much, like Grayson’s mom, Aubrey—she was all up in his grill, reading his texts and stalking his social media accounts—but he’d need to take some more precautions.
It shouldn’t be hard. It’s not like he had a problem. Sure, he partied on the weekends—everyone did—but it wasn’t like he was one of those guys who lit up every day. Four didn’t need the weed, that was for sure. It was just a bonus for when things were boring. And he knew better than to smoke during lax season. That shit would come up on a drug test. In season, he limited himself to drinking or shrooming.
But Four would make sure to be more careful. Like he wouldn’t risk traveling with THC again. He had figured no one would search the private jet of a wealthy American, so when the guy in the uniform had come onto the plane he had almost shit himself. He was sure he would be caught, and all he could think to do was run to the bathroom and flush his supply down the toilet. It turned out the guy was just sent to help escort them off the plane, which had been lucky. His stash was safe. But still. Fuck, that was close.
Brynnie was right: bringing the edibles had been a twat move. From now on out, he’d curtail his use around his parents. It would be hella bad if they found out about his extracurricular activities. Win and Elle would rage.
Four felt his phone vibrate.
It was another text from Mercer: Fuck man, just found out Thatcher in trouble again. That pubie—she’s saying he like assaulted her or something. IDK will let you know when I hear more.
Shit. That sounded serious. Thatcher could be such an idiot. Why would he trust a public-school girl? That was stupid. Four wouldn’t tell his mom about this. She was already a Thatcher hater. Anyway, Thatcher’s dad would get him out of it, just like he had with the Snapchat to Jacinda and that whole deal when he sold his Adderall. Good thing, too—the drug had saved Four from failing chemistry. The picture of the test Easton had taken the previous year had also helped. It wasn’t cheating, not really. If a teacher was stupid and lazy enough to use the same test two years in row, what did they expect?
Four began to text back when a picture popped up on his screen. It was from Tabby: a shot of her boobs in a bright-yellow string-bikini top. They were slammin. Perfectly round and perky. God, I miss those tits.
Four missed Tabby. More than he thought he would. And not just the sex, though it had been a long ten days of going without. He missed being around her. She was prime.
Four looked at the picture again. Tabby’s boobs were luscious. He could feel himself getting hard.
Fuck me. Four shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to think about something else. Anything. He even looked up at the freaky fucked-up robot, but it didn’t help. It was too late. He had a full-on boner. What did he expect? Tabby always did it for him. Four crossed his legs, covered his crotch with his hand, and hoped no one would notice.
He texted Tabby back: 1 more day miss u
Four thought of all the guys at the party. Tate would probably try to make a play for Tabby in his absence. He was a dick in that way. Should he text Mercer and ask him to keep an eye on Tate? Nah. He trusted Tabby. She was a good girl. Plus, he had seen from the pictures that Hadley and her crew of field hockey p
layers were at the party. They were always thirsty. Maybe Tate would just bone one of them. Then again, Tate could be a real douche. He should protect Tabby.
Four shot a quick text to Mercer: Tell that narp Tate to stay away from Tabby
Remembering the news about Thatcher, he added hastily: Keep me posted on Thatcher
Brynnie elbowed Four, trying to get his attention. He lifted his head. His dad was looking right at him. Shit. Had he seen him texting? Did he see his chub? As the two made eye contact, Win winked at his son. Nice. He hadn’t seen anything.
Four didn’t want to disappoint his dad, not ever. He respected him way too much. Still, he needed to figure out a way to get him off the Navy kick he was on. The Naval Academy? No fucking way! That was the last place Four wanted to go. It wasn’t even like going to college, with all the rules, regulations, and what not. No, the Naval Academy was not for him. Four wanted to go somewhere near a beach so he could surf.
What could he do? Maybe the best bet was to go ahead and commit to play lacrosse for Navy. The coach had made an offer already, and it would only be a verbal commitment. Verbals didn’t mean shit. Guys changed their minds all the time.
Yeah, that’s the way to go. He would commit to Navy when he got home. It would be perfect— he wouldn’t have to go through all the recruiting bullshit like everyone else. He could go out and party after games with all the other committed guys. What would it matter if he were tired and played like shit the next day? It wasn’t like he would need to impress any coaches. And there was no way in hell he was going to do a PG year. Fuck that. Besides, it would shut up any of the dickweeds who thought he wasn’t crack enough to play DI. Fuckers. It’s not like any of them scored four goals in the state championship game. Skrrrt! And his game-winner was filthy—not many other players had the hands for that many fakes.
Grannie Panties Are UnderRated Page 29