by Taylor Kole
“Walt worked very hard, and has achieved much,” Kendra continued, “But he has faults. He can be egocentric, grandiose at times, too optimistic,” she chuckled lightly at the last observation. “But considering his position, he handles it better than most would.”
“Thank you, Kendra. That is good to know,” Marci’s eyes flicked in Corey’s direction.
Although he remained disoriented, he nodded.
“But...” Kendra posed the word as a question.
Before Marci answered, Corey said, “But does he have a dark side?”
Both ladies swiveled toward him. Marci displayed a tight frown of annoyance. Kendra seemed a bit surprised, perhaps a little concerned, as if she worried he knew of some past horror he shouldn’t.
Kendra exhaled and said, “You get older, life piles on stresses, death approaches and it becomes harder to smile at everything. You worry you haven’t left a mark, that everyone is out for their own interest, and Walt has bouts of that. I’m sure he would agree he could be a better father, give more to charities—although in the last six months, he has come to believe they’re rackets—and be a better husband. But he’s not having bums kidnapped for use as players in morbid games. He’s not funding terrorists who kill because they hate content and happy people. He’s a fallible man who I believe has good intentions, and whom I support one-hundred percent.”
Corey registered that if she backed him one-hundred percent, she might be a cheering participant at one of his kidnapped-bum events, and that the most popular destination for the road to good intentions was better left unnamed.
“We don’t have concerns with Walt,” Marci said.
Snapping back into his role, Corey shook his head in agreement. They didn’t.
“Corey has some social issues, is all.” Marci added. “He sometimes forces his foot in his mouth, up to his ankle.”
He shrugged. “I have before.”
Kendra spread her hands as if to say, “That explains it: Corey’s fault.”
“We all have our issues,” Marci said. After a peek at Corey, she continued, “and we’ve mentioned, Dream Riding is new to us. We have conflicting visions about methodology, but nothing serious enough to stop us from servicing Walt.”
Corey adjusted his posture, but with both women appraising him, and no arguable defense, he stayed silent.
Kendra beamed. “That’s great to hear, because I considered the thousand-dollar-a-day offer to visit Chicago so generous you’d reply within minutes, but days later and… nothing.”
Corey’s stomach knotted. Sweat dimpled his lower back. He repressed a dry heave by clearing his throat.
Marci interlaced her fingers and placed them on across her knee. “Thousand-dollar-a-day offer?”
“Just for the per diem. We would also pay your fee, and book you for a week, if Walt could receive two rides during those seven days, he’d be satisfied.”
Marci kept her hand folded and her attention on Kendra, but Corey noticed a redness spreading across her face, reaching her ears. Her jaw muscles flexed. “And you sent this offer in an email?”
Frowning, Kendra looked to each of them, “You do check your messages on Dreamriders?”
“Rigorously,” Marci said as her hands tightened around one another.
Kendra shrugged. “Things have been known to get lost in cyberspace. Like all ‘advancements,’ the internet is a blessing and a curse.”
Corey’s hands leaked sweat, but he refused to wipe them.
Marci’s grin threatened to crack a molar.
“Either way,” Kendra said. “We’ve made the deal more generous, more relaxed.” She unzipped the case.
Before she opened it, Marci spoke: “We agree sight unseen.”
Kendra paused, “Great, but so I fulfill my obligation, allow me to recite it for you.” She removed a few pages and read, “Seven thousand as a per diem, plus your usual fee for any ride, along with an additional five-thousand dollars to be paid if you will have a meeting with Walt before the Dream Ride.” Her smile knotted Corey’s stomach. “He’s being secretive about the meeting, but he can’t hide his excitement.”
“We graciously accept,” Marci said. “When would he like to begin?”
“He’s very eager to see you, so I would say, the sooner the better. A private jet waits in a hangar at the executive airfield. You provide a date and time and we’re off.”
“We can leave tomorrow, Friday night, anytime after six,” Marci said. “Due to my job, I would like to stay just for the weekend, negotiate a fitting rate, and fly home Sunday night, but if it’s do or die with Walt, I can use some vacation days and deal with a ticked-off supervisor.”
“I’m sure Walt would be amenable to your wishes. His only focus is another Ride, and a face-to-face meeting with the both of you.”
“Wonderful,” Marci said.
Corey cleared his throat. “Maybe we should return Saturday night. Janey’s been talking about Sunday school all week.”
Marci inhaled through her nose and without looking in his direction, addressed Kendra, “So tomorrow night until Sunday night, if that works for you.” With a glance to Corey, she added “I’m sure Lisa can handle taking Janey to bake cookies.”
“We have a deal.” Kendra stood, and extended her hand to each of them. “Since there could be some issues with emails, I’ll make sure I also text you the flight details. Maybe I should call for verification?”
“Messaging us through Dreamriders.com will work fine. Between the two of us, we check it hourly.”
At the door, Kendra said, “I look forward to seeing you then, and remember, Walt is not only a good man, he’s an extremely powerful man.”
“Tell him we can’t wait to provide our services for him,” Marci said.
As soon as the door closed, Marci faced Corey with crossed arms. Seeking Janey, he wanted to call her inside for use as a buffer.
Marci took position in front of the glass slider. “I won’t live like this, Corey. I won’t spend my life with someone who works to undermine our family.”
He tugged on his ponytail. Was she talking about leaving him? He’d never considered that option. He also couldn’t defend his actions. He should apologize. She should see his point and avoid Walt.. He met her eyes.
“Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. We’re going to work with Walt. Tomorrow. Period. Prepare yourself.”
Corey wiped his hands across his thighs. Tomorrow was the day he could lose his sanity, or worse.
ELEVEN
While flying on a private jet, Corey remembered that carrying resentment was like dripping acid upon the fibers of marriage. Since he was the only one at fault, it was on him to get them back to a unified front. He started by complimenting Marci on how she handled the Kendra meeting.
Even with the big check forthcoming, Marci decided to keep her job for now. He told her how admirable that was. He marveled at how well she packed the suitcase. She stayed quiet as he praised the private jet’s design, its plush interior, the friendly stewardess. Marci ignored him by reading a Gillian Flynn novel. Near the end of the flight, she said Gone Girl was an underrated movie. He considered that a good sign, but couldn’t be sure. He also knew he didn’t have many more incidents where he made her this mad.
Even Marci, his amazing, strong, and loyal wife, had a limit to how much she could take before realizing her life might be better without Corey in it.
When the jet touched down, his mind returned to the Jinn. Had their meeting on the dream balcony been a chance encounter, or had the Jinn sensed some kind of weakness and chose him over Marci? Did Corey possess some wicked attributes that made it comfortable with him? He didn’t feel wicked, but he’d been selfish. He’d abandoned his career to stay a regular guy, which was in the process of backfiring. Perhaps the Jinn appreciated the type of man who would erase an email that benefited his wife to save himself discomfort?
Even as they boarded the palatial elevator of the Denmark building, destined for Walt Zimb
ardo’s corner penthouse, Corey still wanted to be selfish. Being here was stupid. He interlocked his hand with Marci’s to keep from turning and leaving.
They hadn’t spoken much, but Corey knew her well enough to know she would be thinking about the upcoming meeting Walt requested before his Dream Ride.
Corey knew they needed the money. He continued on to prove to himself that he cared more about his family than his comfort. That didn’t mean they were doing the right thing.
“Welcome, welcome,” Kendra said as she opened the ornate door and beckoned them into a foyer dimly lit by a four-decked chandelier. Dark cedar walls stretched down a long hall with mocha-colored granite floors polished to a high sheen. “It is so wonderful to see you again.”
The women shared a light hug, where their hips stayed feet apart. Kendra’s brown and gray hair had been swirled into a bun. She dressed semi-casual in a dark blouse, slacks, and quarter-inch heels.
Corey had never been in a millionaire’s home, but quickly understood the appeal to coming home to this every night. Sealed double-doors with golden knobs were positioned to his left, while the right doors were opened to allow a view of a showroom. Vases important enough to command overhead lighting hugged the outer walls of the room. Suits of armor formed a row down the center, seeming to start with the most ancient—a leather tunic—traveling up through the dark ages and ending with a complete set of Samurai accouterments, which appeared to have tortoise-shell protection at the shoulders and thighs.
Pacing away from the foyer brought them toward an increasingly dimmer setting. Kendra slowed before a painting—its 40 watt LED bulb was the only light at this end of the hall. “That’s an original Salvador Dali,” Kendra said.
As an academic studying the influence of dreams on impactful figures, he had run across Salvador Dali’s work numerous times. Using surrealism, the 20th century artist painted abstract images he either recalled from a dream, or in a style meant to replicate the feel of a dream. This piece, End World, depicted stick-like people wandering aimlessly in an expansive desert. Triangular rock formations jutted out of a desert; near the rock base, a human face with closed eyes and a sealed mouth pushed up from the sands. The features were near identical to a Jinni. The eyes had similar dimples. He even saw a whorl in the sand where it’s body would be. Drawn in, he must have lost track of time, for when he turned to seek Marci’s opinion, he found himself alone. He hurried after the distant footsteps.
Rounding a corner brought them to an expansive room lit by a dozen gently illuminated orange filaments along the wall. The slanting full moon, along with the dancing glow of a fire crackling at the opposite side of the room gave the room an equal amount of light. A skyline of Chicago waited beyond the wall of dominant windows. Lake Michigan looked like a black rippling sheet being blown by a strong fan. Corey paced closer. Marci floated to the spot beside him. Though taller buildings existed in Chicago, the placement of the Denmark granted them views of both the peace and the bustle of a Saturday night in the Windy City, and the world’s fifth largest freshwater lake.
“There’s my two favorite people,” Walt said, turning them toward his voice. The man rose from the chair at the end of a mahogany table long enough to act as the deck of a racing yacht.
Surprisingly, as Corey faced their host, shame overwhelmed him. The man beaming with merriment simply wanted to experience the wonders of Dream Riding, and Corey had forced him to grovel for the pleasure. Walt wasn’t privy to Corey’s hang-up. Standing here now, Corey wondered what type of suffering he had caused this man. The fact that his selfishness might lack merit doubled the offense.
Closing the distance in nine quick strides, Corey accepted the man’s outstretched hand. “Thank you for inviting us into your beautiful home.”
Marci cast a wide-eyed glance at Corey when she reached them.
“I hope this will be the first of many visits,” Walt said.
Marci had insisted they purchase new clothes for the meeting. Once dressed in them, Corey agreed. As he’d learned in college, clothing affected self-image. Yet their new fashions paled when compared to Walt’s. The man wore a mauve dress shirt with an oversized collar trimmed in lime green, snug jeans faded in the right places, and shoes crafted from a reptile. Add excellent skin, hair, and teeth, and there became the possibility his persona summoned the luxury all around them.
“I don’t want to sound melodramatic,” Walt said. “But it feels like I’m standing on the edge of a new frontier, meeting with my native guides.” He motioned to a dapper man sitting at the end of the kingly table. “This is Mr. Lattimore. He’s my attorney in all matters and provides a litigious Iron Dome around my interests. He may be reserved, some might call him the most ruthless man in America, but he’s simply a legal savant, here for our mutual benefit.”
Rather than add levity with a smile or remark, Mr. Lattimore glanced up from his tablet, eyed the two arrivals, and returned his attention to the glowing screen. With their setting, Corey couldn’t help but picture the attorney as the consigliore to an international mob boss, or because of the crackling fire behind him, one of hell’s gatekeepers.
Noticing Marci’s singular focus on the man, Walt added. “You’ll grow used to his brooding presence. You wouldn’t believe some of the claims desperate people make against me and my companies.” He nodded behind them, where Kendra waited with her hands folded near her waist. “You know my main counsel.”
“I’m gathering refreshments,” she said, “if there are any requests.”
Marci displayed her twenty-ounce bottle of Veen, the purest water in the world, given to her on the flight over. She drank the bottle’s original twenty-three dollars worth of H20, and had since filled it from a restroom tap.
“Please,” Walt pulled out the two chairs nearest to the one he had occupied. “Sit with me.”
Once situated, he studied each of them under the low lighting. After a half minute, he said, “You don’t know it yet, but tonight is the start of something that will change each of us.” He stressed the final word, and, perhaps seeing Corey’s eyes grow large, waved off the mystery. “First, let me apologize if I snored or broke wind, or did anything to disrupt your work on our last visit. Second, that was the most amazing experience of my life. Bar none.”
The clicking of a maid hurrying past the entrance echoed in the cavernous room, drawing everyone’s attention. When the couple returned to Walt, he said, “I have lived a blessed life.” He motioned to the corridor, to the high-ceiling, the spectacular view, “I understand that, but I’m forty-seven years old, and when cornered by honesty, I’m forced to admit that I have accomplished little. I’ve grown my trust at a rate rivaling quality funds. Noteworthy, but unlike my father, I’ve never shaped a nation or shifted a culture.”
Kendra returned and placed a tray with two carafes and a variety of glasses next to Walt. From a stainless steel one, she filled a mug with steaming coffee, delivered it to Mr. Lattimore, and exited.
“It’s not for lack of trying,” Walt’s voice carried a hurt Corey recognized. “I’ve gone all-in on some supreme flops. I was worried I lacked vision, until I met you lovely people.”
“We’re glad we could help,” Marci said.
“Because of you, I possess an undeniable vision of the future.”
“We appreciate that, Walt,” Marci said. “But we only unleashed something gestating in you. You’re the genius behind your new plans.”
Walt’s grin slid into a wide smile. “I’m man enough to admit you played, and play, a much larger role.”
Corey found his English grammar pinging at the past and present tense of ‘play.’ Corey wanted, at most, to see this man a couple evenings a month.
Marci scooted her chair closer to Corey. She wiped her hand on her thighs.
Corey had arrived at the Denmark building anxious. Entering the penthouse and examining the showroom and artwork helped override his previous trepidation. But sitting in this shadowy room and detecting deepe
r meaning to Walt’s words, reservation bordering on fear was creeping back in. Corey needed them to hurry past this meeting and jump into the Ride, before he dwelled on the possibility of communing with a demon.
“My epiphany directly involves the three of us. I insisted on this meeting to share in its inception.”
Mr. Lattimore rested his tablet on the table, folded his hands, and watched from twenty feet away.
“The most amazing, transcendent experience of my well-traveled life happened under your care, while I slept.” Walt rose from his chair, but kept his focus on the Padesky’s. “The second my eyes opened, a destiny greater than any previously imagined exploded in me.” He moved between them, placed a hand on each of their shoulders and said, “I want us to go into business together. We will offer Dream Rides to every rich person on this planet.”
“You want to go into business with us?” Marci stammered.
The notion of awakening an army of Jinni sent a chill down Corey’s spine.
“That’s right, fifty-fifty partners. We will use your techniques and business model, my experience and resources, and take this endeavor global.”
Corey’s throat constricted; Marci cleared hers.
There was simply no way they could consider his request.
After a few beats without receiving the expected responses, Walt’s smile faltered. He licked his lips and said, “I’m not trying to steal your company. I’m offering an above-the-board partnership, for life. To show you how serious I am, I have a contract.” He snapped his fingers at Mr. Lattimore, and after receiving a thin packet of stapled pages and sliding it before Corey, he continued, “I’m willing to hand you a check today for two-million dollars, as an advance.” He pulled a folded check from his shirt pocket, and straightened it out on the table.
It sat like a spitting cobra.
With a deftness equal to the famous serpent, Marci snatched up the check, and examined it under the moonlight.
“I have another ten million dollars earmarked for our business account. Plan for six months, maybe a year to train a staff of Dream Riders. Then, every person with the means to sniff our elixir will close their eyes with exuberance, knowing their greatest joys and pleasures will unfold. Once we germinate a half-dozen countries, we’ll be as famous and wealthy as Bill Gates, Mario Rodriguez, and Warren Buffet.”