As the words left my mouth, I remembered the fear I felt as Stephanie tied up both of my arms. It wasn’t a genuine fear of my life or anything like that, but I certainly felt out of control, and I didn’t like that at all. My life was about controlled decision, and perhaps Ren’s dating app would be an option in my future.
“Dude you should seriously check out the Date Tonight app. It’s not like any other dating app on the market. You’ll find a match based on the questionnaires, but then you only meet up in a natural setting that the app helps to organize. It’s very popular right now.”
“Not really my cup of tea, but I’ll think about it. Can I pick a blonde named Bambi?” I joked. “Now let’s get back to this week’s investments. We need to make some decisions so we can move forward.”
“I’m dating online,” Dean added after our conversation had finished and everyone pulled out their notebooks to begin talking about investments.
“What? Really?”
I was shocked. Dean Morrison was the last guy I would have suspected would need to turn to a dating app. He probably had dozens of girls throwing themselves at him every night after his show. Most of the general public didn’t understand the nature of his financial devastation. They just thought of him as a hunky leading man who had taken to Broadway in an eccentric spur of the moment decision.
“Yeah, you can pick and choose what’s important to you. I mean, I haven’t found a match yet, but I’m still hopeful.”
“Are you using Date Tonight?” Ren asked.
“Naw, I’m on the mainstream sites, though. The problem I’m running into is that all the normal girls are busy working and not going out partying or even bothering to date. It’s hard to meet a sweet girl that wants to settle down.”
“This whole conversation sounds like a group of old men talking to each other. Come on guys; you’re not that old,” Ren laughed.
He was right. We did sound like old men as we talked about finding a decent woman and the troubles with finding them in New York City. The women always said they had a hard time finding decent men in this city, but I had to believe finding a decent woman was just as hard, if not harder.
Even though I hadn’t had many actual relationships, I had always hoped I would meet the girl of my dreams and settle down and have children someday. It had seemed inevitable that I would meet a nice girl sooner or later. But as I slid down the hill toward forty years of age, I felt a little twinge of uncertainty at the idea I might end up like Merrick.
I was thirty-seven and had no prospects for settling down in my future. I really didn’t want to be one of those perpetual bachelors. Merrick had just turned 40 years old, and he was clearly happy with his single lifestyle. That wasn’t me. I wanted a woman to come home to. I knew it deep down; I just wasn’t sure how I was going to ever get it. New York wasn’t the best place to find a woman, even though there were millions of them.
“So what’s different about your app compared to the mainstream sites? I just don’t understand what you mean,” Dean asked Ren.
“You should join and give it a try. Basically, the app will get to know you and then find a match based on the real you that it has gotten to know. No trying to pretend like you enjoy long walks on the beach and stuff like that. The app can tell where you go workout, have lunch, work, and party. It’s a form of artificial intelligence, and the success rate is over 90% within six months.”
“What’s considered a success?”
“A committed dating relationship.”
“And the app just matches you based on the places you go?” I asked, now getting a little more interested in what was going on with Ren’s dating app.
“Not at all. It’s a complex technology that’s totally new in the field. Trust me, and give it a try. I’ll even walk you through it if you’d like.”
“Will the other person know all the places I’m visiting? I don’t want some sort of stalker.”
“No, the app will give locations that the user should try out, but they aren’t all places that a match will be at. There are lots of options, and the app doesn’t even have to match you up with the person you picked. If the algorithm thinks someone else is a better match, it will work to connect you with that person first.”
“This is some sort of serious voodoo,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah, and you don’t get to see the other person’s photo until the match has been confirmed.”
“What?” Dean yelled as he joined the conversation.
“Yeah, you’re matched based on the information, not on a person’s looks,” Ren said proudly.
“That sounds horrible,” Luke added.
“Wow, I’m not sure I could do that. How would you even know that you ran into the right girl?”
“You won’t. The point of the app was to put you in the right place at the right time so you could make the connection, but it’s totally possibly you’d meet some other girl and decide she was the right one.”
“Basically, it’s Russian Roulette with your dating life.” Dean laughed, and Luke joined in.
I could tell we weren’t going to be getting a ton of work done that day, and that wasn’t all that unusual for us. Our little investment club had grown and shrunk over the years; we were learning, and my whole goal was to help others feel confident in their money management. At the moment, we only had five people in the club, and that included Merrick, who never showed up.
Most of the guys we had before stopped coming when they started making good money in investing. I didn’t mind at all, though. Learning to control your money was the goal of The Triple T Investing Club. We required a $100,000 investment just to get into the club, so it kept the riffraff away and ensured only people who were truly dedicated to learning the craft would join. Since Merrick and I were so high up at Stanley and Associates, I couldn’t invite people from there. Plus, if they already had a job in investments, then they usually knew all the tricks and tips we were going to be talking about.
What I needed to do was find wealthy guys outside of the investment world, who wanted to be in control of their own money and not let an investor do the work for them. That was a small crowd of people for sure. Usually, the rich were just fine with someone else managing their money.
“If we aren’t going to be investing this week, let’s at least talk about recruiting. We need to bring some fresh blood into the club.”
“I talked to a guy at the gym, but the initial investment was way out of his league. Are we looking at decreasing that?” Luke asked.
It was a good point. $100,000 was a lot of money and made it hard for people to get into the club. But I didn’t want the club to be easy to get into. The free investing advice that went on in our meetings helped us each make thousands of dollars each month. Not to mention how large our club account had gotten over the years.
By not allowing people to withdraw their money in the first year, we forced dedication to the group. Our investments were making money every month, and that meant that so were we. I liked the current buy-in amount, but I liked when we used to have twenty guys in the group as well. It was certainly worth considering the lowered investment so we could get some fresh blood.
“How about this; if you find someone who is interested in buying in at fifty thousand dollars, bring them to a meeting so they can see what we do and how it’s organized. I’ll talk with them, and we can consider them on a case by case basis. Deal?”
“Yeah, I think fifty thousand will open up a lot more of my friends at work. Are you still against having Stanley and Associates traders?” Luke asked.
I liked Luke, but unfortunately, I didn’t like others at the office knowing all my personal business. There was no way I wanted to allow Stanley and Associates traders into the group. But I had moved on to managing my own fund now and really didn’t have a lot of contact with the younger associates. Hell, I didn’t even see Luke during a regular day at work, and we were friends.
“I’ll consider them, but only
if they are stand up guys, Luke. Don’t bring in some jackass who isn’t willing to learn.”
“Deal,” he said with a little smile.
Luke had always been willing to learn. He knew that he didn’t know it all, and that humble personality was why I liked the guy when we first met. I wasn’t about to let jackass know-it-alls start coming to our group and certainly not guys who couldn’t afford the $100,000 investment. If they were only going to pay half of that, they better damn well have a decent personality.
“Okay, guys. Let’s get focused here. We need to make a couple of decisions on the portfolio before we can call it a day. Open your notebooks to our long-term holdings; I’d like to discuss your opinions on thinning that part of our portfolio out.”
And just like that, I was back into my natural habitat; money.
Chapter 4
Dakota
“Yes, yes, fucking yes!” I heard Emma screaming out as I opened the studio door.
It wasn’t a shocking sound. I wasn’t fazed at all actually. The only thing surprising about hearing Emma moaning out while screwing some guy was the fact that they were still going at it as the sun had started to come up. Usually, she and her boy toy of the night would have fallen asleep by now.
Emma loved to bring guys back to the studio instead of her apartment. She said it creeped her out when they knew where she lived. I never really understood why she didn’t get creeped out when guys knew where she worked, though; that seemed just as intrusive, especially since she owned her own dance studio.
After staying out until close to four o’clock in the morning dancing, getting up at seven o’clock wasn’t something I cherished doing at all. But work came first. As much as I tried to keep my vocal clients built into a normal eight to five schedule on Monday thru Friday, it never seemed to work at all. Everyone wanted appointments in the evening or on weekends, especially the younger kids.
New York families weren’t at all like the families I knew when I was growing up. When I grew up, families didn’t have packed schedules for their kids that constantly involved being occupied. We had time to be kids and hang out and sit and do nothing, but not the kids I dealt with. Kids that came to me for vocal coaching were part of an elite New York crowd of children. Their parents wanted what was best for them, or so they thought and keeping them over scheduled and overworked seemed to be the key.
Kids like Braxton who concentrated his life on theater weren’t the problem. Kids like Mary Beth Henderson were what were totally wrong with New York society and young children. Mary Beth would probably have been a relatively decent little girl had her mother not ruined her. Ruth Ann Henderson was a wretched woman whose whole life purpose seemed to be making everyone around her as miserable as possible.
Despite me consistently telling her that early Sunday mornings were not available for appointments, she consistently made her appointments for early Sunday mornings. I used an online scheduling system and had tried desperately to fix it so people couldn’t schedule appointments until at least noon on Sundays, but none of my efforts seemed to work. I put a notice on my page saying appointments should be after noon on Sundays, but Ruth Ann Henderson wasn’t interested in any of my rules.
A better woman, more confident than I, would have stood up to Ruth Ann and insisted appointments were at the correct times, but I hadn’t done that. Instead, I reluctantly traipsed myself up two flights of stairs to the third floor dance studio and waited for Mrs. Henderson and her bratty 12-year-old Mary Beth to arrive.
“Quiero hacerte feliz,” a man with a Spanish accent said.
“Yes, oh yes,” Emma replied.
I just kept walking to my office and tried not to look toward Emma’s office on the other end of the studio. I made sure to slam the front door, so she knew I was there, though. It was her cue to wrap things up because I had a client coming in. The last thing in the world that I needed was Emma and her sex god making a bunch of noise when the Hendersons arrived.
Little Mary Beth Henderson wanted to make it on Broadway; her parents had her enrolled in acting, dancing, and singing lessons. The problem, as I saw it, was that little Mary Beth Henderson didn’t really like to sing at all. Sure, she showed up for her sessions and went through the exercises I gave her, but there was no spark in her singing. Even bad singers who had a passion for the craft were better than Mary Beth. A lack of emotion riddled everything she sang, and I felt bad for the poor thing. It seemed clear that she was only doing her lessons to appease her mother.
The pounding footsteps of Ruth Ann Henderson and her daughter were unmistakable. I heard them as they started their climb from the first floor and quickly ran over to Emma’s office. The heavy banging noise was a clear sign that they did not care if others were still sleeping in the building. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if Ruth Ann Henderson even realized other people existed half of the time.
“They are here; you need to be quiet,” I yelled.
“I am being quiet,” she moaned.
“Do a better job!”
I ran back to the front door in the hopes of getting Mary Beth from her mother quickly. Ruth Ann typically dropped her daughter off for an hour-long session with me and then went about doing other errands in the area. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was that she did so early on a Sunday morning; I assumed it was something related to church or shopping, but my gut said it was neither of those things. Emma always joked that she thought Mrs. Henderson had a boyfriend in the area and that was why she continued to bring Mary Beth to vocal lessons so early on Sundays. I always joked that one hour with a boyfriend didn’t seem like enough time to wedge the stick from her ass.
I took in a couple of deep breaths as I opened the front door and hoped that Emma would remain quiet. The last thing I needed was stuck up Ruth Ann Henderson hearing all the sex noises that were going on in Emma’s office.
“Hello, Mary Beth. It’s nice to see you,” I said with a fake smile plastered across my face.
Mary Beth didn’t respond to me. In fact, she didn’t even acknowledge that I had just spoken. My gaze turned toward Ruth Ann, who unfortunately did acknowledge me with a scowling glare which I couldn’t quite figure out. I had only said hello; how on earth could she be angry at me for that.
“It will need to be a long session today. Mary Beth did horrible at her audition, and you obviously need to prepare her better. I’ll be back at noon.”
Mrs. Henderson finished talking and then turned to walk away. I knew she didn’t really care if I had an objection to this sudden desire for a marathon singing lesson, but I still decided that I had to object.
“Noon?” I hollered after her. “That’s four hours’ worth of lessons. It’s not good for Mary Beth to sing that much at one time.”
“If she were in a Broadway show, she would need to be able to sing that much, so she should build up her strength. I’ll be back at noon. Do some non-singing lessons if you’d like.”
“I had only planned to stay for one hour,” I yelled down the stairs.
“Well, now you’ll stay for four.”
It wasn’t worth arguing with her. Mrs. Ruth Ann Henderson always got what she wanted. At least she never tried to stiff me for payment. If she wanted to pay me $400 for a whole morning of singing lessons, then that’s what we would do.
“Well, this should be fun,” I said as I turned to Mary Beth.
Before I had finished talking, she burst into tears. The tough little non-emotional girl hugged me and just started sobbing. I walked her into my office, and we sat down in a couple of chairs I had there. It was no use trying to talk to her until she calmed down, so I let her finish her crying and patiently held her hand to support her.
I had always felt like she was on the brink of a breakdown, and at that moment, it was clear I was right. Her little body shook as she tried to gather herself back together so we could talk. Even my hardened soul toward the Henderson family was weakening as I saw the true pain in this little girl’s eyes.
“I didn’t do that bad. She’s making me sound like I’m horrible. I didn’t do that bad.”
“I know. You’re a beautiful singer.”
The truth was that I knew Mary Beth could be a wonderful singer, especially if she could feel the music. She had the skills needed, but the lack of emotion drew out the songs and made them seem very flat and uninteresting. There was no easy way to explain that to a 12-year-old.
“We could just sit and talk for a bit if you’d like, but I think emotions are the best time for singing. What if you did that Italian song we practiced a couple of weeks ago.”
Mary Beth looked at me with her sad eyes and determination in her face as she stood up and drew in a deep breath. When the words started to flow from her, I could tell that this was exactly what she needed to find her passion. Her voice was magnificent, and the emotions in her tone made me want to weep as she belted out the best version of the song I had ever heard from her.
I watched her eyes, her face, and her whole body as she built up in confidence the longer the song went on. It was a moment I knew she would never forget; the moment she let a passion for singing actually enter her soul. Her determination to prove she was a good singer was exactly the emotional connection she needed.
“Wow, Mary Beth, that was amazing. Did you feel like it was good?”
“Oh, yes, it felt like freedom. Can I do another one?”
“Of course, anything you want. Don’t be controlled. Don’t worry about anything; just let the emotion guide you.”
Mary Beth picked song after song from the old ones we had worked on. She sang them in a rich and vibrant voice, unlike anything I had ever heard from her before. She was clearly much more excited about her own singing as she smiled after each song and asked to do another. By the time we had run out of songs to sing, Mary Beth fell back into the office chair and sipped on a bottle of water as she smiled in admiration of herself. She knew she was good; I saw the confidence in her eyes.
His Huge Rock Page 4