by Beck Rowland
“I’m not quitting,” Zenaida said flatly.
“And Lara? What’s your plan for the lawsuit?” Ortega asked.
Zenaida noticed Davey suddenly watching her closely. She paused and considered for a long moment. “I’m not settling,” she said finally. “It’s not about the money, it’s the principle. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“So should I start preparing a case against her?” Ortega had a grim, tight smile as she awaited Zenaida’s decision.
“Do it,” Zenaida said quietly.
“Zeny, don’t do this—” Davey began.
Zenaida held up one hand and shook her head. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but Lara didn’t leave me much choice.” Zenaida’s phone buzzed and she picked up, angry and distracted. “Yes?” she snapped.
It was her father. He spoke in a loud, clear voice. She quickly realized he was reading something to her.
“Local Overnight Millionaire Scammed Best Friend, Left Parents in Trailer Park,” he read. “This is on the newspaper’s front page, Zenaida.”
“Dad, I—,” Zenaida stammered. She was at an utter loss for words.
“Three weeks ago, local resident Zenaida Ruiz swindled a Chinese tech giant out of $55 million dollars. Yet despite her new fortune, Zenaida had none to spare for friends or family,” her father continued. “Zenaida has refused to pay several months of overdue rent to one of her closest friends, and has left her parents languishing in Westside Trailer Park.”
“Dad, it’s not what it sounds like. I can explain everything,” Zenaida said.
“That thing with my pension account, that was you, wasn’t it?” her father asked. “Why didn’t you tell us, Zeny? Why on Earth would you keep this a secret?”
“Just… just let me explain. I’m coming over now,” Zenaida said. She hung up and looked around the room.
Mike, Davey and Ortega stared at her.
Zenaida smiled sadly. “That answers the question of Tucksworth’s counterattack. Looks like he didn’t have any trouble getting a story about me in the papers,” she said.
Zenaida summoned an Uber X and sat in silence as the driver whisked her across the city. She wasn’t sure what she would say to her parents. They would be hurt that she hid the news from them, and even more hurt when she explained the reason. There was no way through the conversation that wasn’t painful. Her phone buzzed again and she checked carefully, then picked up. It was Davey.
“You know the lawsuit was never Lara’s idea,” Davey said as soon as she picked up. Zenaida groaned internally. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Not right now.
“Don’t care,” Zenaida said.
“It was all her crazy mom. Can’t you just talk to her?” Davey said. Zenaida scoffed. What was talking supposed to do?
“Not a chance Davey. I don’t care whose idea it was. Lara went along with it,” Zenaida said.
“Her mom is forcing her,” Davey said. “You know how Karen is. The woman’s crazy!”
“Davey, do you know how thrilled I was to share my good fortune with Lara? I was practically bursting with excitement,” Zenaida said. “Then she turns around and uses our shared history as a bludgeon against me? It’s a betrayal, plain and simple.”
“You don’t think I felt the same way when Lara let her mom pressure her into dumping me? I haven’t spoken to her since,” Davey said.
“Exactly, and that’s just what I plan to—”
“But I still miss her, all the time. She’s one of your best friends. If you lose her, you’ll always regret it,” Davey said. Zenaida paused, momentarily at a loss for words. She had assumed Davey got over the breakup ages ago. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might still be harboring feelings for Lara.
“I’m sorry, Davey, I really am,” Zenaida said. “But I can’t move past this.”
“You need Lara’s help,” Davey said. “With Tucksworth, with this whole ZenCorp thing. You’ve always been able to produce these brilliant ideas, but you need Lara to help narrow your focus. I’m the enthusiastic hype-man that helps keep you motivated, but she’s the smart critical thinker that refines your rough ideas into diamonds.”
Zenaida fumed. She knew it was true, that was what made it so infuriating. But what was she supposed to do? Crawl over to Lara and beg her to withdraw the suit, while Karen crowed over her shoulder all the while? She shook her head. “I can’t, Davey. Cannot and will not.”
“You remember how I passed the IT Certification exam last week? They just gave me a call: I won’t be awarded the certificate after all. Turns out Jack Tucksworth provides 42% of the Certification Board’s annual funding,” Davey suddenly announced.
“Oh no, Davey… God, I’m so sorry,” Zenaida whispered. She suddenly felt nauseous. Davey had been working on the certificate for months, since back before the ZRWG domain was even a twinkle in Zenaida’s eye. She could only imagine the countless nights of studying, hard work and sacrifice her friend had poured into that certificate. Now it was gone forever.
“I let you drag me along on your crazy mission against Tucksworth,” Davey said. “Did you know I could end up as collateral damage?”
“Of course not,” Zenaida said. “Davey, I had no idea. I didn’t think—”
“That’s right, you didn’t think,” Davey said. “You just assumed we could take on a billionaire and everything would be fine. That is exactly why we need Lara: so that the next time you pick a fight, at least one of us is there to give you a reality check.”
“Davey, I’m sorry about your certificate, I really am. But I’m not talking to Lara, no matter how many ways you ask,” Zenaida said.
“Alright,” Davey sighed. “In that case, the next time you want to throw down with a billionaire? Don’t call me.”
“Davey I— hello?” Zenaida said. She stared at her phone in disbelief. Davey had hung up on her.
Zenaida rubbed a hand over her face and sighed. She had consistently underestimated Tucksworth, she knew. Or to be more precise, she had underestimated the power of his money. In a matter of days, Tucksworth had countered her plan, driven a wedge between Zenaida and her closest friends, and upended her relationship with her parents. She had been crushed, utterly and completely. The rich were winning yet again.
Zenaida rapped on the door of the trailer, then let herself in. Her father was in his favorite recliner, her mother sitting at the table. When they saw Zenaida, their faces no longer showed the untarnished happiness she usually saw when she came home. Instead, Zenaida saw a heartbreaking mix of hurt and confusion.
“Dad, Mom…” Zenaida began. She had tried planning out the conversation in the car, but hadn’t been able to come up with anything. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Zeny, honey, you look exhausted. Why don’t you start by having something to eat?” Mom said.
Zenaida shook her head. “I already ate,” she said.
“Some hot cocoa then. You sit here and tell us what’s going on. I’ll microwave some water,” Mom said. She stood from the table and pulled Zenaida over, then gently pushed her daughter into the seat. Zenaida started to resist, but a mug of cocoa did sound nice. It would be good to have something to sip on while telling the story.
“Alright Zeny. Your mother and I aren’t mad at you,” her father said. “Taking over my pension fund, that was very generous. I was able to quit the Wal-Mart job, and we’ve been house shopping ever since. But we are hurt. Since you moved out, you’ve kept us at a distance, not letting us know what’s going on, and we’ve always respected that. But this—” he tapped the newspaper, which was still folded on the table, “— this is hard to ignore.”
“I know Dad, and I’m sorry,” Zenaida said.
It was all true. When her parents were no longer able to help Zenaida pay for college, she had told them she’d take loans and they shouldn’t worry. Then when her credit was destroyed by identity theft, she hadn’t mentioned anything to them. The s
ame when she was denied additional loans, and when she had to drop out of school, and when she began struggling financially, sinking deeper into debt with each passing year. The last time she had seen her parents, she had been on the verge of homelessness, and she hadn’t breathed a word of her troubles to them.
Zenaida’s mother walked over and handed her a warm mug of hot cocoa. The mug was a souvenir from a trip to some Disney theme park, back when Zenaida was seven or so. A relic of a simpler, happier time. The printed Mickey face was worn and faded, and the cocoa inside was the cheap powdery type with little marshmallows that were closer to sweet styrofoam than anything else.
Zenaida thanked her mother with a nod, then took a sip. It was watery and not very good, but the taste was pure nostalgia. Somehow, it was exactly what Zenaida needed at the moment.
“I’ve been having money trouble,” Zenaida admitted. “A lot of it, for years now. I didn’t tell you guys because I knew you wouldn’t be able to help, and because I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Oh Zeny, we knew that,” Mom said. She sighed, then ran a hand through her hair. “Nobody your age comes to use their parent’s laptop when they want to go online, or carries a cellphone with a broken screen, or tapes up holes in their sneakers, unless they’re hurting for money. I suppose these days, the only kids of your generation not in a bad spot are the ones whose parents made out better than we did.”
“We never raised it with you because we wanted to respect your privacy,” her father said. “And I suppose… well, like you said, there was nothing we could do to help anyways.”
Zenaida nodded, then sipped her cocoa before continuing. “Well, what you might not know is how hard I kept trying to make things better. Selling white label electronics from Vietnam, starting a blog, selling T-shirt designs, anything I could think of. I didn’t achieve anything more than a bunch of extra credit card debt.”
“Now why wouldn’t you tell us about that part? We could have helped there. Maybe not with money, but your father has years of business experience, and I have plenty of free time. A helping hand couldn’t have hurt,” Mom said.
Zenaida hesitated. This was the part she had dreaded. She took a breath and let everything out. “Because I was afraid. Every time I had some money-making scheme, there were two voices inside me. One voice said there was every chance it could work, and that I should try my best to make it a reality. The other voice said that I was wasting my time, wasting my money, wasting my life on crazy, impossible schemes. I was just so scared of being like….” Zenaida paused again. Hesitated.
“Go ahead,” Mom said in a gentle, soft voice.
“I was scared of being like you,” Zenaida finished. “Mom, how many thousands of dollars have you sunk into Get Rich From Home scams, or Nigerian Princes, or selling Tupperware? And what do you have to show for it? You’ve fallen for every scheme in the book. I was so afraid that I wasn’t any different, so I kept my distance and worked out my ideas on my own, praying that one of them would work.”
Zenaida realized she had been holding her breath, and let it out in a long, shaky sigh. She stared at her cocoa, the marshmallows dissolving into a soft white foam. She didn’t want to look at her mother, but finally she risked a glance.
She had expected to see hurt, or perhaps anger. What she saw instead was a gentle smile of pride and relief. It suddenly struck Zenaida how much her mother and her looked alike. Crows feet, wrinkles and laugh lines marked the age on her mother’s face, along with streaks of gray in her hair, but they had the same sharp eyes and brown skin.
Mom cleared her throat. “When you were buying that website, how did you feel? Which emotion that kept you going, even though deep down, you probably knew it wasn’t going to work?” she asked.
“Desperation,” Zenaida replied instantly. “My job was a joke, I was drowning in debt, and I was a few days from being kicked out of my best friend’s apartment. I was desperate for something to work.”
Mom nodded slowly. “And now imagine: how much stronger would that feeling have been if you had a child? A daughter that you knew needed your help, but there was nothing you could do?”
And suddenly, Zenaida understood her mother entirely. Mom had stumbled across a hundred Internet scams and fallen for them every time, but it hadn’t been due to greed, nor stupidity. Her mother had never been a stupid woman. Instead, she had been blinded by sheer, utter desperation. She was blinded by love for her daughter, who she was so desperate to help that she had simply tuned out the voices warning her away from danger. If it looked like it could help, even if it was a minuscule possibility, her Mom had chased after it with dogged persistence.
“Your mother may have lost some money here and there,” her father admitted. “But her heart was always in the right place.”
Zenaida sighed, then wiped away tears. She was suddenly tired, so tired. “I was going to tell you guys eventually. I just wasn’t ready, and I didn’t know how Mom would react,” Zenaida said.
“By being proud of my daughter,” Mom said. She came across to Zenaida and wrapped her in a warm hug. “My little girl went out into the world and made a fortune. The paper said you’re worth $55 million dollars. Is that true?”
Zenaida nodded. “Maybe a little less now. I’ve bought a few things since then.”
“You made your dreams come true, and gave a huge helping hand to your father and I. We’re so very proud of you,” Mom said.
“What are you going to do? You’ve got enough money to do anything you want. You must be having a blast,” Dad said.
And that’s how Zenaida ended up telling her parents about the impotent, toxic rage she had felt during those years of poverty, and her decision to use her wealth to pursue justice—or revenge, but what was the difference?— against the ultra-rich. She told them about Jack Tucksworth, and how the Peeper data leaks had affected her life, and how she had fought to keep him from getting the DataVortex program. Finally, she explained her failure, and how Lara was suing her, and even Davey wasn’t happy with her. When she finished, her parents looked at her with an exasperated expression.
“Oh Zeny,” Mom sighed. “You’ve always gotten upset when people don’t play fair. I remember you shouting at the other kids for cheating at games on the playground. Do you remember what she did to that poor Martinez boy?”
Her father nodded, a faint smile spreading across his face. “I don’t suppose letting the past go and just enjoying a comfortable, happy, normal life is an option?” he asked hopefully.
Zenaida shook her head. Part of her wished it was possible, but she couldn’t turn a blind eye as the worst of her wealthy peers continued their exploitation of everybody else. No matter what happened, she was committed to her cause. Sitting on a beach and sipping margaritas wasn’t an option.
“In that case, would you like some advice from your parents?” Mom asked.
“Yes! Yes, please,” Zenaida said. She hadn’t realized until now that this was exactly why she had shared the ZenCorp story with them. It had been too long since she had last felt comfortable to ask her parents for help. Now, she realized that was just what she needed. “What do you think I should do?”
Dad and Mom shared a long glance, that subtle sort of telepathy that comes from long decades of marriage. Zenaida looked from one to the other, trying to decipher meaning from their gaze. Then Mom nodded, as if they had somehow reached a joint decision.
“Giving up isn’t an option,” Mom said. “It’s just not in your DNA. I know you said this Tucksworth character already has the Data-whatsit program. That doesn’t mean you just roll over and let him win. If you truly believe it’s dangerous, you won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t keep fighting.”
Zenaida sighed, then ran a hand through her hair. All of a sudden, she was keenly aware that she had gotten the habit from her mother. “You’re right. If I let Tucksworth get away, then I’ll let the next one get away, and the next one after that. Either I’
m in it to win it, or I’m not in it at all.”
“Fighting until it gets hard is the same thing as not fighting at all,” her father agreed. “But our next piece of advice, you probably won’t want to hear.”
“You need to make up with Lara and Davey,” Mom said. “They’re your best friends, and you’ll need them now more than ever. Not just for fighting this Tucksworth character, but for the rest of your life. They’re the friends who loved you and helped you when you were poor. You can’t buy friends like that.”
“I know that, but I didn’t do anything to Lara! She just let her crazy, greedy mother manipulate her. There’s no way I’m going to crawl over to her, begging her to stop what she started,” Zenaida said. She stood up and folded her arms. “And Davey is angry that he lost his certificate, but there’s nothing I can do about that either. Either he’ll accept my apology and get over it, or he won’t.”
“If you’re really sorry about Davey’s certificate, taking his advice and reaching out to Lara would be a good way to show it,” her father said gently.
Zenaida felt herself shutting down, but found herself unable to stop it. Perhaps it was nothing more than foolish, hurt pride, but Zenaida felt she would rather walk on broken glass than approach Lara. Her best friend had betrayed her, but everybody expected Zenaida to make the first move. It wasn’t fair. She wouldn’t do it.
“Listen, I’m glad we had this talk and thank you for your advice. You’re right about not giving up, and I won’t,” Zenaida said. She gave her parents a quick hug, then a peck on the cheek. “But if I have to fight this battle on my own, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
VII.
Case Closed
Peeper won the case that afternoon. Judge Fargo presided over the hearing and after very brief deliberations, awarded the DataVortex program to Jack Tucksworth. The news kept showing Tucksworth being handed the USB thumb drive, then hoisting it over his head like a trophy as he strutted out of the courthouse.