2030
Page 29
“Are you in love with her?”
“Who?”
“Goddamn it, Matthew, answer the question.”
“I am fond of her. She is someone I need to talk to regularly. That’s all I can say.”
And with that Betsy left the office. The President thought about going after her but he didn’t want an argument in the halls of the White House with everyone listening. He would deal with it later. Hopefully this would calm down. Hell, he hadn’t slept with anyone. He hadn’t embarrassed his wife publicly. He felt he could handle this. The one thing he was confused about was why he hadn’t just said that Susanna meant nothing. Was he so involved that he felt loyal to her? Did he love her? Damn it, this was not something he needed now. Why the fuck wasn’t his wife asleep when he was? It was her fault for being awake.
* * *
Susanna was in her office when Nate Cass called.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine. I have some bad news for you.” Susanna’s heart sank. If Nate couldn’t do anything about the problem, then there was nothing left.
“Yes? What happened?”
“The President’s mother passed away in the middle of the night.”
“What?”
“At three A.M. They told me they tried everything but her body just quit. I thought you would want to tell the President first.” Susanna had to literally pinch her leg so she wouldn’t sound too excited. How good is Nate at this? To say he had bad news when he knew it was what she wanted to hear; well, he was just the best she’d ever seen. She was tempted to thank him profusely but decided to keep up the ruse as long as he did.
“Well, it’s terribly sad, and I appreciate you letting me know. I will tell the President immediately.”
“I will speak to you later, Susanna.”
“Of course. Thank you so much. I mean, thank you so much for telling me.”
Susanna wasted no time. She walked to the Oval Office and said she needed to speak to the President, that it was urgent. This time Bernstein was alone and when she walked in she just stood there with a stupid grin on her face.
“What is it? What happened?”
“Nate Cass called me. Your mother passed away last night.”
The President simply did not know how to react. Jumping up and down was not an option. But in that one moment a huge problem had just been lifted. He looked at Susanna. He wanted to kiss her. He did love her. She had just taken care of the biggest problem in his life. And she’d done it perfectly. No one else could have accomplished it. But he decided to display no emotion. He thanked her as if she had told him some Treasury news and said he wanted to be alone.
“If you need anything else, Mr. President, please let me know.”
“I will. Please tell John Van Dyke. He will prepare something for the press. Cass told you she died peacefully?”
“In her sleep. As peaceful as could be.”
“Thank you, Susanna. I’ll speak to you later.”
Susanna left the office. The President was in emotional overload. He looked at the time. It was two-thirty in the afternoon. He hadn’t had a drink before five o’clock in years, but today was going to be an exception. He pressed the intercom. “Get me a scotch and water.”
And as he waited for his drink, he knew he needed to patch things up with Betsy. He would tell her he loved her and that he was overworked, and sometimes he got too dependent on people and Susanna was one of those people. She would have to understand. Betsy was a key reason why he had been elected president and he needed her. But he needed both of them. Why was that wrong? He was the president of the United States, for God’s sake. If anyone was entitled to more than one woman, he was.
* * *
Lee Dong Wo, the grand architect of the new Los Angeles, and Shen Li, the new health minister, were not just good friends but had become a regular duo at gatherings, restaurants, and important meetings in the new city. They were like rock stars, photographed everywhere they went and written about daily.
Lee Dong was married and brought his wife and one child with him. They loved it. They were treated well and found the climate in Los Angeles, though it was hotter than in previous years, more favorable than their home in China.
Shen Li was still a bachelor. Forty years old and considered fairly good-looking, Li stood about five feet nine inches. He was a fit one hundred and fifty pounds, and one would describe him as friendly-looking. He smiled easily and often. He exercised every other day on one of the new virtual treadmills that rich people had in their homes and others could afford only at a gym. These treadmills were surrounded by moving scenery, so you could choose a mountain run, a run in the city, a run by the beach, whatever you wanted, and for the duration of your workout you felt like you were in that location. Scenery moved by you at any speed you chose, from a slow walk to a fast sprint, and when you added the wind, the sounds, and the smells, the experience was awesome.
Li had one in his temporary home in Santa Monica, a small house two blocks from the beach. The house had been severely damaged in the quake, but he had his men rebuild it quickly. His eventual home in the new city was going to be built to his specifications from the ground up, but for now, this would do.
He always had to laugh. Here he was two blocks from the ocean and he chose the treadmill “beach” setting instead. Of course, there were reasons for that. The real beach had an odor Li did not like. It was a combination of smells he couldn’t really identify, something like fishy and trashy. Some people were sensitive to it, others weren’t, but he couldn’t stand it. So he ran on the perfect beach on his treadmill. He kept in shape, he dressed well, he was famous, and he was a catch.
Friends tried to set him up when he got to Los Angeles, but he was always too occupied with the great task ahead. He had dinner with a few different women and had sex with one of them, but it didn’t amount to anything. The same way many American men liked Asian women, Li loved Americans. They were exotic to him. And he didn’t go for the blondes. He’d thought that was what he would be attracted to, but as it turned out, he was nuts over the brunettes.
He liked women as tall as he was, not taller, and he liked a good figure. He had no real preference in religion, since he was not a religious man. He could tolerate most of the faiths as long as they didn’t proselytize. He found Jewish women fun but a little annoying and he didn’t care for Baptists, but other than that, he was fine with all types. And then one Saturday he went to a barbecue and met someone.
Laura Markum was the daughter of the senator from California, Stanley Markum. She had been married once, for three years, but had no children. At thirty-three years old she was simply beautiful. If Shen Li could have had a computer design the perfect American woman, this would be her. Five-six, long brown hair, a champion soccer player in school, dean’s list at Yale, she was a prosecutor who worked in the DA’s office and was known as “the killer.” She had not lost a case in six years working for the city and now she was considering private practice, as she was being offered partner in one of the preeminent law firms in California.
Li was in the buffet line waiting for ribs when she came up to him. “I think what you are doing is fantastic. I was telling a friend of mine that the “big one” is going to turn out to be one of the greatest things that have ever happened to this country.”
Li felt his face turn red. That normally didn’t happen to him, but he was so taken by her.
“Well, thank you. Nobody would wish an earthquake this size on any city, but we are going to try to make it work in our favor.”
They sat down and ate lunch together under an oak tree. They exchanged histories and anecdotes and genuinely had a terrific time. Li was wondering what the right moment would be to ask for her connections and to try to make another date, when she beat him to it. “Are you doing anything Monday night?” she asked.
“No.”
“I’m having dinner with my father and his new girlfriend. Would you like to come?”
“I don’t believe in chances,” she said. “I’m sure this was part of a plan.”
“Well, that’s okay with me. This is a good plan.” Li reached out to give her a handshake good-bye, but instead she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and once again he turned red. “I look forward to Monday,” he said.
“I can’t wait,” she replied.
And Li left the barbecue more excited about a woman than he had ever been in his entire life.
CHAPTER FORTY
Things had gotten back to somewhat of a normal relationship for Kathy and Max. When she accepted his generous loan she felt indebted, so she channeled that into more feelings of love. But what really made Kathy feel better was her new job.
Shortly after her twentieth birthday, she took the necessary courses online and got her real estate license. She started working for one of the larger realtors in Indianapolis, Premier Properties. When she interviewed with the company’s owner, eighty-six-year-old Clyde Folsom, he liked her immediately, and the feeling was mutual. Clyde was shocked when Kathy said she had just turned twenty—he was sure she was ten years older—but he didn’t care. There was nothing wrong with someone her age selling property, especially if she was good.
Though Clyde still came to work each day, he was slowly losing interest in the business. He didn’t want to be doing this into his nineties. He had children, but none of them wanted to follow in his footsteps, which made him sad. He did not want to see the company that he’d built from nothing simply disappear. That was one reason why he was rooting for Kathy from the first day.
Kathy chose not to say anything to Max until she was hired. Her having a boss in his eighties wouldn’t go over well with him. It seemed the more Max was frustrated, the younger the age group he hated. He used to hate anyone over seventy. Now he hated people over sixty. Kathy thought it was only a matter of time before he included fifty-year-olds, too. But when she finally told him, he was surprisingly supportive. “That’s great,” he said. “Maybe when he drops dead you’ll inherit the business. I’ve heard of Premier Properties; I always see their name.” Kathy smiled. She didn’t want her boss to drop dead and she was certain she wouldn’t inherit anything since he had plenty of children.
“I’ve got some good ideas,” she said. “There’s no reason he can’t expand into other parts of the state. And his virtual showings are boring. There are better ways to show property without going there, and he’s missing out.” Max was happy she was involved with a new project, but his mind was really somewhere else.
He spent occasional evenings at Kathy’s house but he mainly stayed at home, working there during the day and sleeping there most nights. They both were so absorbed in what they were doing, even though Kathy had no idea what Max was working on, that they started to lose touch on a daily basis. She still admired him for not living the life of a rich kid with his sizable inheritance. She also admired him for trying to make a difference, and she still loved him. Bailing her out of her immediate debt was such a grand gesture; how could she not love a man who would do that? But even though Max called it a gift, Kathy knew that if her job turned into anything at all she would repay him, just so she could feel good about herself.
About two weeks after she started work, Max stopped coming to her house altogether. They had not spent the night together for ten days. “Is anything wrong?” Kathy asked him.
“Absolutely not. I’m working on something that could be big and I’ve been working really late, so I just crash.” Kathy was excited for him.
“What are you working on?”
“Just some ideas. You know what my goal is.”
“Why don’t you run for office?”
Max howled with laughter. “Right. Max Leonard. Congressman. I would rather kill myself.”
“Okay. It was just a suggestion.”
“I love you for it. I’ll talk to you later. I have some guys coming over now for a meeting.” Kathy was surprised. She didn’t know Max was holding meetings.
“Anyone I know?”
“Yes. You remember Louie?”
“The biker?”
“Yeah. He’s coming with another couple of guys. They’re passionate. I like that.”
“Is Louie smart?”
“He’s passionate. That’s more valuable. The whole point now is to actually do something, not just sit around and talk anymore.”
“Well, it sounds like you’re excited. I like hearing that.”
“I love you, baby. I’ll see you later.”
When Kathy hung up, for the first time in ages, she thought about Brian Nelson. Brian had introduced her to this whole world through Louie. If it weren’t for Brian, she wouldn’t know any of these people, including Max. And that made her a little nostalgic. She didn’t want Brian back, but she missed him, at least for a moment. However, Kathy’s job was a lifesaver, not just because she needed to make money, but because now she had something to put her energy into. It was ironic that she was in love with Max Leonard and she was working for an old. But Kathy and Max were different in one major area: Max could write off an entire age group. Kathy couldn’t. Try as she might, she couldn’t hate Clyde Folsom. And why would she? He was taking on someone who had just gotten her real estate license and giving her a chance. So what if he was drawing more tax dollars than a younger person? Here he was trying to help someone younger. Kathy knew that Clyde wasn’t doing it to spread the wealth; he was doing it because younger attractive women sold property. But selfish motives or not, Kathy finally had a job that might have a real future.
Selling real estate in the 2030s was quite different than at any time before. All properties were presented virtually in a compelling holographic style, so when a prospective buyer wanted to see the actual house or condo, they would go there already knowing they loved it. If the virtual tour was handled right, seeing the house was just a formality. Kathy even presented the “in person” visits as if the prospective buyer already owned it. She would say things like, “Are you going to paint this room?” or “Where are you going to put that beautiful painting?” If someone hesitated, she would say the house had a virtual buyer ready to close and they were going to do their “in person” tomorrow. Most people believed her and closed the deal on the spot.
Kathy sold eight properties in her first two weeks and made more money in a short time than she had ever dreamed possible. She was jazzed, and so was Clyde. He told her one day, “I’ve spent a lot of years building a business here and I would like to see it continue. My dream is that someone really smart will take this over one day and I will be a silent partner. Not too silent, mind you, but I’ll go off and do some things I’ve thought about for years, and I could still count on an income. That’s my dream. I just want you to know what my dream is.”
“I appreciate it, Mr. Folsom. I like knowing the dreams of others. One day when I know you better I’ll tell you mine.”
“That would be fine, Kathy. I would be happy to hear it.”
“Mr. Folsom, I had a thought. I think my success rate would be higher if I could be with the buyer on the virtual tour.”
“Don’t they do that at home, in their own time?”
“Yes, but there is software that would alert us and allow us to be present, which bigger cities are using but we still don’t have.”
“How much?”
“I think no more than twenty thousand.” Clyde thought about it for a moment.
“How do you know they want us there?”
“I can be unobtrusive, but it certainly can’t hurt. I would only know them better when they see the real thing.”
“Okay. Do it. I trust you.” Kathy was ecstatic. It felt so good to have an employer say he trusted her. And later that day, before she left, she stood in front of the building and looked at the sign, “PREMIER PROPERTIES,” and she imagined herself owning this company one da
y. It was such a heady feeling.
* * *
The food was better on the ship than it was in Pasadena, but not by much. Brad Miller was two weeks into the rest of his life and his day pretty much consisted of getting up at seven A.M., going down to the second deck for breakfast, sitting outside until one, taking a nap until two-thirty, going for a long triple-deck walk or a swim until four, taking a steam, and then having dinner at six-thirty. After dinner he would take another walk, and if the weather was pleasant he would sit outside until eight-thirty and then either go to bed or watch some entertainment, or maybe play cards for small amounts of money.
After a while this routine felt like a job; he dutifully passed the time as if he were getting paid for it, but it wasn’t so bad. However, he still wished the food was better. It was always buffet style on the ship. They had one fancy restaurant, which was never full because the meals there were not included; people would take visitors there or splurge on a special day, but most of the retirees did not like spending money, so the included buffet was where everyone ate.
The eggs at breakfast reminded Brad of when he was a boy at camp. They were too yellow, and though he was assured they were made from real eggs, he had doubts. The bacon was good, because how can you screw up bacon? The porridge was just okay. What he hated the most was the fruit. It was obviously from a can and it was always the same. Those peaches in syrup and those round things that must have been grapes but no one was ever sure. Is it so hard to have fresh cantaloupe?
Brad didn’t really make any close friends for several weeks, but slowly he started to look forward to seeing one or two people he enjoyed talking to, and he even developed a crush. Her name was Barbara Nestor. Barbara was seventy-nine, but Brad thought she looked like a young woman. It had something to do with her body, which still was in nice shape, but more to do with his eyes, which weren’t. She had a good sense of humor, loved to exercise, and one day, when they were in the pool, he actually got an erection looking at her behind. He felt wonderful. No pills, just thoughts, how great!