Hating the Rich Bastard

by Hamel, B. B.

  It’s more money than I’ve had in there in a long, long time.

  But I still don’t feel good. If anything, I feel conflicted.

  We kissed. I didn’t mean to do it. Actually, I didn’t want to do it at all.

  But he was so human, and handsome, and when he came close… I wanted it in every inch of my body.

  I kissed him back just as much as he kissed me, and I liked it. I really, really liked it.

  I grab another cab and take it to Attlewood.

  Kissing him, wanting him, that’s one thing. But taking this money on top of that…

  I never should’ve taken that check. I never should’ve cashed it.

  But it’s too late now.

  I wring my hands the whole way out to visit Nana. I’m so conflicted I can barely stand myself.

  I feel like I’m letting myself down. I like to think I have these higher minded ideals, but as soon as a rich, handsome man comes along, I throw it all away. I told myself I’d never be with a guy like my father or my brother, and clearly I’m a liar.

  I’m pregnant, to top it all off. Whenever I think it can’t get any worse, I remember that I have his baby growing inside of me. It’s the most fucked-up part of this whole thing. I can’t even tell him the truth at this point, or at least I feel like I can’t.

  I have no clue how he’d react. I’m afraid he’ll just run away, or want me to get an abortion, or something awful. I can’t stand having that happen, and I guess in my mind I feel like it’s safer not even to give him the option of letting me down.

  I’ll take care of this baby myself. He never has to know.

  But how can I keep seeing him if I plan on keeping this baby?

  The cab stops out front of Attlewood and I hop out. I tip the driver and hurry inside, feeling desperate to see my nana. She’s the voice of reason in the back of my mind, the only person in this whole world that even cares about my best interests.

  I find her sitting in her chair wearing a pair of seersucker slacks, a dark top, and a cream-colored scarf. She smiles as I come in, kiss her cheek, and plop down on her couch in my customary spot. She turns off her TV and looks at me.

  “You don’t normally show up around now, dear,” she says.

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  She laughs. “Liar. Even I know this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

  She’s not wrong. Attlewood is deep in the southernmost part of the city and I never have reason to come down here except to see her.

  “Okay, you caught me. I wanted to visit you.”

  “’Course you did, dear. I’m delightful. Now, can you grab me a drink, please?”

  I get up and obediently get her a Coors Light. She cracks it open and places it on the table next to her, but she doesn’t drink. I don’t think she ever drinks when I’m here, although she always asks for one. I think it’s just a ritual for her. Visitors mean she’s drinking a beer, because that’s the social thing to do, even if it’s too early for one anyway.

  I sit back down and glance at the TV. It’s some old western movie I’ve never seen before, but I’m sure she’s watched it a million times. She loves movies, even bad, boring ones. I don’t think she’s ever refused to watch something, although she’s not shy about telling you her opinion.

  “What have you been doing today?” she asks me.

  “Not much,” I say, meeting her gaze. “I spent some time with that guy I told you about.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “What’s his name again?”

  “Ben.”

  “Ah, Ben. Did you have a good time?”

  “He took me to this place called City Axes where you throw axes at a wall.”

  She laughs softly. “Really? Axes?”

  “Really,” I say, and launch into a description of the place. She seems interested, but as I go into the throwing mechanics, she interrupts me.

  “I’d rather hear about Ben now,” she says quickly. “If that’s okay.”

  I grin a little. Never shy about what she wants. “He’s…” I trail off. I want to say nice, but that’s not right. “Interesting.”

  “That’s a good thing. Do you like him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s… I think he’s like my dad.”

  Nana’s face clouds over like it always does when we talk about her son. “Not many people are like him, dear,” she says softly.

  “I’ve heard things about Ben… I don’t know. It worries me.”

  “You don’t want to get involve with someone like your father. If he’s bad news, you should stay away.”

  “But I don’t know if he’s bad news or what. He’s been nice to me.”

  “It’s hard to know someone without really knowing them.”

  I smile at that. Another gem of wisdom from Nana.

  “You think I should give him a chance?”

  “Honey, you’ve been visiting for, how long now? And you haven’t had a boyfriend in all that time.”

  I frown a little bit. She’s right, I haven’t had a steady boyfriend, although I’ve had a few short flings that I never bothered to tell her about.

  She’s right, though. I haven’t gotten close to anyone in a while. I haven’t wanted to, ever since my father ran off and shoved his mother into this place… I’ve been angry. I’ve been so freaking angry at him, and maybe at all guys.

  “I’m not sure this is the person I should really start with,” I tell her.

  “Maybe, maybe not. You said he’s nice to you and you’re basing your worries on rumors, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So maybe he’s not so bad. Or maybe he changed, or trying to change. People can be surprising.”

  “Sometimes,” I admit. “I don’t want to be surprised, though.”

  “What’s the point if you’re never surprised?” She clicks her tongue at me, shaking her head. “You’re always so safe, sweetie. You need to go out there and do something. Take some risks.”

  “Is that what you’d do, if you could?”

  She snorts a little. “My risk-taking days are long gone, but if I were given some more good years, you’d best believe I’d be out there living life as best I could.”

  I nod a little bit. “I’m just worried about getting in over my head. He’s really, really rich.”

  “Money’s just money. People are still people, with or without it.”

  I sigh. I guess she’s right. Money shouldn’t be a defining factor, although I did take some from him.

  I wish I could tell her about the baby, but I know I can’t. For as liberal and amazing as my nana is, she’s still a product of her time. I’m afraid she’ll be angry or disapprove or refuse to see me or something like that.

  And I’m ashamed. I know that’s playing a big part here. I’m not ashamed of sleeping with him but I am ashamed of getting pregnant accidentally like I’m some stupid teenager. I should know better, should’ve made him wear a condom, or at least not come inside me.

  I can’t change it now, though. And the more I talk with Nana, the more I think she might be right.

  I’ve played it safe for a while now. Maybe it’s time to take some risks…

  But not too many. Not too fast.

  We chat some more about more or less nothing, but I keep thinking about what she said.

  If she could, she would live her life the best she could.

  Here I am, afraid of a guy that’s nice to me and that I’m interested in. I’m afraid of him because of something he might do.

  If I’m honest with myself, I hate him a little bit. I know I do, and it’s not fair, but it’s how I feel. I’ve been programmed to hate men like him all my life. One example of a shitty, worthless man after another hasn’t left me much room for trust.

  I kiss my nana goodbye after another hour and head back outside. I decide to walk for a while and enjoy the decent day. I hit the sidewalk, angling toward the subway for when I inevitably get too t
ired.

  I don’t make it very far before my phone starts ringing. I assume it’s Nana, calling. Because I left something there, or because she needs something from the store.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hello, stranger.”

  It’s not Nana, not at all. “Hi, Ben,” I say, a little guarded.

  “I know you’re probably thinking, didn’t you just run away from me earlier today?”

  I blush a little. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to just run off.”

  “It’s okay, I’m glad you did. It gave me time to think.”

  “About what?”

  “About a business proposal.”

  I stop walking and lean up against an old, gnarled tree, the trunk smooth and thin. “You want to discuss business?”

  “Strictly business.”

  “I’m not going to be your… personal escort, if that’s what you want.”

  He laughs softly. “As much as I’d love that, no, that’s not why I’m calling.”

  “What other business could we talk about?”

  “It’s an idea, actually.” He takes a breath and lets it out. “I know I told you about needing something… new to do. Well, I think I know what that new thing is, and I want your help with it.”

  “Okay, I have to admit, I’m interested. What is it?”

  “I’m going to record an album.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You write songs?”

  “Tons of them,” he says. “I sell them all the time, but I’ve never actually recorded any for myself.”

  “How can I help with this? You’re the one with the money and the record label.”

  “But you’re the one playing magic on a piano.”

  I take a breath and let it out. “You want to hire me to play on your record?”

  “Exactly.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Listen, I thought you’d say that. Come meet me at the studio and hear my full pitch. I promise, this is all business.”

  I stare at the cracks in the sidewalk, trying to decide what to do. I’m a mess of conflicting emotions.

  On the one hand, playing on a major label release would be huge for my career. It might actually get me some recognition and I could go from teaching piano to rich kids to being a real musician.

  But on the other, it’s Ben. I’m pregnant with his baby and he clearly wants more from me. There’s no way this is going to be a simple little piano gig. There’s going to be so much more involved.

  And I don’t know if I can do it.

  Still… Nana’s words keep coming back to me. I need to live as much as I can while I can.

  Plus, I need the freaking money.

  “Fine, I’ll hear you out.”

  “Perfect. Come to the studio right now if you can.”

  “All right. I’ll see you soon.”

  I hang up and stand there, trying to decide if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life or if this is going to launch my career to the next level.

  9

  Ben

  I’m actually nervous.

  I don’t know when I became the kind of guy that got nervous. I sit down at the piano and play a little melody I’ve been working on, just to distract me a little bit.

  This is a big step for me. Even disregarding the whole Alice thing for a second, deciding to make my own music is terrifying. It’s the one thing I’ve really wanted to do for a long time but haven’t had the nerve to go for it.

  But now that Alice is in my life, I suddenly find myself wanting to live again. I don’t want to numb myself with drinking and drugs and fucking, I want to actually experience things.

  And to start it off, I want to make my own music.

  I also want to make music with her. I want to keep her close for selfish reasons, because I find her attractive, because she’s clearly talented. But above all, she rekindled this drive, and I have to see where it takes me.

  I lose myself in playing for a while. I actually don’t know how long I’m playing for when I finally look up from the keyboard to notice Alice sitting in the control room. I smile sheepishly as she hits the intercom button.

  “Very nice,” she says. “Is that yours?”

  “Yeah,” I admit. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were there.”

  “It’s okay. I could’ve interrupted you, but it was pretty good.”

  “Thanks.” I feel embarrassed, stupid. This isn’t how I wanted to start this off. “Come in here and let’s talk.”

  She nods and gets up, disappearing a second before the live room’s door opens and she steps inside. It’s like the whole room lights up, and the kiss from earlier, the laughter, the jokes, it all comes flooding back.

  I take a breath to steady myself. This has to be about business, after all. I’m not about to scare her away.

  Not for the second time today, at least.

  “Take a seat.” I stand up and move away from the piano. She hesitates but sits down at the bench, watching me carefully as I walk across the room toward a briefcase I have leaning against the wall.

  “So what exactly are we going to be recording?” she asks me.

  I open the briefcase and take out some papers. “I don’t exactly know yet,” I admit.

  “That’s not a strong sales pitch.”

  “I’m not trying to sell you, I’m trying to make some music.”

  She sighs, absently playing a tune. “This is happening really fast, you know. Have you even though about it?”

  “Yes, I have,” I say softly. “For years, I’ve thought about it.”

  “And now’s the time?”

  “What can I say. You have a good influence on me.”

  She shakes her head but she’s smiling again. I love when she smiles.

  I pull out a stack of papers and I bring them over to her. “I had these drawn up. Take a look.” I drop the stack in front of her and she stares at it for a second before picking it up.

  “What is this?” she asks, glancing through it. “A contract?”

  “Terms of our arrangement,” I say. “It boils down to a few things, if you want to hear it.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t read legalese, so yeah, please.”

  “First, it states that we will work on an album together. You’ll get songwriting credits, but I will retain all the rights to the music.”

  She frowns. “Is that normal?”

  “Yes,” I say. “You will be paid a royalty from any sales, though, at five percent of gross. It’s actually pretty reasonable.”

  “Can’t say I really know one way or the other.”

  I laugh and sit down on the bench next to her. “I know. Look, I’m not trying to rip you off. I have enough money as it is.”

  She nods. “Okay. What else?”

  “I agree to pay you a flat fee. You agree to work with me for as long as it takes to complete the project.”

  She frowns at that. “How long are we talking here?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “You could be locking me in for years.”

  “I could,” I agree, nodding. “But that won’t happen. There’s a two-year cap on the project in there somewhere.”

  “Two years,” she says softly.

  “At the maximum. I’d like to be done in six months.”

  She bites her lip and nods. “Okay. That’s not crazy.”

  “The fee will be three hundred thousand dollars.”

  I love the look on her face. She smiles and laughs a little bit at first, but quickly realizes that I’m not kidding. Her eyes bug out as she pages through the contract, eventually stopping on the relevant clause.

  “Holy crap,” she says. “You’re going to pay me three hundred thousand dollars to work with you?”

  “Up front,” I say. “That’s on top of whatever royalties you make, if you make any.”

  “Holy shit.” She blinks and shakes her head. “No way. This is too much.”

  “It’s def
initely more than any other studio musician would make, but I’m not looking at you as just some player on this.”

  “Still, that’s too much.”

  “I want you to be my collaborator. You clearly have an ear for songwriting, going by that little tune you taught me.”

  “That’s so much money.” She stands up suddenly. “I can’t do this.”

  “Alice, hold on.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re just… it’s too much.” She moves toward the door.

  “Alice.” I stand and step toward her. “You’re making a mistake.”

  She hesitates. “Why?”

  “Because I’m serious about this. You want less money? Fine, I’ll pay you less money.” I step toward her, eyes hard, staring through her body. “But I have a feeling about you. I’ve never been so energized before, so excited just to live again. I feel creative for the first time in a long time. I know it’s crazy and we barely know each other, but I think I’m right.”

  She stares at me, mouth open like she’s trying to find the words. I know I’m on the verge of pushing her away and losing her forever, but I have to take this risk.

  I must look like a psycho. I barely know her, and I’m totally aware of that. And yet I’m offering her a fucking ton of money to work with me on my passion project. She’s a total stranger and yet I have this complete faith in her… and complete desire for her.

  “If you want better terms, we’ll negotiate them. But I’m telling you, I know we’ll work well together.”

  She takes a breath and slowly lets it out. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

  “I’m very serious. I don’t do anything halfway.”

  She laughs a little at that. “I totally believe you about that.”

  I grin. “Come on. I know this is intense, but you’re talented, and I need your talent. Come work with me.”

  “Okay,” she says, sighing. “Fuck it. Why not?”

  I laugh and smile huge. “Awesome. Okay. You won’t regret it.”

  I walk over to her and lead her back to the papers where I walk her through the contract page by page. I want her to understand what she’s signing before she puts ink to paper.

  It’s straightforward, and says pretty much what I told her it does. There are a few little clauses here and there I have to parse out for her, but overall it’s simple.