by Lisa Lace
I don’t want to admit that I couldn’t even afford this shared room. I have loans coming out my ears. I nod.
“Where are you from, Ethan?”
“Payson, Arizona.”
Vincent breaks out into a wide grin. “You’re kidding? Me, too! Small world, huh?”
“Funny we’ve never met before.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t spend much time there. I boarded in England. Eton. I only spent holidays in Arizona, and even then, not very much. We ski a lot.”
“Oh.”
I decide not to tell him that this is the first time I’ve left Arizona, or that I went to a public school.
Vincent casts his gaze around the room and then spots Lily’s picture on my bed. He crosses the room and picks it up. “Pretty. Your girlfriend?”
“Not anymore.”
“That sucks. Still, plenty of fish in the sea, right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What are you here to study?”
“Software engineering.”
He grins again. “I can see we’re going to be good friends, Ethan.” Vincent is not the usual type of guy I hang out with. He’s slick and polished. But he’s friendly. I’ve been a mess my whole life. Lily used to say I had a “rugged charm.”
When we chat further, I realize quickly that I could learn a lot from him.
“I think my family would have disowned me if I didn’t get into Columbia,” he tells me. “My father and his father came here.”
“I’m the first person in my family to get a college education. Thank God for scholarships and loans.”
Vincent looks surprised, but he pats me on the back warmly. “I know this place like the back of my hand. Don’t you worry—I’ve got your back. I’ll show you around and introduce you to the right people. You’ll get along just fine if you stick with me. Can I see your schedule?”
We compare our list of classes and find that we share most of them. Vincent starts giving me the low-down on each of the professors. No matter who’s on the roster, it’s someone that goes way back with the Oswald family. Vincent’s ancestry is practically part of the foundation of Columbia—and he’s offered to take me under his wing.
Mom is gone now, and I’ve left Lily behind. It doesn’t matter where Vincent comes from or how much money he has in the bank. I could use a friend.
Jennifer returns.
“I’ve spoken to Mason. He’s got nothing. Vincent’s playing his cards close to his chest right now.”
“He knew I’d look into him.”
Fixing me with an earnest stare, Jennifer stands in front of me with her hands on her hips. When she speaks, her voice is soft and pleading. “This is what I’ve been trying to say to you, Ethan. None of this is about business. It’s all mind games and revenge. Rise above it, or you might lose something that matters.”
Lily
Chloe is breezing ahead. She looks back. I smile through a painful stitch in my side, my lungs burning. I like the idea of jogging, but the reality is something else. I thought I’d get time to look around at the trees and birds, maybe people-watch a little, but I’m out of breath and sweaty. I haven’t noticed anything around me at all. To top it off, my phone is buzzing in my armband.
I come to a stop, leaning on my knees to catch my breath. “Chloe, wait up!”
She stops and jogs back to me. “Everything okay?”
“Can I take a breather?”
“Sure.”
I nod toward a nearby picnic bench, and Chloe follows me. We sit down, and I can finally check my phone.
When I look at the screen, I see a little love-heart symbol has appeared in the top left. For a second, I’m confused, then I remember, and giggle.
“I’ve got a match.”
Chloe grins. “On Destiny? You did it? Oh my God, let me see!”
She leans into me and looks over my shoulder as I open the app I already downloaded. You have a match.
There’s a name, Vincent Oswald, and a picture. The photograph is a familiar face. Not anybody I know personally, but somebody I recognize.
Chloe’s expression is as confused as mine. “That can’t be the Vincent Oswald?”
Vincent Oswald is a household name these days. He is a technology tycoon, another billionaire, and a constant feature in women’s magazines and talk shows discussing the most eligible celebrity bachelors.
I look at his picture. He’s a classic stud: tall, dark and handsome. He has dark eyes that are so piercing, they seem to leap off the screen. I feel like he’s staring right at me.
In his photo, he’s wearing an expensive black tailored suit, showing off broad shoulders and a taut physique. His hair is styled to perfection. He’s smiling, and his grin is full of charisma. He is enigmatic—even his picture makes me flush.
I laugh it off. “There’s a stock image photo if I ever saw one. What kind of egomaniac makes his dating profile picture a business shoot? It looks like he’s applying for a job, not looking for a girl.”
Chloe giggles with me, and takes the phone from my hand to squint at his image. “It can’t be him anyway. No offense, Lily—you’re amazing, but Vincent Oswald doesn’t need to use a dating app.”
I wave away her apology. “None taken. It’s obviously a hoax. So much for Ethan’s top-notch security.”
“What does his profile say?”
“‘A fun, successful businessman looking to find equal fulfillment in his personal life.’”
Chloe bursts out laughing, throwing her head back and shaking. “Are you serious? That sounds like an advertising tagline. That’s the most superficial opener I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“Probably because it’s been written by some bot.”
“I doubt it. More likely some sap who's trying to trick a girl into going on a date.”
“You’re saying, according to Steele Industries, my soulmate is a scammer?”
She’s giggling uncontrollably again. She rubs my back apologetically. “Oh, Lily—you do have bad luck in dating. Can you re-submit your profile and try again?”
“No, and I wouldn’t want to. God, how hard is it to find one decent guy out there?”
“Did they fill out the other fields? Go on, we have to read it. This is too hilarious—a con-artist’s best attempt to get into the mind of a billionaire.”
I grin. As much as I’m disappointed, there is something funny about imagining some desperate singleton trying to put themselves in the shoes of Vincent Oswald.
“‘Likes: sailing, fine art, and digital technology. Dislikes: dogs, heights, and romantic comedies.”
“Our scammer has certainly stretched himself with those guesses.”
“I can’t imagine that Vincent Oswald likes digital technology at all.”
“Loathes it.”
“Probably dries his tears with hundred-dollar bills.”
Chloe grins and looks over my shoulder to read through the list again. “You’re not a dog-lover either, though, are you?”
“Always been a cat person.”
“Vincent likes fine art—something else you have in common.”
“Except this isn’t Vincent Oswald,” I remind her, putting my phone away.
“It would be nice to dream though, wouldn’t it?” Chloe leans back on the table and looks up at the sky with a wistful gleam in her eye. “You know, Oswald is from Payson, too. We’re nothing more than a breeding ground for billionaires.”
“Except they don’t stay here to make their millions. They all sneak off to New York.”
Chloe smiles knowingly. “Sounds like you might be talking about a different billionaire there.”
“When I knew him, Ethan was as broke as I was. Whoever he is now, I don’t know him anymore.”
“Forget him. The billionaires are lining up for you now.”
I laugh and give her a playful shove. “It’s a hoax. The first message I get will probably tell me that his assets have been tied up by the banks, but if I can give him a hundred dollars t
o release the funds, he’ll transfer me a million dollars as a thank you.”
“And what would you do with a million dollars?”
“Travel.” I begin to list off destinations on my fingers. “New Zealand. Russia. India. Then Thailand, Vietnam. I want to see the Grand Canyon and Machu Picchu. I want to see it all.”
As I tell her about my dreams, sadness twists in my stomach. Once, I had shared those dreams with Ethan. After he left, I lost my courage to go alone. Over the years, there were times when I thought about dropping everything and taking off, but I soon realized that Ethan was right: you have to invest in dreams, and I had nothing to offer.
“Maybe Vincent will take you.”
I laugh, but it’s a hollow sound. “Maybe.”
“Wouldn’t it be amazing to never have to worry about money again? For everything to be laid out for you? A handsome man to pick up the tab. You could live without limits.”
I shrug. “Money’s not everything. It causes more problems than it solves, and there’s nothing fair about some people having it all when others have to count every dime. In my experience, money turns dreamers into cynics.”
“Money makes the world go around, Lily. We’d all like to spend a little more time with our heads in the clouds. I always wanted to go to a monastery somewhere, and learn to meditate from the experts. Practice yoga in the mountains. Who knows, without bills to pay, maybe I’d have found enlightenment.”
She’s smiling wryly. She’s joking, but only partially. Like me, Chloe is a free spirit. She would give it all up to chase the dream—if life would just give her the chance.
Ethan is talented, but he doesn’t see it.
I stand at the window in the floaty white dress he picked out, and try to maintain the pose, looking dreamily outward with a wistful smile, like he asked me to.
Ethan is glued to his canvas, intensely painting with oils. He’s been working on this portrait all year. Every time I think we’re nearly there, he shows up with a blank canvas to start again. He wants to get it exactly right.
I giggle and break from the scene. “You must be nearly finished, Ethan! This is, like, your hundredth portrait of me by this window.”
He peers around the edge of the canvas, biting down on his lip and grinning at the same time. He has a boyish charm about him, but the man in him is starting to emerge. His jaw is becoming squarer, stubble starting to grow. His shoulders have broadened. He’s growing up before my eyes. It’s almost time for the both of us to set out on those adventures we’ve been waiting for.
He flicks his paintbrush in my direction, and speckles of gray rain down on me. I laugh and try to wipe the marks away. “Ethan! You’ll spoil the dress. My sister will kill me if I get paint on it.”
“Hold still then.”
“Why this picture? Why this pose? I feel like I’m a damsel in the frickin’ Renaissance.”
“Because it’s you. When you’re standing there in the sunlight with your hair shining, and all that dreaminess in your expression, it’s exactly right. I will always remember you precisely like this.”
I feel my heart flutter. There’s a romanticism in Ethan that only comes out when he’s deep in a creative pursuit. Every now and then, that artist shows himself, and I get weak in the knees. “Doesn’t your mom think you’re working at the store tonight?”
“She’d kill me if she knew I quit.”
“Maybe it’s not too late to get it back again.”
“I don’t want it back. That job was killing me. I know money’s tight at home right now, but my mom needs to understand that this is who I am. I’m always going to be this way—taking life moment by moment, and not wasting a second of it in the rat race. The best things in life are free.”
“Ethan never used to care about money.”
“I know. You two were a pair of hippies when you were young.”
I smile. “Artists.”
“I guess Columbia changed him.”
“I didn’t even know he’d applied.” I shake my head sadly. “I’ll never understand why he didn’t tell me he’d got in. I’d have supported him. I guess his mother’s death hit him harder than I realized.”
“You think that’s what changed?”
I nod. “She didn’t have health insurance. She kept her sickness from Ethan for as long as she could, and by then, it was too late. He was devastated when he found out she was terminal. He felt like if he’d only worked harder, he could have saved her. Like a high school kid’s part-time store gig would have paid for the chemo. Still, he never forgave himself.”
“That’s tough.”
“It was hard for him. I have to keep telling myself that when I want to hate him for taking off. His life was difficult.”
“Have you ever thought about getting back in touch? I mean, it’s hardly like his location is a state secret. It would be easy to make contact.”
I make a face and shake my head. “He must have left for a reason, and there must be a reason he didn’t come back. I feel like our time has passed. Besides, I bet he doesn’t even remember me now. He’s got that Valencia model, his skyscraper, and his billions. Like I would mean anything to him now.”
Ethan
It’s hot in the boardroom, and my mind is elsewhere. I’m sweating in my starched collar, and I take off my jacket. Stuffed suits—brilliant men and women—surround me, but I’m not in the mood for stats.
“As you can see, Mr. Steele, we’ve far surpassed our goal of one million downloads already. Destiny has overtaken the three leading dating sites and apps. It’s the number one choice for online daters.”
I stare at the chart projected onto the screen showing the figures rising. We’ve already made millions.
I look around at my team and smile. I hold up my hands to concede defeat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to say you have proved me wrong. The app is a hit.”
Everyone smiles at one another. The team had a hard time convincing me to take up the project, but I always listen to the opinions of my experts—that’s what I pay them for.
“It’s not only Destiny sales, Mr. Steele.” One of my advisors is waving his hands excitedly. “We’ve seen increased purchases across a range of apps. This step into a more commercial, less niche area has increased our visibility among younger buyers. Everybody is downloading the free encryption program we’ve advertised, and purchases of the paid version are up by twelve percent. Phone security sales among that demographic are up. Destiny’s effects have rippled across all our products.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Our surveys show the public’s perception of you has changed, also, Mr. Steele. Before, you were described as ‘cold,’ ‘hostile,’ and ‘distant.’ Keywords from recent interviews are ‘innovative,’ ‘fun,’ and ‘attractive.’”
I wince at both sets of descriptions. I rarely like what the public has to say about me, good or bad. At the end of the day, the public only knows as much about me as the press delivers.
“Well done, everybody.” I smile and nod my head. “This has been a valiant effort with some remarkable results. Thank you all for your initiative and hard work.”
I make a mental note to tell Jennifer that corporate mugs won’t cut it for the staff Christmas gift this year. I also tell myself that some bonuses are overdue for the brave members of my team who had the balls to push the Destiny idea. I was resistant, to say the least.
I finish the meeting and head to my office. Jennifer is sitting at her desk right outside my door.
I rap my knuckles on the surface to get her attention. “Lunch?”
She smiles. “I never say no to a free meal.”
Jennifer finishes writing an email and then grabs her purse. We head to the little bistro where we always do lunch. From the front, it looks like nothing. Inside, it’s even worse. But in the summer, you can walk right through to the courtyard in the back, which is spectacular. There’s a waterfall feature built into the back wall and rose trellises all arou
nd. It’s a hidden gem of a place, where paparazzi never find us.
We order, and I give Jennifer a run-down of the board meeting. “Apparently Destiny is a raging success. Who’d have guessed?”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Ethan. This is how people do it now.”
“It’s taken me by surprise. I thought all that soulmate stuff sounded like complete bullshit. There’s no science for romantic chemistry.”
“Keep your voice down, or that’ll be the headline quote in some magazine tomorrow.”
“I’m saying they’ve proved me wrong. People obviously love it.”
“Thomas was showing me some feedback yesterday. Users are raving about how successful their matches are. We seem to be onto something.”
“What—helping people to get their heads out of their asses?”
Jennifer’s smile is exasperated but amused. “What do you mean, Ethan?”
“I mean, this online dating thing makes it too easy for people to set criteria. Love doesn’t work like that—it just happens. Besides, most of the time, what people think they want and what they actually want are polar opposites.”
“There, I can agree with you. It’s too easy to overthink when you’re looking for ‘the one.’ When I met Bill, I never would have put us together, but I took a chance. I’d always gone for a bad boy. Who’d have guessed that Bill, with his lame jokes and dad jeans, would be the one for me?”
“How long have you two been dating now?”
“Almost three years.”
“Jesus. Has it been that long?”
“Goes quickly, doesn’t it?”
Since leaving Arizona, time has become abstract. Each day passes in a blur, and yet the years seemed to have dragged by. Sometimes, Payson feels like a distant memory; other times, recollections come back with acute and sudden vividness. It seems like just yesterday I was a daydreaming drifter in Rumsey Park.
“You met Bill online, right?”
“I did.” Jennifer smiles at the memory. “I’ll be honest, I almost didn’t reply to his message.”
“Why not?”