For Money or Love

by Heather Blackmore

  “Inconsequential. What’s important is that it not happen again.” Lilith cut a small piece of steak and chewed.

  The easiest choice was to agree. After all, she and TJ were no longer dating. What would be the benefit of pushing back?

  But tonight wasn’t about easy. It was about standing up for what was right. All the years of remaining silent in the wake of Lilith’s demands had exacted a toll Jess was no longer willing to endure. It didn’t matter that she and TJ were no longer seeing each other. Family members were supposed to stick up for each other. TJ was right. Channeling TJ, she said, “The question shouldn’t be whether my kissing a woman reflects poorly on the firm. The question should be, does she make me happy?”

  It stung, saying the words aloud, and Jess fought back the tears threatening to spring forth. TJ did make her happy. Had made her happy. She wasn’t used to thinking of TJ and her in the past tense. Didn’t want to think of it.

  Lilith remained implacable, as if she were the dealer in a high-stakes poker game. “The people at this table are the stakeholders of the firm. We are five, not one. We must act for the collective, not the individual.”

  “Your discomfort with my relationship reflects on you, not the firm. It’s homophobia, plain and simple.” Never mind that there is no relationship, Jess didn’t add.

  Lilith took a sip of wine and dabbed her mouth with her napkin before scanning the faces of her son and stepdaughters. “All three of you have firsthand experience with my—I must say, underappreciated—interference with certain of your relationships, so it may be a tad hyperbolic for such labels.”

  Jess hated the disdain in Lilith’s tone, as if Jess’s relationship somehow didn’t qualify.

  Lilith continued, sounding as righteous as ever. “I will not apologize for holding each of you to high standards and keeping the firm’s reputation at the forefront of our collective minds.” To Jess she said, “If you’re in a relationship, as you call it, I suggest you end your relations.”

  Jess wanted to scream. Was there any point in continuing to argue? Lilith delivered the words they’d been called together to hear, and Jess didn’t expect anyone to come to her defense. She couldn’t blame Gary, who always did his mother’s bidding, or Brooke, who generally had Jess’s back but was put in a winless situation. Neither could step into the fray on Jess’s behalf and expect to gain anything but excoriation from it. She couldn’t even blame Lilith, who was acting exactly as she always had, though her homophobia was now in neon.

  Yet she could blame her father for his muteness. Why didn’t he stick up for her? Why did he allow Lilith to dictate family policy? Wasn’t his acquiescence as much a sign of homophobia as Lilith’s words?

  TJ was a combination of so many wonderful things. To be ruled out simply because of who she loved was an offense of the worst kind.

  Jess wanted to tell her family TJ was exactly the kind of person Derrick funded the graduate program for. Hard-working, dedicated, honest, family-oriented. Why did her lack of connections matter? Why did her bank-account balance matter? Why did her preference for loving women matter?

  If she said anything about TJ, it was possible Derrick or Gary would contact the school to have TJ transferred to intern elsewhere. She hadn’t considered that option before. Bringing up TJ’s character at this point wouldn’t solve anything, and a transfer this far into the internship would only hurt her.

  Yet ultimately this wasn’t simply an argument about TJ. This was about discrimination. If Jess had learned anything from TJ, it was that ethics mattered. If TJ were here, she wouldn’t back down.

  Neither would Jess.

  “You believe Magnate’s reputation so precarious as to be far more impacted by the private lives of the people who own it than by the investment returns it achieves for its clients?” Jess asked.

  Lilith set her utensils down and laser-focused on Jess. “I believe it to be unforgivably selfish for any of you to knowingly behave in a manner that might negatively affect our livelihood.”

  Okay, that did it. Lilith invoking “livelihood” as if their next meal depended on their tilling the soil was intolerable. The woman had been worth hundreds of millions before she married Derrick. Now she was worth billions. Was “livelihood” the proper term here? TJ would balk.

  “And I believe it unforgivably selfish of you to become involved with an industrious, considerate, intelligent person, yet forbid me from doing the same.” Jess rose and pushed in her chair. “Thank you all for the insightful conversation,” Jess turned to Lilith, “and the suggestion.” She followed her usual manners and kissed Derrick’s cheek before leaving. “Good night, Daddy. Love you.”

  *

  TJ rubbed her eyes before turning them to the alarm clock. Two nineteen. Once again she’d worked late into the night, having logged into Magnate’s servers remotely using a secure virtual private network. She couldn’t make sense of how the investments worked, and at this late stage of her internship, she needed help.

  The only person who could help was Jess. Jess could direct her to anyone within the firm she needed to talk to or, on TJ’s behalf, could ask questions as if coming at something from a marketing angle. And Jess could probably figure out the solution to the matter in half the time it took TJ, maybe less.

  She felt terribly lonely. Neither Kara nor Jess was speaking to her beyond the absolute minimum necessary to get through a day, though in truth, she wasn’t seeking time with Jess. She had no one to blame but herself. It had been her call to force Kara to stop working as well as to put things with Jess on hold. Although who was she kidding? Why would Jess, or anyone for that matter, wait for TJ for the next nearly two years until Kara went off to college? No, their relationship wasn’t on hold. It was over.

  It had been mere days since they—she—ended things, but time moved as slowly as if the hourglass were filled with quicksand.

  Dinners with Kara yielded as much conversation as pigs in mud, with TJ receiving the odd grunt in reply to a question or comment. Their only discussion not involving logistics was Tuesday morning, when Kara said, “You ended things, didn’t you?” She was scraping a spoon against the bottom of a plastic yogurt cup, intent on getting every possible dollop.

  TJ had been running late but was reluctant to stave off conversation, since they’d been as frequent as thunderstorms in Las Vegas. Still, she didn’t relish the topic. As she continued to pack her lunch, she said, “I need to focus on my work if I’m going to finish researching this case study and find time to write it.”

  “You didn’t seem to think that last week. Or the week before. Or the week before that.”

  The decibels on the cup scraping were ratcheting up, along with TJ’s temper. She yanked the container from Kara’s hands. “It’s empty, Kare.”

  Kara glared. At least she was making eye contact, TJ thought, irritated with herself for her impatience.

  “No. You are,” Kara said before placing her spoon in the dishwasher and returning to her room.

  Kara had been right. TJ felt as empty as a bag of Oreos left out during first-grade recess. Her own excuses felt hollow to her, though they’d seemed unimpeachable mere days ago. She didn’t want Kara or Jess to get her leftovers—those parts of her that were too exhausted to fully engage in a way both deserved. If she couldn’t give her best to Jess, she should care enough to let her go. And she did care.

  The alternative—taking away from Kara the last family member she had left—wasn’t a possibility. Kara wasn’t negotiable. TJ wasn’t foolish enough to believe she was the perfect substitute parent, but she was the only option, and she did her best. Her best didn’t include spending time away from Kara to selfishly follow her heart.

  Oh, how she wanted to follow it.

  Jess’s argument about TJ possibly being a better parent if she was happy had hit home. TJ couldn’t deny that her mother had been a wonderful, doting parent when her father was alive. It was only after his death that she became a shadow of who she’d been, l
osing her mind to her grief.

  Was it self-serving and wishful to buy into that way of thinking? Or did Jess have a valid point? TJ’s own experience suggested the latter, but she also realized her feelings made her susceptible to believing any contention that being with Jess was better. She wanted to believe it.

  How could she still be having this same argument with herself every moment her mind wasn’t occupied with the Magnate Fund? At what point did the brain decide to take pity and simply decide something was right or wrong, and let it go? TJ had already chosen. Why did her mind wantonly rehash her conversation with Jess as if she hadn’t?

  She shut down her computer and slipped under the covers. In moments, she’d be with Jess the only way she was able. In her dreams.

  Chapter Twenty

  By midweek, Jess was no longer thinking normally. Sleep had touched her fleetingly, and makeup wasn’t sufficient to mask the circles under her eyes. TJ avoided their daily check-ins as if Jess’s office had become quarantined. Indeed, the strain in their relationship had popped up as quickly and as welcome as an infectious disease. Jess missed TJ’s warmth and vitality. Although she wasn’t satisfied being relegated to the role of friend, she wasn’t willing to lose a friendship that had come to mean so much. Surely they could work through this incredibly painful time and come out the other side as something more than temporary colleagues.

  She approached TJ’s desk and found her working in a spreadsheet. “TJ, I’d like to see you in my office when you have a minute.”

  After TJ took a seat in Jess’s office, Jess realized the confidence she’d grown accustomed to TJ projecting was missing. TJ was reluctant to meet her gaze in the way an abused puppy was hesitant to approach its mercurial master.

  Jess cut to the chase. “You’re avoiding me. Why?”

  Immediately shifting uncomfortably in her chair, TJ said, “You have better things to do than educate me on aspects of the business that are outside your purview.”

  “Let’s agree you shouldn’t make decisions for me as to how best to spend my time.” Jess hadn’t wanted to take such a sharp tone, but she couldn’t easily disentangle the personal from the professional. She took a calming breath before proceeding more neutrally. “We’ve had daily briefings ever since you agreed to return to the internship. There’s no reason they should cease. Are you getting what you need from the client records?”

  TJ took her time in responding. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Already back to not being able to accept my help?” Again Jess failed to set the right tone. She swiped her hand through the air as if to strike the comment from the record. “I realize you’re used to depending on yourself for most things, and it’s an admirable quality in an employee. But good employees also need to ask for assistance when they’re spinning their wheels. Now, what can I do?”

  “I don’t understand how the Magnate Fund works,” TJ said, frustration evident in her voice. “As far as I can tell, all client funds are invested in it. We seem to offer great resources to our staff for trading, so there must be client assets invested in other vehicles, such as stocks, mutual funds, and bonds.”

  Jess considered this question for some time. “The Magnate Fund is a hedge fund. By nature, we’ll invest in a wide variety of financial instruments not limited to those you mentioned. Investors enjoy the additional diversification that comes from what we can offer, unlike more traditional vehicles. I imagine the trading resources are available simply to have everything easily accessible to our staff.”

  “It would be great to see what instruments the fund holds. It would also be helpful to be able to log in to the records of an individual client or two, because I don’t understand the ledger transactions. The only client records I could find showed cash deposits and redemptions, but nothing in between. I can’t see what investments a client owns at any particular time.”

  “I’m sure it’s easy enough to explain. It might just be a particular set of screens Gary doesn’t readily access. I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

  “No.” TJ said. “Well, there is one more thing. When I logged in, the system showed that Gary’s last login was over six months ago. As COO, wouldn’t he be constantly monitoring everything?”

  Jess smiled. “There’s your answer. He probably has both an admin and a user login, and I must have only given you the latter. I’ll flesh it out with him.” TJ returned her smile, which was bittersweet for Jess. It was tepid, as if TJ was purposely holding back the heat Jess knew she could unleash in a second. Jess wanted TJ’s sexy smile to return, but any smile was better than nothing.

  TJ stood. “Makes sense. Thanks for helping.” Before slipping out the door, TJ added, “And get some sleep.”

  *

  Instead of taking the direct path to the guesthouse, Jess strolled along the pool toward the gardens. The pool was always so inviting on calm nights like this, the underwater lights casting the pale-blue walls in a glowing serenity. She often went swimming here in the evenings, enjoying the solitude as well as the tranquility that came with unplugging from the world for a short while.

  Occasionally, her father would join her. Unlike Jess, Derrick no longer swam laps, but he enjoyed the outdoor hot tub. The sense of freedom that the expansive night sky offered proved far greater a temptation than tubbing indoors ever would.

  She missed him. Long gone were the days he carved out family time with “my girls,” reading them bedtime stories and, as they got older, insisting they read to him each night. Weekend mornings, Derrick had allowed the girls to burst into his bedroom and pile on top of him, and the three of them would tell stories in a round-robin, where one person would make up the beginning of a tale and then pass it to the next, who either went with it or took it in a completely different direction.

  These days, it seemed Derrick was always working, just as he had after Jess’s mom died. Back then, on the rare nights Jess and Brooke were still awake when he would come home, he’d kiss them on the cheek with as much emotion as one butters toast. The evening caregiver would take him dinner and his Gibson, and he’d ascend to the Moonlight Room, where he wasn’t to be disturbed. There he’d sit in the same chair night after night, appearing to Jess as if he was looking out over the expanse of ocean without really seeing anything.

  One night, as Jess watched from her hidden vantage point on the stairs, Derrick dropped his head into his hands, and his shoulders bobbed as he cried. Jess ran to him and hugged him, not caring about the punishment she was sure to receive from defying his commands. “I miss her too, Daddy,” Jess said, intuiting his thoughts. He slid to his knees and held her as he sobbed. She’d never seen him so distraught and simply held him until he could cry no more.

  “I can’t do this alone, pumpkin,” he said.

  “You’re not alone, Daddy. You have Brooke and me,” Jess said. “Don’t you love us anymore?”

  “Of course I do, sweetie. Why do you say that?” he said as he wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

  “Because you’re always at work, you’re mad all the time, and you never read us stories anymore.”

  “I haven’t been a very good daddy lately, have I, pumpkin?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” Derrick lifted Jess into his arms and held her. “Would you like me to read you a story tonight?”

  Jess nodded enthusiastically.

  “How much does Daddy love you?” It was his usual question, but she hadn’t heard it in months.

  “To the moon and back,” Jess exclaimed.

  He shifted her onto his shoulders and held her ankles. “Let’s go find us a good book.”

  From that night, though Derrick continued to put in long hours, he made it a point to check in on them at dinner, come home in time to read them a story at bedtime, and reserve weekend mornings so they could be together as a family.

  As Jess wandered past the pool, she recalled it was Derrick who had taught her how to swim. She would gladly give up
her things to spend more time with him. But she and Brooke had long been adults, and Derrick and Lilith had been married for many years. Perhaps it was simply the natural order of things that she’d see her father less and less.

  The gradual descent into the garden occurred by long, wide stairs requiring at least three steps per level before reaching the next stair down. Parts of the path were covered by trees, most of which were dimly lit by the lights along the walkway. Jess headed for her favorite statue in the garden: a bronze cheetah sitting in a slanting tree. The magnificent cat was leaning forward on its front paws, its rear legs seated near the top of the tree, its tail appearing to swing off the back of the fallen trunk. It stared straight ahead with stunning intensity, ears back and alert. It was a gorgeous work of art, and as Jess studied it, she wondered how often Derrick stopped to enjoy the incredible beast or any of the other pieces in the surrounding grounds. He took morning walks through the gardens, but how much did he notice? When was the last time someone had asked him to describe what he saw?

  Inevitably, as they did of late, her thoughts turned to TJ, the woman who’d reminded Jess to take more notice of the things around her. Jess missed their playfulness, their easy interaction, their flirtatiousness. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but TJ had gotten so far under her skin as to be muscle and bone. TJ had hurt her terribly, yet for some reason, Jess couldn’t remain angry with her. TJ had lost both parents in tragic ways, and Kara was her only remaining close family. Of course if TJ believed something was compromising Kara’s future, she’d shoulder the blame. She was fortifying her defenses by turning into herself the way a turtle might.

  But Jess wasn’t the problem. Jess firmly believed they could be stronger and more helpful to Kara and to each other by being together. Yet she didn’t know how to convince TJ.

  Jess continued along the path, appreciating the windless, balmy evening. It was the perfect night for a stroll with a lover. The thought was like a kick in the gut, because the only person she thought of that way was TJ. They hadn’t crossed that line, but Jess felt TJ was more her lover than any of her actual lovers had been. Tears stung her eyes. None of the grandeur surrounding her mattered if she couldn’t share it with someone she loved.