Chapter 6

“Twenty-five thousand!” Mia said in the elevator.

I shooshed her. “Not in the elevator. Wait until we’re outside.”

She could barely contain her excitement and looked ready to boil over like an unattended pot of water. She followed close on my heels through the lobby and squealed the moment we passed through the revolving doors, crouching and pumping her arms.

“Twenty-five thousand! Twenty-five thousand dollars! Holy shit!”

“Would you please calm down?”

“He’s going to give me twenty-five thousand dollars!” she shouted.

“I know. I was there.”

“What...? How...? I can’t even...”

She couldn’t form a coherent sentence, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Congratulations. You know how long it took me to raise my first twenty-five grand? A hell of a lot longer than that.”

“That was unbelievable! That one-liner totally worked! I mean, just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “You weren’t kidding. It really isn’t about the idea, is it?”

I checked my phone. Alexis’ recital had already started. Damn it. By the time I got there, it would already be over. I put my phone away.

“It never is. Good luck with your business, Mia. I hope you’re successful.”

I turned to get my bearings. Maybe I could meet up with Astrid for dinner, and spend the night at her apartment. My apartment.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Mia asked.

“Somewhere else.”

“But we have to celebrate!”

I turned and tried not to laugh in her face. “I don’t want to spoil the moment for you, kid, but twenty-five k is hardly worth celebrating over.”

Mia stared at me like I was nuts. “Are you kidding? That’s more money than I make in a year.”

My eyebrows crowded together in an expression of disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Holy shit. I made that much in two weeks, and it still wasn’t enough. How the hell was she able to live? I checked my watch again. Maybe a quick drink.

“Fine.” Mia grinned. “There’s a great little cocktail lounge a couple blocks from here.”

Her smile faded. “I’m underage. Besides, I don’t drink.”

Shit. “You definitely don’t need any more coffee.”

“Let me buy you dinner,” she offered.

I frowned. “Thanks, but why don’t you let me buy you dinner?”

“Oh, hell yeah! I mean, yeah. That would be awesome. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” I gave her a once over.

“What?”

“Are you sure you want to go out looking like that?”

She looked down and then away. The question had made her feel self-conscious, and I felt like an asshole for asking it.

“I could go home and change,” she said quietly.

“No. I was just messing with you. You’re fine. What kind of food do you like?”

“I don’t know. McDonald’s is fine with me,” she said, and I almost gagged.

“No. Hell, no. We are not celebrating your first twenty-five thousand dollar investment at a fucking Mickey D’s! Are you crazy? We’re going to sit down, a fucking waiter is going to serve us, and we’re going to toast your future domination of the indentured servitude market with something expensive and bubbly. I insist.”

Mia smiled. “You’re the boss.”

“Where’d you park?”

She pointed over my shoulder. “A couple blocks over that way.”

“Perfect. You drive.”

Perry’s Steakhouse. Old school fine dining at its best. A faded beige awning out front, and a giant, naked steak the size of a toilet seat, resting on a white plate. No side dishes. You could order sides if you wanted, of course, but why would you?

The place hadn’t been redecorated since nineteen fifty-seven, and that’s exactly the way the local business community preferred it. Dim lighting and no frills. Just giant slabs of dry-aged prime beef. I’d had dozens of business lunches and dinners there, and they never failed to satisfy.

Mia savored a bite of her butter-crusted ribeye and moaned so loudly, I thought she might cum.

“Oh my god! That is so good!” she gushed.

I’d ordered the same, and I couldn’t disagree with her assessment. “Glad you like it.”

Our waitress, a Slavic looking young woman in her mid-twenties, brought us a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She filled them both before leaving us with the bottle resting in a bucket of ice. Old school style. I lifted my glass.

“To Slavery, Inc.”

Mia lifted her glass. “To toppling inequality.”

“Cheers.” I took a sip. Definitely not their best, but decently dry, and more than good enough for a person who didn’t drink. The face Mia made when she sipped hers validated my choice.

“You ever have champagne before?” I asked.

“I had Martinelli’s at Christmas a few times,” she said with a completely straight face, then looked up from her plate when I snorted into my glass.

“I find Martinelli’s to be a little too... doux for my taste,” I finally managed to say.

Mia shrugged and took another sip, then dug into her steak like her life depended on it. Despite my insistence that the steak would be plenty, she’d ordered a loaded baked potato, green beans, and stacked three dinner rolls onto her plate. The girl had a healthy appetite.

“So, tell me about yourself,” I said between bites.

She looked up with a mouthful of food and smiled sheepishly. “What do you want to know?” she asked when she’d finally swallowed.

“I don’t know. You married? Kids?”

She gave me an exasperated look and shook her head.

“Boyfriend?”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

“Would that be Kev?”

Mia paused with a forkful of steak poised near her open mouth. “How do you know that?”

“I saw the caller ID on your phone last night.”

She regarded me for a moment, then put the bite into her mouth and slowly chewed. I got the sense that she would prefer it if I changed the subject.

“Any siblings?” I asked.

“Two brothers. They’re both in the military.”

“Hoorah.”

“Army. Not Marines.”

“Alright. Hooah, then.”

Mia smiled. “Better.”

“Parents?”

“Two of them.”

“You live at home?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“I meant, do you live with them?”

Mia’s smile faded. “Hell no,” she said quietly, letting me know not to travel down that road either.

“Okay. So you’re Mia Bennett, the Lyft driver with two brothers, a boyfriend, and an undependable business partner, who wants to start a non-profit that turns poor people into investments for rich people. Does that about sum it up?”

Mia stared at me and slowly lowered her fork to her plate. I noticed that she’d eaten exactly half of everything. Half the steak, half the potato, half the green beans, and one and a half rolls.

“And you’re Ryan Whittaker. The capitalist with a wife, a daughter, a very rude girlfriend, and two undependable bosses, who wants to go behind their backs and sell their company out from underneath them. Does that about sum it up?”

I took a sip of champagne and observed her over the rim of the glass. Mia pushed her plate away.

“Full?” I asked.

“No, but I’m going to take the rest back home to share.”

I considered telling her to just finish it and pick up some drive through on the way home, but held my tongue. It was none of my business.

“They’re not my bosses, and it’s not their company. It’s my company. I founded it.”

“Okay. Sorry. My mistake.”

I refilled our glasses, but Mia didn’t touch her champagne. She drank water instead.

“What are entity formation documents?” she asked after a brief moment of silence.

“You need to actually create your company before Evan can invest in it. He’s not going to write you a personal check.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just go online and search for ‘entity formation services’ and pick one of the top choices. You can do the whole thing online. It should only cost you a couple hundred bucks.”

“A couple hundred?” she asked, dismayed. “Oh man, why is it so expensive?”

“Expensive?” I laughed. “That’s practically free! You can spend tens of thousands or more if you hired a law firm to do it for you.”

“It might as well be thousands. I can’t afford that.”

“Jesus. Fine. I’ll set it up for you, okay? Consider it a donation. My little contribution to your crusade.”

Mia stared at me across the table. “Why are you helping me?”

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

I checked the time. Alexis’ recital had already ended. She and Wendy were probably headed home by now. Once I had this Lexical sale behind me, I could focus on my family. I’d make more time for Alexis, I promised myself. For both of them.

“No,” Mia said, sounding contrite. “I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry.”