Chapter 56

Carrying a tray with a burger, fries, and milkshake to the table, William was feeling good about his day. Greg Banner, Tonya, and Street King were already at the table. Other tables were filled with Street King's entourage; a motley crew comprised of members from the gang in which Street King had spent his youth. Rock had taken a separate table where he could watch everyone convinced that all were carrying guns. Nervous by the presence of the rowdy blacks, Tonya's assistant had joined Rock at his table.

After setting down his tray, William grabbed an extra chair and set it at the end of the booth. Greg asked, "What's with the extra chair?"

"My brother is coming," William answered getting a strange look from Rock.

Waiting for William to take his seat beside Street King, Tonya considered the two young men. The idea that he would become a Druid was almost as exciting as William's declaration that Greg was a true Bard. She had heard the magic in the music and knew the truth for herself; Greg was a true Bard. Somehow, hearing William make the declaration had set her Irish blood on fire.

Street King stared at Greg knowing that because of the young man the music industry was about to undergo a major revolution. He didn't believe the talk about the guy being a Bard, whatever that meant. An hour of listening to Greg had been enough to destroy the resonance that rap music had with the discontent of the young men and women who had been in the audience. The hard lyrics of street life in the projects that was the basis of rap wouldn't survive much longer. Shaking his head, he knew that he had a year, maybe a little more, in which to set aside the money that would have to last him for the rest of his life. Looking over at his entourage, he considered how much the half dozen leeches were costing him. Frowning, he wondered how he was going to get rid of them.

Looking over at William, he tried to understand the role that this young man held in this little drama. To say that the kid confused him would be an understatement. He'd never seen a young white boy who wasn't totally intimidated by his entourage. Of course, calling him a young white boy wasn't quite accurate. He could tell that the kid was part Indian and not the kind of Indian from India. Glancing over at Rock, he wondered why a kid had a body guard. His bodyguard sat down at the table with Rock.

Rubbing his hands in delight, William said, "I just love these hamburgers."

Gesturing at Rock, Street King asked, "Why do you have a bodyguard?"

"It's a long story. The short version is that my mother insisted that I get bodyguards for myself and my wife. Since then, there have been a couple of incidents where having a bodyguard has been useful so I kept them," William answered.

"What could you do that would require a bodyguard?" Street King asked. The kid didn't look or act that tough. He doubted that he would survive in the projects for even an hour.

"There is a rumor that I'm going to bring peace to the Middle East. Some people object to that," William answered with a negligent wave of his hand. He picked up a French Fry and dunked it in the paper cup of ketchup. Smiling, he took a bite out of it.

Greg Banner said, "You are the medicine man that lifted the curse from the Native Americans and spoke to the White Buffalo, aren't you?"

"Yes," William answered wondering how he came to be the center of conversation when all he wanted to do was eat. He reached down and started to unwrap his burger. It was a lot like unwrapping a birthday present. Looking up, he said, "Someone actually came up with the idea to wrap sandwiches in paper. I know that it was probably because people used to wrap meat in butcher paper, but it still makes you wonder how someone came up with that idea."

Face wrinkled in puzzlement, Street King said, "My burger comes in a cardboard box."

"Yes, rather disappointing isn't it?" William replied with a grin.

"I don't think you're quite right in the head, boy," Street King said with a shake of his head.

"How rich do you want to live?" William asked in a jarring change in the topic of conversation.

"What?"

"I asked you to tell me how rich you want to live."

"I don't understand your question," Street King answered.

"Do you want to live poor, middle class, upper class, or filthy rich?" William asked looking over at the rapper. The burger was poised inches from his mouth.

"Man, I'm living filthy rich," Street King replied. Gesturing with a French Fry, he said, "I got me fancy cars, a big house, and women lounging beside the pool."

"That's now. What about when your career ends? It will, you know," William replied. He gestured over at Greg with his burger and said, "His music is going to be the end of your music."

"I've got a couple million stashed away," Street King answered with a nervous laugh. It unnerved him that William had recognized the implications of Greg's music. Even if his career came to an end, he was going to be able to live rich for the rest of his life.

"That will give you a middle class life," William said with a nod of his head.

"What do you mean? I'm a millionaire," Street King said.

"Five percent interest on a million dollars is fifty thousand a year. Two million will give you a hundred thousand a year before taxes. Depending on where you live, that will leave you with between fifty and seventy thousand a year to live on. I imagine that the payments on your big house, fancy cars, and women lounging by the pool require more money than that. You won't be able to afford living like that. A couple of million means that you can live upper middle class," William said. He took a bite out of his hamburger and looked over at Street King to see his reaction.

Street King stared at William in shock. No one had ever laid out his economic position in such a succinct manner. He looked over at his entourage and knew they had to go. Looking down at his uneaten hamburger, he found that his appetite was gone. He asked, "So what would you do if you were me?"

William chewed his burger thoughtfully thinking about the man's position. He knew that the rapper's career was going to be coming to an end. After swallowing his burger, he took a sip of his milkshake. Finally, he answered, "Well, I'd decide how rich I wanted to live and put aside enough money to support that lifestyle in very conservative investments. By conservative, I mean bonds, mutual funds, and other things like that. I wouldn't invest in the projects of friends, land development schemes, or other risky endeavors. Once you have your basic needs met, then you can use whatever is left for the riskier stuff."

"So how much would I need to maintain my current lifestyle?" Street King asked.

"I assume it costs you about a million a year to live your current lifestyle," William said.

"Just about," Street King replied. He was bringing in a little over three million a year. After expenses and taxes, he was left with about a million a year to support his lifestyle. His fifteen million dollar house cost him a little over ten thousand a month including insurance and taxes. His six cars added another five thousand dollars a month. Furnishing his house was another seventy thousand a year. When he added in all of the electronic gadgets, it was another ten thousand a month. His party bill, including food, drinks, and strippers, was close to twenty thousand a month. Meals at restaurants ran about a thousand a day, particularly when paying for ten people with strong appetites for alcohol. His little trips with the entourage cost him another two hundred thousand a year.

"Thirty to forty million if you want to assure that you'll be able to live like that for the rest of your life," William said performing a rough calculation off the top of his head. It was enough to maintain that lifestyle without consuming the principle.

Stunned by the amount, Street King stared at William in disbelief. He was a millionaire and that meant he was supposed to be able to afford the lifestyle that he was living. Deciding that William didn't know what he was talking about, he said, "You're crazy."

"No. If there is anything that I understand, it is money. My doctorate is in economics. My investments now total well over what you require," William said.

"What the fuck are we doing eating burgers if you've got that much money?" Street King asked in a loud voice that carried across the room.

"I like hamburgers," William answered unperturbed by the outburst. Tonya giggled at his calm response. He looked over at the rapper and said, "You really ought to start doing some financial planning now. Your career is getting shorter by the day."

Picking up on the fact that he had a doctorate, Greg Banner examined William trying to estimate his age. There was no way that William could be over twenty. He asked, "How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen," William answered.

"And you have a doctorate in economics?"

"That's right."

Greg didn't care what Street King thought about William. The young man impressed him and he recognized good advice when he heard it. He said, "I'm impressed."

"Druids and Bards worked together in ancient Europe. I assume that modern Druids and Bards will work together now," William said. Bards often made sure that ancient kings who ignored the advice of Druids were the subjects of songs that pointed out their folly. Often the songs lasted longer than the kings who were the subject of the lyrics. There was no threat greater to a leader with a self-important sense of pride than going down in history as a fool.

"That is my understanding," Greg said nodding his head. If the Druids were the minds behind the throne, then the Bards were the public relations for the throne.

"I think that we'll be working together for many years to come," William said. Putting down his burger, he said, "I have a friend that you need to meet. Perhaps after you've visited the Druid College, you could come visit me."