Get Rich. Get Even. Read online

  “I don’t understand your choice of courses, though. Economics, yes, but computers, no. I can’t see them being relevant or profitable in the future.”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m merely looking out for Barbara’s best interests. I don’t know what your intentions are, but I don’t want to see my little girl end up with a dreamer without a dime.”

  I stared at him. I wanted to say as little as possible. I didn’t want to correct him or argue. “I plan to study business after I get my undergraduate degree. Everything I’ve heard suggests that this is the future. The president wants us in space, and we need computers to do that. Slide rules aren’t enough. Everything is about large volume mathematical calculations. I want to excel in that, sir.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. He took another sip and put his drink down.

  “Maybe I’m not making myself clear, George. I don’t know much about computers or the future, but I trust Harvard and you’re going to be a Harvard man. I’m sure you’ll do well in the world.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was prepared to take any compliment he offered.

  “I need to know what your intentions are for Barbara.” He sat back.

  “I love your daughter, sir.”

  “That’s a good start, but it’s not enough. My daughter isn’t some play thing or distraction for you, or anyone else for that matter.”

  I began to understand what he was after.

  “Sir, I thought we should wait a bit before I asked you, but as you have raised the subject, I think it’s only right for me to ask you now.” I wasn’t prepared for this, but glad that it didn’t allow me time to be nervous.

  Mr. Lexington sat forward, eyes intently on me.

  “Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing to court your daughter and, if she accepts, to marry her.” As the words passed my lips, my body became numb. The room closed in on me and everything slowed down. My entire future depended on his reaction.

  He continued to look at me, stone faced. His eyes lowered and he turned his head as if he was listening to something. He stood up, buttoned his jacket, and extended his hand. “Good man, George. I would be proud to call you my son. You have my blessing.” He smiled.

  I tried to stand but needed a second try. My balance was off. I grasped his hand and we shook. We stood, both numb for different reasons, and smiled. I was relieved to feel my hand released. I was only then able to say anything. “Thank you, sir. It means everything to me.”

  I felt a slap on the back and he chuckled. He seemed genuinely happy, as though he was uncertain of how the conversation would go. “Let’s get back to the rest of them before they begin to wonder what we’re up to, hey?”

  He led the way and I followed closely behind.

  Barbie was scheduled to leave in three days’ time. It was some form of finishing school where she would learn, definitively, how to host in three languages. She referred to it as bridal school.

  “It’s to ensure I know how to be the perfect wife,” she said, “that I don’t embarrass my husband or family.”

  “I’m sure it’s more than that,” I said.

  She linked her arm in mine. I felt her body against me and it made me uncontrollably happy. We had kissed for the first time a couple of weeks before and she was no longer conscious of how her body rubbed against my arm. Sometimes, I think she did it on purpose.

  New York is a magnificent place when you are in love. We strolled the streets and ate hot dogs from street vendors. We window-shopped, went to movies, and spent every available moment together. I couldn’t remember a happier time in my life, and couldn’t imagine a place I would prefer to be than right there, with her.

  “Do you think you’ll remember me?” she said.

  “I will never stop thinking about you.”

  “Three months is a long time. A lot can happen.”

  “Not for me. I’ve got class and I’ve got you. I’ll be waiting.”

  “But there will be parties and other girls. You’ll forget me in no time.” She pouted to make a point.

  I stopped walking and held her close. “There are no other girls. You are my soul mate and future. You are the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing when I wake. I can’t stop thinking about you all day. If anything, I’ll flunk my courses and get thrown out of Harvard.”

  She kissed me. “I love you, George. Promise me you won’t change.”

  “I can’t change,” I said. “You have hard-wired me into loving you.”

  “Oh, you’re such a nerd,” she said and kissed me again. I didn’t mind.

  I enjoyed her soft body next to me. She was slim and athletic but she relaxed into me when we kissed. I couldn’t imagine a greater happiness.

  “Will you marry me?” The words slipped out before I realized what I had said. She pulled away and looked at me like I was crazy.

  “What did you say?”

  I knelt next to her and took her hand. “Barbara Lexington, I want to be your husband and your best friend. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to marry me but don’t answer me now. Meet me at the top of the Empire State Building in three months with your answer.” I bent my head and kissed her hand. Everything had become blurry and I didn’t want her to see me crying.

  She pulled on my hand to get me to stand. Tears were running silently down her reddened cheeks. She didn’t say anything. She moved closer to me and put her lips on mine. They were warm and wet from tears. I could feel the heat of her body through her sweater. She didn’t stop kissing me except to breathe.

  When we finally parted, I knew her answer. Her eyes and face glowed with excitement. She was due to leave tomorrow and the thought of it tightened my chest.

  “Is that what my father wanted to talk to you about?”

  I shrugged. “I’m marrying you, not him.”

  She held my hand tighter and we began to walk again. She stopped and turned to me.

  “Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Come with me to Switzerland.”

  “I can’t. My classes start tomorrow.”

  “Come on, just say ‘yes’. It’s romantic.” She was pleading with me like a little girl. Somehow, it made her even more irresistible.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “Just for a week. Or a weekend.” She was making puppy-dog eyes at me. My body was exploding with desire for her.

  “I can’t afford it.”

  “Sure you can. You can miss a few classes. You’re brilliant. You’ll make up the work.”

  “No, I mean I can’t afford to fly to Switzerland. I don’t have that kind of money.”

  She stopped playing with me and moved her head like she was emptying water out of her ears.

  “What? How? You’re going to Harvard. Just ask your parents for some extra money.”

  “My parents don’t have any extra. I’m going to Harvard on a full scholarship.”

  “Oh.”

  “But we’ll see each other in three months. We can begin the rest of our lives then.”

  “Yes.”

  I grabbed her hand and began walking back to her parent’s townhouse. I wanted to cherish these last few moments with her before I drove back to Cambridge that night. It would be the last opportunity for me to be with her before we met on top of the Empire State Building.

  ∞

  “Sorry, sir, but we’re closing in half an hour. I don’t think she’s coming.”

  “Thank you. Let me know when the last elevator goes down. I want to wait.”

  “Suit yourself, sir.”

  The city had become dark hours earlier. There was no snow yet and the lights twinkled like a magical story below me. My stomach had been complaining for hours and my joints hurt from standing, sitting, and milling about without purpose. I took one final look through each window and made my way to the elevator.

  Just as I approached, the doors opened and I could see the familiar shoe, leg, and dress. My heart stopped and an explosion of hope spread from my chest to my fingertips. I stood straighter and waited for the elevator to empty. As they filed past, the familiar turned into the foreign as the woman’s face came into view. It wasn’t her. I panted briefly as my body reversed its engines and I tried to recover my composure.

  “Down?”

  I nodded. There was no up except for a special VIP level on the hundred-and-third, but that was via steep stairs and wasn’t for me. I felt my stomach as the mechanical box lowered me to the eighty-sixth floor. I got out and went to the next elevator that took me down the rest of the way. There was a further escalator to navigate past before I reached the street. Worse, there were the smiling porters, guards, and tourists all around me. I wanted to disappear.

  The cold air hit my chest as I stepped onto Fifth Avenue. I didn’t close my jacket, preferring to feel something other than the numbness of betrayal and loss. I wanted to go to Barbie’s parents’ house and see if she was back. I looked at my watch. Almost two in the morning. Too late. I decided to walk. I would need to leave for Cambridge in the morning. That left me the rest of the day to get my head around what had happened.

  It was noon before I finally emerged from my hotel room. I had booked it in vain optimism that Barbie and I would have stayed there together. Part of me began to think that I jinxed it. I had no right to think like that. Then, I reasoned, if we were going to be married, why not? I shook the hope from my head, dismissing it as fantasy. I thought about what could have caused her to miss our date—especially as it had been three months. We had decided to be romantic, like Cary Grant, and didn’t write. It was to be our heart’s decision. There would be nothing to stop us meeting up.

  But there was.

  I took a taxi to their townhouse and climbed the front steps. I heard the doorbell and took a step back. One of the maids answered. I announced who I was and she told me to wait outside. I did.

  “Hello, George.” Mrs. Lexington looked radiant. It reminded me how beautiful Barbie would continue to be as she aged.

  “Hello, Mrs. Lexington. I’m sorry to arrive unannounced, but is Barbie home?”

  “Please, come inside.” She held the door open and I walked into their spacious foyer. Even the house seemed different arriving without Barbie. It seemed like a museum, populated with fine antiques. “Can I get you some tea?”

  “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  She instructed the maid and we sat down in the lounge. I could see from her face that she was concerned about me.

  “How are your studies going?”

  “Fine.”

  “Your parents? Family?”

  “Everyone is fine, thank you. And Mr. Lexington? Frederick?”

  “They are all well, thank you. I would have thought you’d have run into Freddie at Harvard.”

  “We run in different circles. He’s studying humanities and I’m in economics and computer science. Different parts of the campus.”

  The tea arrived and was poured. I took mine, as did Barbie’s mother, no sugar with a little milk.

  “Is Barbie in town?” I couldn’t hold off asking any longer. I took a sip and put the teacup back on its saucer.

  “She is,” she said slowly.

  “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “I think you need to talk to her,” she said. “When is the last time you spoke?”

  I was beginning to feel embarrassed. “Three months ago. Shortly after our dinner here.”

  She nodded, eyes closed. “We both really enjoyed that day. My husband particularly enjoyed his time with you and the discussion you had with him.” She paused long enough for me to understand that she knew exactly what was going on. “You haven’t heard anything from Barbie since then?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Not even exchanging letters, updating you on how things were going?”

  I felt foolish. “No.”

  She adjusted herself in her seat and took another sip of tea. “Barbie met someone, George. I hate to be the one to tell you this. You are such a nice young man.”

  The words began to sink into me like a hail of bullets into a soldier. I knew they were being spoken and I felt them against me, yet they tore through me nonetheless.

  “Who? When?” I managed. I didn’t dare try to take a sip of tea. My fingers had gone numb.

  “A European. English aristocrat. At least that’s what she says. He seems nice enough. Oxford schooling, family title, and he asked her to marry him.”

  “I… I’m pleased that she’s happy.” I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. “I don’t wish to sound rude, Mrs. Lexington, but I can’t stay. I was in New York and needed to come by. I’m very sorry.”

  She looked at me with an understanding I didn’t expect.

  “Of course, George. You are always welcome here. I’ll tell her that you came.” She got up and my visit was over. I thanked her once more and left.

  I didn’t flag a taxi. I walked back to the hotel where I had parked my car. I wanted to yell, then cry, then smash something. I wanted to know why. I wanted to see her and feel her kiss and body against me. I wanted her to smile at me with her mouth and eyes. I wanted to smell her perfume and watch her walk. I wanted to talk to her and walk hand-in-hand forever.

  I wanted, but she didn’t. I thought back to our final moments. That perfect time of happiness where my whole world opened before me. What did I say or do that changed all of that in her?

  I remembered her warm kisses and tears. I could still feel the fabric of her clothes and the way it lay against her body. I wracked my memory for what could have caused this reaction. I froze as it dawned upon me.

  I was poor, or at least not rich enough. I had no substance behind me. I was a risk neither she nor her father would take.

  The keys to my future lay in the same word that she found repulsive: scholarship. I was potential; she saw it and believed in me. But she wasn’t going to risk her future with a man who could extinguish hers by merely getting hit by a bus while crossing the road. There were plenty of men who were worth more to her dead than alive—provided she was married to them. She wanted—no, needed—a rich man.

  I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I entered the hotel. I caught a glimpse of myself in the polished brass of the elevator. As the door clicked shut in my hotel room, I glared at the man in the glass opposite me.

  “You will become rich, George. So rich that girls like Barbie will become cheap distractions. Rich enough to do what you want, when you want, and with whom you want.”

  I saw myself with burning coals for eyes, their sockets blackened and tense. One corner of my mouth lifted, then the other. Soon, teeth were showing.

  I would rebirth myself.

  Chapter Two

  Laos

  “Why Vietnam?” her eyes were puffy from crying and her head was pressed into my chest.

  “Because someone has to fight those Commies.”

  “Why you? You graduated summa cum laude from Harvard. If you need to serve, the army will give you some cushy position. You don’t need to get shot a million miles away in a war no one even cares about.”

  I looked at Dana. She was a couple of years younger than I was and had her head in the clouds as she studied Milton and Chaucer. I enjoyed spending time with her, especially as she was prepared to move in with me after only three months. She cared for me, but she was no Barbie.

  “With my MBA, I’ll probably start with a rank of major,” I said. “Besides, this conflict will be over soon. I’d never even heard about Vietnam before this.”

  “Just because Kennedy gets shot, you think you need to sign up? George, this is crazy. One has nothing to do with the other.”

  “Our president stood up to bullies around the world. He knew that we are judged by our actions, not words.”

  “And me? Don’t you care about me?” She had pushed me onto the sofa and was lying on top of me. She lowered her voice and looked at me through the tops of her eyes. “Won’t you miss me?”

  “I will.” I put my hand gently next to her face and she pressed against it. “But I want to be rich. If I don’t do this, I’ll be branded a coward. Cowards don’t get rich.”

  “Neither do dead men.” She pushed herself against me and sat up. It hurt my legs.

  “‘Maybe’ isn’t an option,” I said. “We must decide. Say yes and die, or become a hero. Say no and you never live—merely exist.”

  “You’re such a jerk sometimes,” she said. She got up and went to the kitchen. I knew that she was getting herself a drink.

  “Get me one too, will you?”

  “Okay. You’re still a jerk though. Beer okay?”

  She came back wearing nothing and carrying two beers. The conversation was over.

  ∞

  I enlisted the next day. They told me I would start with the rank of major. It was only when I went to be interviewed that they suggested I join a specialized outfit. They instructed me to take a lie detector test, confirm my credentials at Harvard, and then told me to sit. I was to talk to a Colonel Starkey.

  “Mr. George Anderson?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. I stood when he entered. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. I looked at the other applicants and saw some suppressed smiles.

  “I am not Colonel Starkey, Mr. Anderson. I am here to say that he will see you now. Please, follow me.”

  I didn’t say anything and tried not to feel the burning sensation on my back as the eyes of the three other hopefuls scrutinized my every movement. I wondered if they were even applicants at all. They may have been watching me all along. I didn’t want to be paranoid, but this was the CIA.

  “Mr. Anderson. Please have a seat.”

  The room smelled of cigars, although none were lit and the ashtrays were empty. Colonel Starkey sat with his back to the window, which meant that I needed to look directly at the sun when I talked to him. It gave him a corona that surrounded his figure and made it difficult to distinguish his features.