Page 55 of Dead Serious with Benefits
“More or less.”
“Hmm, I should look into what it would take to buy or create a similar service.”
Arlo didn’t move for a moment before turning to look at me curiously. “Genuinely?”
“Why not?” I asked, puzzled. “A saturated market can be a brick wall to anyone entering it, sure. But if you provide a better service for the customer, a better environment for the employees, and have enough money and confidence, you can bull your way through. A successful newcomer in a saturated market can shatter the monopoly.”
He tilted his head. “I wasn’t aware that you were?—”
“That rich or that willing to do business?”
“Oh, I’ve seen enough to understand that in terms of rich, you’re filthier than those martinis you enjoy. I just didn’t realize you were interested in businesses.”
“I believe that if I hadn’t hadsomefinancial independence from my mother and the grip she has on the family money, I would have been cut off a long time ago. As it is, I have a diverse portfolio. My mother could completely cut me off, ostracize me, cut me from the will, all of that, and I’d still be able to live quite comfortably. Not exactly as I do now, mostly because it’s fun to live lavishly on the family payroll and irritate my mother, but also because it would be prudent to live more conservatively,” I said with a shrug.
“I can only imagine how much independence you have built,” he said. “From what you’ve told me, I’m surprised your mother hasn’t moved from respecting your financial independence to forcing you to rely on it.”
I peered up at his house. It was dark, but there was enough light from the street and the covered porch to make it out. Itdidn’t make a statement; gray paneling and a dark roof didn’t exactly stand out. A small flowerbed on each side of the stairs held a few flowers, mostly flowering bushes against the porch. There was a small table and two metal chairs as well. It didn’t stand out, but it did strike me as...cozy.
“I’ve wondered that a few times,” I admitted as I watched moths flutter about the porch light. “Truth is, I have held back quite a bit of information.”
“Your mother doesn’t strike me as the sort not to dig thoroughly if she’s determined.”
“Which is why my entire portfolio is broken down into three parts. The first are the most obvious sources of income, which are easy to find with a simple online search. The second are the things I’ve put effort into concealing, enough to keep them from prying eyes, but not so much that they can’t be found. The third are deeply buried. I’ve worked as quietly and as diligently as possible to make sure they could not be traced back to me without a massive amount of digging or breaking laws.”
“Ah, I see,” he said with a low hum of understanding, but I wondered if there was a note of approval as well. “The second are there to give your mother enough that she doesn’t think to try for the last group.”
“More or less, she only has a partial picture of the money I have coming in,” I said with a grin. “It’s hard to say if she would be irritated or proud if she got the whole picture. Probably both,” I explained with a rueful chuckle. “She seems stuck between hating what I am and what I do, yet something holds her back. I suppose I am no different when it comes to her.”
“She’s your mother,” he said.
“That is the oldest excuse to get away with being terrible to family,” I scoffed.
“It’s not an excuse, not from me anyway,” he said with a little smile. “It’s an explanation. Relationships between child andparent can be messy, painful, and exceedingly complicated. It can be challenging for parents and children to understand what they think and feel regarding one another. If I were to guess, and it is only a guess...I’d say that you love and hate each other in equal measure. Too much alike and too different, unable to reconcile the differences or leave each other in the past. So yes, it’s because she’s your mother, and you’re her son.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that, other than give him a rather witty and cutting grunt. I didn’t know what emotion I was trying to convey. It wasn’t like I could say confidently that I hated my mother, but neither could I say I had any love for her. If I devoted any time to trying to read my emotions when it came to her, I was left with a swirling mess that made no sense. There was just the general, all-encompassing feeling of dislike, distrust, and...other things I could never understand. All I knew was that it was unpleasant, unwelcome, and I didn’t like to think about it too hard.
It was a subject that smarted every time someone hinted at it, and after so many years of having a politician as a parent, I wasverygood at reading between the lines and picking up on hints. I didn’t know what smarted most, the reminder or the fact that people believed I was unaware of our similarities. As if I hadn’t spent almost three decades knowing what my mother was like, witnessing her behavior, and seeing myself in her at every turn.
I tensed, relaxing slightly when I realized it was Arlo sliding his hand into mine and squeezing it. “I apologize; I hit a nerve and wasn’t trying to. I was trying to show you I understand, and that I’m not judging.”
I laughed, reminding myself he was not like many others I’d dealt with. He wasn’t trying to push me to have a better relationship with my mother, he wasn’t chiding me for being a bad son, and he wasn’t trying to point out how similar the two of us were to make some point. It was just...Arlo, confirming inhis own way, there was someone who understood the life I lived. Maybe it wasn’t close to the one he lived, but that perception, quiet empathy, and probably a good imagination allowed him to seesomethingat least.
“Sorry,” I said softly, squeezing his hand back and forcing myself to relax. “I don’t deal well with the subject of my mother, and even worse when it comes to the reminder that the two of us are...not dissimilar.”
“Maybe it’s some personality traits.”
“Several.”
“But there’s a marked difference in your attitudes, beliefs, and morals.”
“Mmm, don’t be so sure.”
“You haven’t been particularly...ruthless as far as I’ve seen.”
“That’s because you don’t know me. Ask the other tenants in my building how ruthless I can be.”
“Should I ask?”
