I blink. “The deal with the state?”
“It’s a stepping stone.”
“You said before that others wouldn’t invest the time there…”
“Correct.”
“But you’re willing to risk losing the time.”
“Yes.”
“Because you… believe in the cause? Or believe in the profits?”
“Two things can be true.”
My head hurts. I brace my elbows against the table. I don’t even know why I care so much about this, why it seems so important. Some insane dream that I can get through to a billionaire, I guess.
“Jamie…” Morgan says, and there’s a softness in her voice.
I look up, and I don’t know why I’m so hopeful, but I am.
“You’re a very honest person,” she continues. “So, I’m going to be honest with you.”
I nod, can’t quite swallow.
“These things don’t make me feel guilty. They don’t really bother me. But I understand why they bother you. I am… not agoodperson. But I strive to be… less destructive than my peers. And the only way that’s possible is to surround myself with people who bust my balls about it. Who keep me from getting too… out of touch.”
“That’s… that’s unusual, isn’t it?”
Morgan shrugs. “My grand accomplishment is opening my fucking door and trusting the people I hired. Like I said, the bar is subterranean.”
“Youaredifferent from your peers, though,” I say emphatically.
“And why is that?”
“Your timeisactually valuable. Youdomake good decisions for the company. You… you don’t have the luxury of being vapid. People don’t make cults of personality around powerful women like they do around rich white guys. Theyscheme to tear them down at every turn. If you weren’t actually a genius… you’d have ended up like, I don’t know, that blood testing scam lady.”
“That’s only part true,” Morgan says quietly. “It’s not hard to make money when you’re already rich. You balk at the things I spend money on—I think you’d faint at what people give me for free.”
“That is… deeply ironic.” Like all the water bottles. Except water bottles are air to Morgan, and her version of water bottles is… I don’t know, I’ll have to consult Eileen for the analogy.
“It is,” she says with a wry smile. “Just like when I said before that I’m not afraid of anything. That’s also only part true. I’m not afraid as long as I’m in control. Money is power. Money is control. I don’t see myself relinquishing a cent of that while I’m alive. It’s just not how I’m wired. I need to be able to protect myself. Protect the people I care about.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re never going to change?” I ask with a teasing lilt, trying to bring some levity back into the conversation. But I appreciate Morgan’s honesty more than I can articulate.
“I’m saying you can try. But don’t get your hopes up. And be careful I don’t seduce you first.”
My stomach twists. I swallow hard. She means with the lifestyle, right? “I mean, they do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. If more women just became billionaires and took men out to Michelin-star restaurants, they wouldn’t be so single.” Wait, fuck, am Iflirting?
Morgan chuckles. “Ah, you figured out my secret.” A beat later, she asks, “Do you identify as a man?”
“Uh… kind of…” I glance towards the ocean, fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. “Sort of a… boy… demi-boy… kind of… situation…” Oh god, I’m rambling. Why am I giving the long answer? Why not just a ‘yeah’ and a shrug?
“Duly noted,” Morgan says, and that’s the end of that, like she just asked if I like chocolate or not.
Dessert arrives, and it’s fresh fruit tarts with blueberries, strawberries, and citrus slices arranged into little swans perched atop miniature tart shells of custard.
“It’s almost too cute to eat…” I murmur.
