He felt nothing. Jayson had told him about the Noah clause but he could not sign something he had broken several times already.
The clause was clean without conditional language, just to the point. It said that in the event Piper Ashton were to enter into a domestic or romantic partnership with Mr. Noah Reyesof Seattle, WA, the annual payment of ten million dollars would be forfeited in its entirety, effective the first day of the month following such event, and that all prior payments would be characterized retroactively as compensation for services rendered rather than as gifts, for tax and other purposes.
Piper read the paragraph again to make sure he had it right. He calculated the tax bill in his head, north of $40 million, money he didn't have laying around.
Jayson was watching him. He hadn’t moved, not even to lift his glass of scotch to his mouth.
“This is a fucking threat,” Piper said.
“No. It’s the price,” Jayson replied as he sipped his 40 year old Macallan.
Piper closed the folder the way you close a menu when you have decided nothing looked good at the restaurant.
“You put it in writing.”
“I put it in writing,” Jayson replied.
“Why?”
Jayson deliberately paused, his fingers tightened on the glass of scotch.
Jayson lifted the glass and took a small sip.
“Because I do not negotiate things I have not written down.”
Piper waited for the rest of it, but there was no rest of it.
He knew he had no choice but to sign, but not yet.
The plane began to taxi.
Piper had expected Jayson to force him to sign, but the document sat on the table, and Jayson didn’t push it toward him or even give him a pen. There was no indication, with any word or gesture, that Piper was expected to do anything with it now. It was simply there.
To Jayson he was invincible and nothing needed to be signed to actually be enforced by him.
Piper watched the valley fall away beneath the window.
Over time, he had learned to read the architecture of Jayson’s silences. This one was not pressure. Jayson was watching him process, while Piper said nothing.
“You are quiet,” Jayson said.
“I’m thinking.”
“Yes. I can see it in your shoulders.”
Piper looked at him.
“It is a habit of yours. When you are deciding something, your shoulders tense up.”
“Why are you making me go to Atherton this late in the season when there is so much on the line?” Piper asked.
“Because there are people I would like you to meet. They are very excited to meet you, so at least act excited to meet them,” Jayson replied as Piper sank into his seat.
“I will try.”
Piper looked down at the folder on the table.
Ten million dollars a year. It had paid for the house in Beverly Hills, the house in Jackson Hole, his mother’s Ferrari and her second home.
