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“Like on the phone?”
“No. You’re typing to each other, not talking,” Ben explained. “But the thing about it is that you can talk to anyone, from anywhere. You can be here in New Jersey and they can be in Bangladesh.”
“Weird. Why would I want to talk to a stranger?”
“Well, say there’s something going on in the news or entertainment. Something interesting. People could talk about it together.”
“You mean type about it?” I snorted. “I type with two fingers.”
“I know it sounds weird.” Ben flushed. “But it’s coming. And I have a friend—well, it’s a business associate, really. He’s come up with an idea that’s going to connect people like that. So we can all talk to each other.”
“Well you have to have a computer first,” I reminded him. The last time I’d seen a computer, outside of the library, was as a freshman in high school. They offered Computers 101 and we wrote code in something called Basic. All I remembered was I got a C in it and had written a program that asked your name, your age, your gender and your favorite candy bar.
“It’s new,” Ben agreed. “But we’re going to double, maybe even triple, our investment money.”
“Our investment money?” I glanced at the folder again. “But I don’t have any…”
Dale was right. Dale was right all along.
“I know you said you were worried about Dale and the money he’s spending,” Ben said. “Look, Sara, I want you to have a comfortable future. I don’t want you to have to struggle and paint designs on t-shirts for the rest of your life.”
That wasn’t exactly accurate, but I decided not to quibble about what I did at the print shop.
“The music business is tough. I mean, when I was a kid, there were tons of bands and music artists making records. But only a handful of them are still around. What happens to them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Most of them go broke.” He leaned back in his chair, briefcase balanced in his lap. “Because they spent all their money on booze and dope. They started rolling in the money and thought the money fountain would go on forever. But eventually the money fountain stops.”
“So you… what? Want money?” I could barely get that last word out.
“It’s an investment,” Ben explained. “You’d get your money back. Plus more.”
“Well it’s not my money. You know that.” I picked up the folder but I didn’t open it. “I can ask Dale about it.”
I had no intention of doing any such thing. But I didn’t tell him that.
“Listen, I have to get to the shop,” I said, standing and slinging my purse over my shoulder. “I have some drawings to drop off.”
“Okay sure.” Ben stood too. “Listen, I can come by and talk to Dale about it. Explain it better. You can even come with me to work and see how the prototype works. He’s got a brilliant marketing plan. It will be a household name inside a year, a guarantee it.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. This man, who claimed to be my father—now I was doubting everything he’d told me—didn’t find me because he wanted to meet his daughter. He saw “rock star” and thought “investment money.”
Dale was right.
Fuck.
Ben didn’t say anything as I started to walk away.
I turned back and asked, “What’s this thing called?”
“He wants to call it Americans Online,” Ben replied. “I think we should think more globally, but I’m not the guy in charge.”
“Stupid name.” I made a face. “See you later.”
I managed to make it all the way to work. I even got the drawings from my case in the back seat and turned them in to Dave without too much trouble. It was in the print shop parking lot it hit me like a two-by-four in the gut. I didn’t make it back to my car. I sobbed and sobbed, collapsed against the side of the building, hugging my knees.
o;The minute Aimee told the family she was pregnant, my mom started watching what she eats like a hawk. She’s such a fatphobe.”
