Page 53 of When Glitter Meets Gold

“I’ll take care of him.”

“No need. I sent him home.” Magdalena drums midnight-blue nails on the bar. Her knuckles are taut, decorated with chunky silver rings on every stiff finger. She has a slight Brooklyn accent that tends to come out when she’s a little tired. J would have to get her a car soon; he’d already pushed it by making her stay out this long. “I’m writing an article on his firm, specifically how he’s driving it into the ground. He’ll be ruined by next week. Shame, nice family otherwise.”

J eyes her carefully. He’d dealt with her many times over the years, mostly to plead for her to not run a story or to change her mind about her wording.

He’d learned early in their professional relationship that she couldn’t be bribed or swayed. It made him like her more than all the other reporters. She’d never manipulated facts or lied to gain traction. Even though there had been times he’d been furious over the things he’d read about himself under her name, he can admit that she’d only ever written the truth.

“Alright Vandenberg, you paid me double for a reason,” she huffs out while taking a seat at the bar. “Why don’t you talk to me about this big announcement before I pop a couple Xanax and check out for the night.”

Ah. The announcement. The reason he remained at Midas instead of offering himself to a den of starved wolves like he’d been inclined to do after his outburst.

“Yes, that.” He deliberates for a few moments before continuing, “I’ve decided to make Midas not for profit.”

Magdalena inclines her pointed chin. “You know, I think I’ll take that drink.” She nods to the bartender. “So you’ve turned to philanthropy? Why in the hell would you do that?”

Yes, why indeed? He wonders if he should get into the gnarly details right here at the bar. How he’d only set up hislast restaurant to cover the bill for this one. And how he’d set up the bar before that to cover any extras the last restaurant didn’t manage to scoop up. How he now had three establishments that, give or take, didn’t make him a single dime.

Though all of that is very muchhow,and Magdalena had askedwhy. Thewhyis a much simpler answer that didn’t require producing several business plans and a quarterly forecast.

“Because I have a responsibility.”

Magdalena inspects him with dark, beady eyes, then downs her champagne before summoning the bartender to pour her something stronger.

“What’s the cause? Obviously something important for you to bleed out that much coin,” she asks casually, even though her twitching eyebrows suggest she’s extremely intrigued.

“A charity that helps those who struggle…to help themselves.”

“That’s usually the point of charity. Quit being cryptic, would you.” She draws out a case of cigarettes. He’s losing her, better get it out quick.

“It’s a foundation. Its mission is to provide education and guidance, financial aid too.”

“You know colleges are a thing, right?” She takes a short crystal glass from the bartender,

and gulps its tawny contents.

J dips his head, shuffles from one foot to the other. He’d gone over the details a thousand times. Why is this so hard to get out?

Because he’d never wanted anything to succeed so much in his life.

“It’s for…parents.” Bumbling. He’s bumbling like a fool pitching to a room full of suits who want nothing to do with him.

Despite this, Magdalena leans in. “Go on.”

“Single parents,” he says confidently as he finally finds his nerve. “Or ones who want to be but can’t because they’re trapped financially in a shitty marriage for example. Because they have kids to think about. We take care of that. Give them the help and therapy they need to live the life they deserve.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Magdalena taps a cigarette against the marble surface, her lips pursed together, the line between her eyes softer. “How long’s this been in the works?”

J can’t help but think what she really wants to ask iswhy this particular cause?He digs both hands in his pockets. “A long time, a really long time,” he admits.

Magdalena studies him, and for a moment he can’t tell what the look on her face represents. Was it apathy or approval? God, he wishes she’d just say something.

Finally, she draws in a shallow breath, “Alright, I guess you might be on to something. But you might want to refine that a little before you go up there, the jabbering back there almost gave me an aneurysm.” Magdalena grins as she tips her head toward the staircase where a podium is in the midst of final set up. “I guess we can talk about this later.” She nudges him with a veiny hand that loosely grips the unlit cigarette between two fingers. “Single parents, huh? There’s more to you than temporary insanity and fancy crockery.” She slides the crystal glass across the bar where the bartender catches it just in time before it crashes to the floor.

Indeed, there was more to him and the foundation, but explaining all that in detail meant allowing others to peek ata vulnerability, a corner of himself he’d kept hidden behind high walls.

Which is why the plan is to be brief and concise. Focusing on the bar itself. People loved to be told they were doing a good thing, so that’s what he’ll tell them. That just by walking through the bar’s doors, they’ll be doing just that.

“I can always assign a share of the profit to the preferred charity of my favorite journalist,” J offers deviously.

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