Page 27 of Return Billionaire to Sender

“Should I schedule our sixty-minute block with you?” I ask. “Or directly with him?”

He looks at me strangely. Was that a weird question? Am I giving myself away? He picks up his phone and texts. Is he texting Malcolm?

9

Malcolm

I feel distracted.Off my game.

I tell myself it’s the upcoming negotiation with the Germantown Group, a large logistics firm with a massive network of distribution centers, trucking lines, and logistics software. We need to take over their network to make another acquisition pay off.

I’m looking at background docs, but I’m thinking about Stella. Will she still do her letter carrier schtick now that she’s back in a pantsuit?

And really, why a letter carrier? Was that her own twist? Something so corny? Is it something this Bexley Partners trained her to do, or is it yet more of Corman’s fuckery?

Will we watch more of the insufferable amateur documentary? Not that it matters. At all. Really, I shouldn’t be devoting any more time to it than what my lawyers signed away, but I’m feeling agitated because I like to know.

We’re airborne. Out the window opposite us, you can see all of Manhattan, looking like a thicket of trees rising from the shining Atlantic. The wheels retract below us with two heavy clunks.

I pull out my phone and find myself looking up Bexley Partners. I locate the coaching firm’sAbout Uspage. I like to know who’s on my plane. And I’m going to need to find a way to buy her, because I’m not spending twenty hours being coached by some random country mouse; I don’t care how hot she is.

I have things to do.

I’m disappointed to find only the barest of details underneath her photo. Stella grew up in rural Pennsylvania. Her bio notes that she’s passionate about helping executives achieve a synergy of excellence and reach their full potential as leaders and humans.

Synergy of excellence? What kind of rubbish is that?

From her background, it looks like she grew up in a small town. She spent time as a letter carrier before taking her degree in psychology and moving to New Jersey. So that’s where the letter carrier schtick came from.

Not that it matters. Corman is paying her to punish me. It means she can be bought.That’s all I need to know.

I’ll have to roll it out carefully, though. Maybe let her show the movie once or twice so that she can feel like she’s giving it a go, because she does have that righteous warrior thing going on. I will make her job as unpleasant and useless as possible, then make the offer.

A text comes through.

Walt: Where do you want your training block with Elle?

Me: Stella?

Walt: It’s Elle…

I punch in the word “now” and hit send. Being that I’m already thinking about it, best to get it over with. I stand and head through the door. “Everybody out. Bar’s open,” I say. “Snacks. Kitchen.”

People drift to the back. Except Elle. She stands uncertainly. “Is here good?” She motions toward the table.

“Fine,” I say.

She props up an iPad on the table in front of us.

I take the seat next to her. “So it’s Elle? Not Stella.”

“Yes.” She hits play.

“Just going right into the movie?”

“Yes,” she says, not taking her eyes from it. “We’re back with the people living at 341 West Forty-fifth Street.”

“I see,” I say. “So is it supposed to be a documentary or something?”

---