Page 11 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“I don’t know, I just wanted to use that word,” Mia says, also from a faraway land, possibly a faraway planet.

“Entrepreneur,” Lizzie suggests. “Tech entrepreneur.”

At this point, I’ve basically stopped processing language. I don’t know what to make of this Benny that I’m seeing before me. I can’t quite square this guy with my old frenemy, pondering some little robotics thing, rambling on how he’s 72.5% sure some component will fall apart.

Tabitha comes up behind me. “Nerd no more.”

Lizzie reads on: “We caught up with the notoriously publicity-averse Stearnes one afternoon while he was directing the launch of a new product, marshalling his troops with the demanding perfectionism that he has become known for—a remote, driven, intensely private visionary at the helm of one of the fastest growing firms of the year.Wow,” she adds. “One of his homes is right here in New York City.”

“Really?” I say.

“Stearnes is based in New York City, with residences in Los Angeles, Manhattan and Lucerne,” she reads.

“He’s right here in New York?” I ask.

“Lucerne must be where he has the chalet,” Kelsey says, reading her own phone. “Where he keeps his mentally enfeebled wife.”

I frown. “Mentally enfeebled wife?”

“Where do you see that?” Lizzie asks.

“The comments?” Kelsey says. “It’s all the comments are about.”

“You’re reading the comments?” Noelle asks, aghast. “Why are you reading the comments?”

“Because they’re the most interesting part?” Kelsey says, reading on. “It’s what everyone’s saying in the comments.Keeps his wife locked in his Swiss chalet. Why doesn’t that jackass free his wife? The photographer should go in there and free the wife.”

At this point, we’re all gathered around Kelsey, reading the comments.

“Ask Billionaire Bluebeard about his trapped wife!” Lizzie reads. “Journalistic malpractice!’”

Mia slings an arm around my shoulder. “Married to Billionaire Bluebeard! How about that?”

“Not. Funny.”

“What’s Bluebeard?” Jada asks.

“It’s a folktale,” Noelle says. “Bluebeard is a rich dude who has a closet full of dead wives. He marries them and kills them.”

“And you questionourtaste in billionaires!” Mia teases.

“I’m sure the enfeebled wife trapped in a Swiss chalet is just bull,” Tabitha says.

“No, there’s a reporter taking the search for his wife seriously,” Kelsey says. “One of these blogs has aerial photos…lemme find it again…”

“A Vegas wedding doesn’t count,” I protest. “You can get a drive-through wedding in Vegas as easily as you can get a cheeseburger and an order of fries.” I stare down at Benny’s picture, blood racing. “What if he doesn’t want to give me the divorce?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to sign for a quickie no-strings divorce,” Lizzie says. “I highly doubt you two signed a prenuptial. Some women would take him to the cleaners, sue him for a big chunk of his billion-dollar empire.”

“Agree,” Mia says. “If you present him with a no-strings divorce, he’ll won’t be able to sign it fast enough.”

“I’m gonna need a really messed-up T-shirt for this,” I say.

Four

Francine

I standin front of Ventoux, a farm-to-table restaurant, wringing my hands. I should go in. I should just do this. But my legs won’t move. I use my phone to touch up my lipstick. I’m wearing my “I’d tap that” tap dance T-shirt with fun flowered pants and a sweet spring jacket.

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