Page 64 of Fresh Tracks
“Did you just lick me?”
She nods, focused on her laptop. “Asks the man smelling my neck.”
I huff a laugh and kiss the spot just under her ear and I feel her suck in a breath. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.”
She clicks the trackpad on the laptop and rests her hands on her thighs. “OK. So you already signed off on all the charities and foundations I wanted to give to. Jake already sent the funds to them. So that’s all wrapped up.” Her eyes flick over her shoulder to meet mine again.
“Yep, I remember all ofthat.”
She nods and looks back at her screen, pulling up a set of presentation slides. I rest my hands in the dip of her waist, my fingertips tracing the outlines of her hip bones.
“So yeah, obviously you know your budget for charitable giving is kind of crazy.” She waves her hands in the air, her eyes still focused forward on the laptop. “I mean giving eight figures a year is unheard of unless you’re a billionaire or something.”
My jaw tenses and my heart skips a beat hearing that word. Obviously people know I’m successful, but I’ve never liked the idea of people knowing just how successful. My grip on her tightens, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Alright, so hear me out. Your goal is to do the most good, make the biggest impact, right?” She turns and looks back at me.
“Yes. I mean obviously there are other benefits to giving that much, but that has always been the point.”
She smiles and looks down at her laptop. I notice the slide is a collage of places and people. I recognize most of them. National Parks I’ve been to, places I’ve lived, even a music school I think we donated to years ago.
“I call this TJ’s — well Tommy’s — moodboard.” She stretches her arms out wide and makes a big, circular gesture. “Think of all the different people and places you’ve wanted to help over the years. And I’m going to tell you, there are a lot of them.”
“That sounds about right,” I say with an amused laugh.
“You guys have helped a lot of people, but you have also been so inefficient about how you’re going about it. You’ve been basically taking a scatterbrained, shotgun method just making it rain money to whatever place fits your vibe at the moment.” She makes quick, hand gestures out in every direction around her. “Yes, you’re getting a lot of money to a lot of people, but you’re not getting the most bang for your buck.”
She clicks and the next slide pops up, showing what looks liketwo flow charts next to each other. “So Jake said you never actually read stuff, so I’m trying to keep this as simple as possible. On the left, this really messy looking chart, is what you’re doing now. Each place you’re giving to, they have their own administration, their own facilities, all of this overhead.”
“You mean your old job? I thought it was a good thing to help support them to cover their costs.”
Her hand hovers over the keyboard and nods. “Yes. That is true, but someone that has as much of a budget as you can do more.”
She points her finger at the simpler chart on the right of the screen. “With your budget, you could establish and build your own foundation. You could hire your own staff and everything. You could pick and choose exactly what projects you want to work on or where your money goes. You could still give to other causes and charities too, but you could also set up scholarship funds and micro-grants to get money straight into the hands of the people that need it.”
She looks at me and I can see just how excited she is with her blinding smile and the sparkle in her eyes.
I shift under her, meeting her eyes. “So what do you need from me to make something like this happen, besides a very generous budget?”
She gnaws on her lower lip, her eyes darting between the screen and me.
“I need you. I needTommy Jacob.”
I laugh. “You’ve already got me.”
I reach up and tuck a purple strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into my touch before shaking her head and looking back down at her laptop. “I need you. For this to work, I need your name. I need your face. I need your public involvement.”
This time, my heart doesn’t just skip a beat, it freezes. I close my eyes, listening to her, already knowing my answer.
“I know you and Jake have given anonymously for years. I get it, so many donors do. But you have the means to make such a huge impact. And if people see your name and your face attached to it, you’ll get more volunteers and support. You’ll get other organizations wanting to collab with you.” I open my eyes to find her looking at me, her eyes pleading.
Everything about her idea is perfect. It’s sound. She’s right. Pride wells in my chest knowing just how much of a big thinker she is. It’s amazing work, for anyone else but me.
“No.” The word feels bitter and foreign and I hate it the second it floats off my lips.
I see the look of disappointment in her eyes and it guts me to my core. Being public about my wealth, with my past, is a line I don’t know if I’ll ever be willing to cross.
To her credit, she nods and gives me a weak smile. I already hate myself for ever telling her no and doing anything to dull her brightness.
