What Can You Not Buy With Money?

I watched Burgess drive off in his limo. I felt at ease, knowing he’d be all right. Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to take a walk around the city.

Though it was the middle of the day, it was crowded on the sidewalks. People bustled to reach their destinations as soon as possible and I decided to take a shortcut through an alley.

Footsteps behind me caused me to turn around and I saw the homeless man from the night before following me.

I had to let people know I was in trouble, so I let out the loudest scream I could muster, causing him to jump and raise his hands in defense. The bystanders who were passing by the alley looked at me in skepticism and I continued to cry out to the point of my throat stinging. My own voice echoed off of the concrete walls, making it eerie to hear myself.

It amazed me how no one rushed to my aid. Seeing that I was doomed to remain on my own, I took out my phone and began dialing nine-one-one while sprinting down the enclosed back street.

“Wait!” The man called out as he tried to keep up with me. But he had a heavy limp in his leg and staggered in his chase. “No, I’m not going to hurt you! Please!”

Hearing ‘please’ from a desperate and almost tear jerking voice forced me to slow down though my mind was screaming at me to continue fleeing.

“This is about my son, Ben! Stop!”

I couldn’t believe what I just heard and I turned around to stare at him in shock. This caused me to lose my footing and I tripped onto the rough pavement. The wind was forced out of me and my skin stung. I tried to pull myself off but rough hands grabbed my shoulder.

“No!” I tried to pull away but I was surprised to find the hands pulling me upwards to my feet.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” The man exclaimed.

“Get away! I’ve got mace!” I shouted the lie.

“Fine. But hear me out.” The guy took a step back. “My name is Richard Burgess. I know you are Ms. Mary Hall. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand and I stared at it hesitantly.

“Can you prove you’re not lying?”

“Sure, I’ve got I.D. What else do you need, a DNA sample?” The man roared in laughter as he took out a mangled wallet and handed me an expired driver’s license.

“All right, Mr. Burgess,” it felt so strange calling this strange man with Ben’s title. “What do you want?”

“Your help. And your charity.” Richard Burgess clutched his stomach. “I’m hungry. Will you buy me some grub?”

I took him to an empty restaurant, where he ordered food with spontaneity. I wondered why I was letting him eat off my dime, but I dared not anger him. I never saw him at the Burgess mansion, and I doubted from the dirt under his fingernails and the grease in his hair that he saw a shower in a while. For all I knew, he could be dangerous. Or he wasn't even Ben's father.

I sat in silence as the food arrived for him to gorge upon. As I stared at him, I could slowly see the resemblance of Ben and him beginning to emerge. Though it was graying, unkempt, and clumped they had the same hair color. They even had the same skin tone and eye shape. But unlike Benjamin Burgess’ steel blue eyes, Richard Burgess’ had aged silver. Wrinkles lined his face and it was as though looking at the distant future. Would Ben Burgess one day be weathered down into an elderly shadow of his former self?

“Thank you, you’re a real sweet heart,” Richard said in between mouthfuls of food.

I nodded slowly then asked, “What do you want with me?”

“Like I said, your help,” He looked around to make sure we were out of ear shot. “Before I tell you for what, I think you should hear a story.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I have places to be.”

“I know, I know!” He sighed. “You sound just like my son does! But this concerns him—your boss. Have you ever wondered how he came into control of Burgess Incorporated?”

I shook my head and shrugged. “I never asked.” Though this was true, I figured that he had created the corporation on his own. When I had been a fan of his in high school, I never heard in all of the magazines or online how he became the wealthy and influential CEO.

“Well, he stole it. No, that’s not it.” Richard scratched his head. “He took it out from under me, as any son of mine would do.”

“I’m not following you,” I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Could you be more specific?”

“Of course. One day, I was at the top of the world.” Richard moved his hands around in animated glee as he explained. “I inherited the corporation from my father and managed to bring it to the top. It was the greatest technological corporation around and it was beginning to enter into the software market. My son was the president; second in command. I trusted him, I gave him all the encouragement, and I watched him grow in his own wealth, power, and I was proud. He was the prodigetic child that any parent would dream of raising. He had—has skills and brains, that boy.” He cleared his throat. “And then, one morning, he walks up to me and tells me he’s bought the company. He took over the stocks. The boy did a hostile takeover on his own father!” Richard slammed his fist on the table, causing his drinking glass to clatter with the table and causing me to jump.

The servers of the restaurant hadn’t heard or cared about the commotion.

“I see,” I nodded. “Do you want me to arrange a meeting with him?”

“Hell no,” Richard snorted. “Seeing him in this state would kill me. I want you to help me take my company back.”

“No.” I was firm, but not surprised. I half expected him to ask this.

“Damn it, I’ll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams!” The man pursued with more desperation leaking out of him like perspiration. “If you help me make a takeover to that son of mine, I swear on life and death that I’ll give you power. Share options. Money. I’m sure a lady like you would like money. And you’re young! I’ll use my influence to put you in the top schools. For you and your kin!”

“I’m sorry, Richard, but I will not do it.” I stood up. “I’ll pay for the meal and we’ll go our separate ways.”

My heart was half breaking and half racing as I paid and left the restaurant.

“You were my last hope!” He called out at my back. “You leave a defeated man and he’ll die!”

I refused to turn around and I wondered why I’d do ‘the right thing’ at all. Guilt and sadness showered over me in the form of chilled rain and I looked up to see dark clouds and the impending sound of thunder.

>

Dear Pierre,

How is everything? Back in France you told me that you would reply to my emails but this is the third one I’ve sent. It’s been so long since we’ve talked and I feel a little scared. There’s a lot to explain and I hope you can give me some advice soon.

First, could you explain about what is it about Bohr that drives Burgess to the brink? I didn’t think a guy like [Burgess] could act so strangely. I’ve only known him for a short time but I’m worried. Is it normal for him to drink when he’s troubled?

I’m asking because Jonathan Bohr called and Burgess was scared--to the point that I got nervous. Bohr even scheduled a short meeting. It turns out a school rival/former friend of mine has become his assistant. Burgess has warned me that Bohr has bad intentions for me. What do I do?

And I came across Burgess’ father, Richard Burgess. I haven’t told Ben yet, because I don’t know what it would do to him. But I don’t want to do anything stupid. The problem is Richard Burgess asked me to conspire with him to take the company away from Ben.

Please get back to me. I hope you, Madame Slater, and everyone are well.

-Mary

It was November. Winter was quickly approaching, apparent in the cool breezes and how Lucy would wear her leather jacket whenever she’d go for a motorcycle ride.

I was alone in my room. My roommate had gone off on a motorcycle ride early in the morning, leaving a small note with a small scribble explaining she was going to grab groceries. It was now nine at night. She had disappeared and I was plagued with worry. I had the day off and I was lying in my new bed in my new clothes, aimlessly typing on my new laptop as I tried to think of a way of bringing a ray of warmth and ease in the cold and depressing winter. Over the lapse of time Lucy and I afforded to furnish the condo, and I went on a shopping spree with the copious amounts of money I had now in my savings.

Thanksgiving was vastly approaching, marking more than two months from that fateful birthday. Though this family-oriented holiday was supposed to bring comfort and a sense of home to the country, I felt unsure of what was to happen this Thanksgiving. I never really celebrated it, though my mother would microwave me a bowl of Chef Boyardee Ravioli and serve herself a nice bottle of scotch.

I was scared to ask Walker or Lucy their plans for the upcoming weekend. I didn't want rejection, so I kept quiet whenever they were around.

I heard the front door being thrown open and slammed shut, jerking me off of my mattress and practically rushing out of the room.

“Lucy,” I greeted with a mix of relief and anxiety. I decided I was going to ask her. “What’re you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy came in with only a helmet in her hands. The groceries she claimed to get were nonexistent.

My eyes raised up to her face and my jaw dropped. “Oh my god!”

Lucy gingerly rubbed at the bottom of her black eye. “What?”

I went into the kitchen to get some ice. “How did that happen?”

“Just a bitch fit my bro threw.”

“He hit you?” My eyes widened.

“Yeah,” Lucy accepted the ice and applied it to her eye. “It’s my fault, I fucked with him; called him a little bitch. He took it like one.”

I bit my lip. “Oh.” It was one of those moments when I couldn’t find any words to say. "Do you want me to call the police?"

“Nah. So you want to do something this weekend?” Lucy’s question was more of a remark. “Sure. I’m game. It beats doing nothing at the pub. And I’m sure Walker’d like to cook up something weird and decent.”

“Great!” I decided to let her change the subject. “I’ll go get Walker.”

“Sure. Oh, can I use your computer?”

“Go ahead,” I called out as I left the residence and visited Walker.

“Hey,” Walker opened his apartment door and my face burned seeing him in just an A-shirt and boxer briefs, his hair tussled as though he had just woke up. Two months and not a single moment of physical affection was weighing itself down on me. I was doubting if he even liked me. “I thought you’d be at work.”

“I’d say the same for you,” I replied. “You have any plans this Thanksgiving?”

“Not yet,” Walker had a goofy grin and huskily asked, “Want to make some?” This was the first innuendo I heard him say in a long time.

Smiling back, I added “Why don’t you come over to our place. Maybe you could… help out and we’ll eat food and stuff... Be merry and all that.”

“Merry, Mary?” Walker crooked into a mischievous smile. “Sure. I’ll be more than glad to cook for you. As long as you clean up afterwards. When I have my way with a kitchen it gets a little dirty.”

“Ha-ha,” I was stifling a giggle.

“Oh, and shall Lucy join us?”

“Of course.”

“How’s the search of the… potential manfriend?” Walker looked disgruntled.

“No luck.”

“That’s too bad,” Walker shrugged and I thought I saw a look of smug relief that quickly vanished.

My phone rang, and I could see it was Burgess.

Walker let out a sigh and leaned against the door frame in annoyance. “We’ll talk more later,” Walker forced a grin but the disappointment whined in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I went to answer the call.

>

Burgess was waiting outside. He sounded desperate, and explained to me it involved Jonathan Bohr.

I didn’t have time to change into more professional attire as I quickly exited the complex to see him outside his limo.

“What happened?” I was almost out of breath and hesitant to see his angry and frustrated stare.

“Three of my directors sent in their letters of resignation this morning,” Burgess folded his arms. “They’ve quit for Bohr Technologies.”

“All right, wasn’t there any—?” I was cut off with Burgess raising his hand to silence me. His eyes were in cold disbelief at whatever it was behind me. I turned to see Lila Maddock approaching us, a smile on her lips. Despite the maliciousness on the inside she looked truly innocent as she approached us.

“Hello there,” She greeted the two of us with nods. “What a nice day it is, isn’t it?”

“Where is he?” Burgess snapped. “So now you're following me?"

Lila smirked. “This is all coincidence, like we’d waste any more time than we need with you.” She looked at me with the corner of her eye. “How’s your mother, Mary? I’m sure you’re dying to spend Thanksgiving with her.”

“I wouldn’t know, I haven't seen her in months.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Lila shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “So, tell me, how often do you get ambushed by the media, Mr. Burgess?”

Burgess stared her down and I was thankful I was on his side. He looked like he could drive a person insane with that stare.

“Because it seems that the magazines haven’t been getting much dirt on you lately, have they?”

I heard a click from afar and turned to see a man with his camera flashing like lightning as it was focused at Ben.

Burgess smirked as he noticed the appearance of the cameras. “Great. What’d you tell them?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just that there was about to be a giant girl fight due to your womanizing.”

I took a step back as Lila’s cheer turned dark. She pounced onto me, her body heavy as it slammed me against the limo windows.

I tried to push her off, but it resulted in being slapped smartly across the face and I felt my hair being tugged. I fell the ground and covered myself. I heard gasps and yelling from around me and I could hear the growing clatters of cameras being taken.

Suddenly the painful pummels stopped and I looked up to see Burgess picking Lila up by the back of her neck and backhanding her, causing her to fall to the ground.

“How could you, Ben?!” Lila looked up at him with shined tears and I watched in a stinging awe at how quick the events were running. She was a natural actress. “How could you lie to me?!”

“Cut the crap,” Burgess snapped. He blinked as paparazzi surrounded us, almost drowning the black car and swallowing us whole. The flashes were almost blinding.

“Mr. Burgess! Care to explain this?” A woman screamed to outmatch the other questions that were pouring over us.

“Quick! Someone call the police!” A man shouted.

Burgess opened the door and pulled at my wrist to join him. I watched on in horror as two pairs of photographer hands grabbed at Burgess’ shoulders and tried to pull him back out into the open.

“Drive, damn it!” Burgess yelled and we escaped from the growing crowd. As he closed the door he brushed off his arms as though the people’s hands had been covered in filth. He brought his tightly clenched fist close to his hand and hissed, “Damn it. Damn it. Shit.”

I sneezed and he looked at me. “Sorry,” I whispered.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll have some of my guards shadow you from now on.”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” I protested with a desperate passion.

Burgess looked at me. “This is Bohr being nice. He’s going easy on you right now.”

“It’s not like he’ll kill me,” I shook my head. “I’ve dealt with Lila all high school. She’ll only pick on people that she knows won’t hit back.”

“Then you’ll need a bodyguard. Or a gun. Or at least one of those friends of yours. Walker’s good with a knife. Or next time hit back.”

“I don’t want to hit back.” I shook my head.

“There’s being noble and being stupid. And you’re both.”

“Right, this is coming from the brutal Ben Burgess who can’t take on some whimpy and skinny CEO. You could take that loser any day!”

Burgess smirked. “But I don’t want to.”

“Exactly!” I was almost exasperated. “If you really wanted to you could take him and his company completely down. Why don’t you? Why are you scared of him?”

“Maybe I could destroy him. And maybe he could destroy me. But he and I have more in common than you think. In fact, we’re a lot like Ms. Maddock. We only pick on those weaker on us. That way we know for sure we’ll win.”

“No, you don’t pick on anyone weaker. You just pick on those who’ll let you win.” I paused. “I bet you’ve been throwing mud at him too.”

“What a philosopher you are,” he scoffed. “I may have… frozen some of his funds.”

I shook my head in annoyance. “So what are you worried about me for? You seem to have everything under control."

“Your shirt is torn,” Burgess switched the subject around as he eyed my chest.

I looked down and quickly pulled my shirt up to my collar bone, embarrassed that my bra had been out in the open. “You could have told me sooner.”

“You were so lost in arguing with me that I couldn’t bear but let you divert your attention,” Burgess laughed. "Don't worry, there was hardly anything there to freak out about."

"They're bigger than your brain, sir," I growled back.

We arrived at Burgess Incorporated, where I tried to keep my blouse from falling below my breast. I saw that Vern Karlsson was on duty at the front desk. He had on a pink turtleneck and his hair had grown long enough so he tied it behind him in a ponytail. I blinked and an epiphany shoved into me, enrapturing my conniving emotions into action.

“Hi, Vern,” I smiled down at him.

“Hi… Mary,” Vern awkwardly forced a smile back. “May I help you?” I never noticed how shy he was, but maybe his discomfort was from me holding my ripped shirt against my chest clumsily.

“Yes, actually,” I bit my lip as I tried to think of the right words to say, “We haven’t talked much and I was wondering if you’d like to hang out sometime.”

He looked at me blankly and then slowly shook his head. “Sorry… I’m busy…”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ll be working Thanksgiving,” I shook my head as I threw in some bait.

“It’s not that I asked… it’s just… um—“ He looked over to the direction where Burgess headed and leaned up to whisper, “I don’t want to lose this job.” There was a clear intimidation of Burgess imprinted into his psyche.

“What about your family?” I pressed. “Won’t they miss you this holiday?”

“Actually—no. They don’t like me. They have this silly idea that I’m not straight.” For a guy he was pretty open about his sexuality. I noticed he would often fidget and tug at a lose strand of hair, almost like that of a high school flirt.

“Parents,” I let out a sigh. “Did I tell you mine kicked me out on my birthday?”

“Ouch. You seem to be doing pretty good for yourself. How’s the job treating you?”

“Work is work.” I shrugged. “But you seem to be working all the time here and it doesn’t seem fair. At least you’ve got friends to hang with this weekend.”

“Heh, friends.” Vern shook his head. “I’m not that good at making friends.”

“Well that’ll change. So what do you say? There’s a small Thanksgiving shindig going on at me and my roommate’s place. A friend of ours is cooking and he’s pretty good. He’s a chef.”

“That sounds tempting but I don’t think Mr. Burgess would let me…”

“He’s a sushi chef,” I added, wondering if it would merely hurt and not benefit my pursuation.

"Mr. Burgess?"

"No, no, my friend. You'd like him, he's really funny. He's also a knife juggler."

Vern frowned. “Now I’d like to go. If I could, I would…”

“I’ll talk to Big Ben.” I gave him a thumb up as I began to walk toward the elevators.

>

“Mr. Burgess,” I entered to see him looking up in a pair of his reading glasses that I couldn’t resist but smile at. Despite getting mauled at by a crazed girl I was brimming with enthusiastic hope. Vern seemed like a perfect depiction of Lucy’s needs in a guy.

“Yes?”

“Do I have the day off Thanksgiving?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Do I need to work Thanksgiving?” I reworded the question and wrung my hands in worry that he’d deny me.

“…I wouldn’t think so,” He muttered.

I let out a breath of relief. “And what about Vern?”

He raised his eyebrow higher. “Is it any of your business?”

“It’s a long story but we were planning on doing… stuff… Thursday.”

“Oh, and what stuff?” Burgess leaned back in his chair with a light sneer.

“Dinner. With a few friends.”

Burgess lost any curl of a smile and looked at me blankly. “No, he’ll not be working.”

“Great, thanks,” I turned to leave but stopped. “Do you need anything?” I felt a downpour of gratitude for his sudden generosity. Burgess was no scrooge for the holidays.

“Some coffee, this time strong. Hold the sugar.” He muttered as he turned his eyes away from me and continued to his work.

I wondered why I felt discomfort, but I pushed it away to do my duty of being his secretary.