The ensuing days until I left town were like that. We’d find some place private and knock boots, sometimes twice a day, sometimes in my office when we were able. There was rarely any discussion involved, but the thrill of possibly getting caught was enough to get both our motors revved, much like our little outdoor adventure at the provincial park in Canada.
The night before I departed to start the roadshow, I actually left work early. I’d be flying to the East Coast and working my way back west, sometimes meeting Adam in the cities where more of the bankers were located. I’d be attending all the presentations; he’d be there for the biggest and most important ones.
April brought me dinner and she was my dessert. We still didn’t talk about what all the screwing meant—or what it would mean once the company went public and David was voted in as chairman of the board.
But regardless whether we discussed what would or wouldn’t happen, I was beginning to realize that it was going to be a long two weeks without her.
And it was. But not in the way I’d expected.
It quickly became obvious that she was following my itinerary, starting each day with a text message. Those messages soon became the highlight of my day.
Her: How’s Boston treating you?
Me: Not as good as you do.
Her: I’m sure you have some old sexts from former, ahem, “friends” to get you by.
Me: How ‘bout some new ones from you?
Her: Hi, how is Chicago?
Me: It sucks. I like my own bed.
Her: I like your bed, too. Preferably with you in it.
Me: Weiss, YABI (Our adopted acronym for “You are being inappropriate.”)
Her: Dallas! Woo hoo. Ready for some line dancing?
Me: I was born ready—and horny.
Her: You were born inappropriate.
Her: San Francisco…you’re getting warmer.
Me: I’m already hot.
Her: Fawkes, YABI
Me: Of course. And you love it.
Throughout the course of the roadshow, I was hit on a few times by some of the hot underwriters, but to my surprise, I wasn’t interested. They didn’t tempt me at all. I found myself thinking a lot about April instead, wondering what she was doing. Nonetheless, I fought the urge daily to hit the call button on my phone.
Finally, we emerged triumphant. Friday afternoon, just after close of business in New York, Adam and I touched down at John Wayne airport from Seattle. I got the call from our investment banker that the company had been valued at 8.3 billion USD. Our stock was going to open for a cool thirty-five dollars a share the following Monday morning, and we’d be on the floor of the stock exchange to ring the opening bell. It was going to be a feeding frenzy. And it was also going to be the realization of a long-awaited dream.
Adam and I stood by the baggage carousel high-fiving each other after I gave him the news. He immediately pulled out his phone and called Mia to share it with her. And I realized that the first person I wanted to tell was April…
I pulled out my phone and started keying in a text.
Market cap 8.3 bil. $35/share. Keep it quiet for now.
She replied less than a minute later.
Her: OMG! So happy for you. Deleting your text msg now.
Me: Our driver’s on the way, right?
Her: He should already be there.
“Who are you texting?” Adam asked once he hung up with Mia.
“Just making sure our ride is here. I get irritated when I have to wait,” I half-lied.
“We’ve got the company party tomorrow afternoon. We’ll keep it quiet until then and announce when we’re all together.”
“Sure. You going to tell David Weiss ahead of time?”
“Of course. He gets the next phone call.”
“How did Mia take the news that her cousin-slash-fiancé is a billionaire now?”
“She wasn’t very surprised. Happy for me, and all that.”
“Of course she’s happy for you. She gets half of it in the divorce.” I grinned but didn’t bother saying “JK”—he already knew I was joking.
He shook his head with a smile as he walked from the baggage area out to the curb. “I don’t even know why I tell you anything.”
“I know all about the legal particulars. For instance, it’s legal to marry your first cousin in California.”
“Good to know.” Adam approached our usual driver, who was already waiting with the trunk open. He tossed his bag in the back, and I came around and did the same. “Ah c’mon, you’re no fun when you aren’t telling me to fuck off.”
All he did was shoot me a knowing grin. Killjoy.