Part One
JASON
Outside, a storm is raging in the city of New York. I’m not outside, though. I’m inside the prestigious Tribeca Rooftop, at a charity event for the Humane Society.
I love dogs. So when I was asked to attend, I immediately RSVP’d with a yes. Dogs and I see eye to eye on many things.
I like the way they live their lives—doing what they want, when they want, and with however many they want. I’m not a man who believes in monogamy. Never have, never will.
My invention is what made me rich enough to be asked to this event. I invented this little app to help people who like to keep more than one fish on the line at a time.
It’s a sweet little system that makes sure you don’t run into girlfriend or boyfriend number two or three when you’re out with someone else. My app, the PH or Polyamory Handler, is for those who have more than one love interest at a time, but don’t want their various love interests to know that.
Those types of things never go over well, no matter how hard anyone tries to go the honest route. Believe me, I’ve tried that. So much blood, so many tears, and so much destruction!
Neither males nor females like finding out they’re only one of several, or in my case, many. It’s a shame, really. Dogs don’t seem to mind, though.
I’ve been called a dog, or a wolf, on occasion. Okay, about two hundred or so occasions. It hurt the first hundred times, then it stopped hurting and I accepted the fact I am what I am.
Then it occurred to me that there have to be more like me—more people who need the attention of more than one person at a time. So I got to work on an application that would track the people I was involved with.
Keeping tabs on where they were, especially when I was out and about with another love interest, was the main objective. One can imagine how uncomfortable it is when you’re out, having a nice evening with a special someone and another special someone happens upon the scene. It can get really messy!
With the tap of a finger, people can bring up my app, and for the low, low price of only one hundred and fifty dollars a month, they can use my technology to track their partners.
Now, this is not merely a tracking device. No, no!
This app stores the person’s complete name, including any pet names or specific terms of endearment you use for that particular person. It can be a major faux pas to forget that one girl loves to be called baby and another hates it. Thus the need for the cue cards, as I tagged them, to keep the names straight.
Of course, there’s a place to put in their family and friends so you can keep track of all their interests. You make a neat little file on each person you enjoy spending time with. There’s a counter to keep track of the number of dates and where you went on each, as well as the times and dates you’ve been intimate.
And there’s no limit on how many you can track at any given time. So that makes it a limitless resource for anyone who likes to dabble in the love market. I love to dabble.
Women of every type are my type!
Even now, as I stand in front of an enormous window looking out at the rainy New York skyline, I’m catching women out of the corner of my eye. If one grabs my attention, then I’ll hone in on her.
Most of the time, the women come to me first. I rarely have to go up to one. Women flock to me for some reason. I weed out a few of them, but mostly I give anyone a chance.
If I decide to make a woman a member of the Jason Brennan Pack, I’ll ask for her cell phone and tap in my phone number, but also do a quick download of my app to her phone, which goes in under a ghost mode so she’s completely unaware that I can now track her.
It’s genius, I know!
I’ve been told my invention is an invasion of privacy. To those critics, I give the bird. Do you want to know about invasion of privacy?
Have one girlfriend and let her catch you with another. Your shit all gets gone through. House, phone, car, your body. It’s a real invasion of privacy then.
So my motto is to keep things straight. Life is so much better when you’re organized.
Someone taps a glass, trying to capture our attention. I turn away from the window and look toward the front of the large room they’ve gathered us in.
A blonde woman in a red dress is the one who wants our attention. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to invite you all to purchase the book we published last month. It has pictures of many different strays from all over the United States, their individual success stories, and how the Humane Society made that happen for them.”
A few people begin to line up to make the purchase and I find myself moving forward to buy one of those books too. I do like a good dog success story after all.
I can’t have a dog myself. I’m always here, there, and yonder. I try not to stay in one place too long. It’s much too easy to get caught if you do.
That’s the other thing my app has—little suggestions and hints to let the purchaser do the smartest things when playing the field. Tips like, don’t go to the same restaurant all the time. Someone is bound to tell on you if you do.
Little helpful things like that go a long way toward help newbies to the game of juggling love interests do better than if they were left to their own devices. And I am always ready to help my fellow man, or woman for that matter.
I’m not a hypocrite. Women are players of the game of love too. And far be it from me to deny them access to my plethora of knowledge.
The smell of a fruity perfume wafts passed my nose as a woman comes up to get in line behind me. Her soft voice comes from very close to my ear, “Hi. You’re that billionaire I read about, aren’t you?”
I turn around and find a tall, thin redhead batting her fake eyelashes at me. “You haven’t read about me, I assure you.”
Her brows furrow. “So you aren’t rich?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said you haven’t read about me. How I made my billions is not public knowledge and never will be,” I say, then take a sip of my champagne.
“And why is that,” she asks as she reaches out and takes my flute of champagne from me and takes a sip herself, leaving her red lipstick imprint on the crystal.
She hands it back to me, making sure her fingers graze my hand. I give her my million-dollar smile, as I can see she’d like to become a member of the Jason Brennan Pack, but I already have a redhead in New York and she’s more well-rounded than this skinny trick.
“That’s because my invention is top secret.” I place the half-full glass on a table near me.
She notices I’ve ditched my drink, as her eyes are glued to it. “Top secret, like you sold it to the FBI or the CIA?”
“Top secret, as in I’m not telling you.” I turn back around, ignoring the woman.
“What an ass,” I hear her tell the woman behind her.
I think she’s an ass. It’s obvious she’s here to try to find a rich man for herself. Nothing more than that. She isn’t here for her love of animals. She’s here to snag a healthy wallet.
I hate gold diggers!
When I was twenty-seven, I came up with my app and by the next year, I was well on my way to making my first billion. A year after that, when I turned twenty-nine, I was knee-deep in money and very well established.
Last month, I turned thirty and had a nice dinner with one of my girls, then a late0-night drink with another, and I woke up the next morning with yet a different woman and we had crazy morning sex for three hours.
It was a great birthday!
My mother called me on my birthday and asked me when I was going to find a nice girl, settle down, and give her some grandkids. I told her never.
Settling down is for people who quit playing the game. I’m no quitter!
There are those people who think the person with the most toys in the end is the winner. I’m the guy who thinks the one with the most notches on their bedpost is the real winner.
But in the game, one can’t hurt too many people, or they lose. It’s a delicate sport I play. Emotions and feelings are involved. A crying woman actually hurts my heart.
I hate it!
So it’s never my intention to hurt anyone. Not ever. Hence the need for the application I created.
It stops others from being hurt, but you still get to live life the way you want to. I did write up a code of ethics that a purchaser must read before I allow them to make the purchase.
Rule number one. You must go and get a complete physical and have blood work done to be absolutely sure you are disease free. This is essential.
And there’s a reminder on the app to do this once a year. So you never forget. Health is not a thing to mess around with.
Also, I advise females to use two types of birth control. One that is taken in some form, but also condoms. I advise all to use condoms every single time.
When choosing this lifestyle, it’s not fair to bring some poor innocent kid into the mix. Not only is it bad for the kid, it messes up your game, too.
If you fuck up, don’t follow the rules, and get some chick pregnant, or you’re a chick and you find yourself pregnant, I strongly advise that person to end their gaming days.
Stop the monthly subscription to my app, buy some wedding rings, and do the right thing. It’s only my advice, but I put it in all caps, so they’d see I really mean it.
Lightning strikes outside and the lights go dim for a moment as the white light zig-zags passed the window. I can’t see for a moment, due to the flash, and when my vision comes back, I see the line has moved and I’m still standing in the same place.
The redhead taps my shoulder. “Care to move up, stud? Or should we pass you?”
“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” I move up and grab what looks like a Tom Collins off the tray of a passing waiter.
My head’s been kind of cloudy here lately. Turning thirty may not sound like a big deal when you say it. But, physically, it makes a difference.
I’m not saying I feel like an old man or anything like that. I just have a weird urgency. For what, I don’t know.
Maybe my crazy mother has put a curse on me to find a woman and settle down. I shudder with the thought.
A wife, kids, a few pets. Yuk!
That life is for the yuppies and nerds of the world. Not me!
Not the man who invented the perfect thing to keep track of as many women as he wants. I think I have fifty now. Worldwide, of course!
In New York, I only have three. The majority of my women are from the southern states. I’m a sucker for southern girls, probably because I grew up in a little town in Texas. It was much too small to get away with my antics. My parents still live there, though. It’s been years since I visited. I should make some time to do that.
The person in front of me steps out of the way, and I see a young woman sitting at one side of the table. She’s signing the inside of the book for the lady in front of me.
“Who should I make this to?” she asks.
I know that voice!
That sweet, southern voice from my younger days. “Brittany Caldwell?