Chapter Five - Maya
I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said he wanted to become a ballet dancer.
“A book?” I say. “What do you mean a book?”
“You know. It’s a rectangle made of paper, usually. There are words in it. You read them.”
“No, I know what a book is, but what does that have to do with me? Are you looking for a ghostwriter?” Of all the things I might have guessed at, this was far down the list. I’m not sure why it surprises me, though. Everyone with money is always looking for more, and a book that promises other people they can also be billionaires is a new income stream, especially when you can just throw money at a writer. “Because that’s not really what I do.”
“Are you kidding? You think I would let someone else write for me? I’ve got some self-respect, Maya, believe it or not. I have ideas. If they don’t come out in exactly the way I mean for them to come out, they’re not my ideas anymore. No one gets to think for me. But you might be able to think with me in a way that helps.”
I’m not ready to believe that this is a man of unsounded depths. Maybe this is all part of the game. You know, like a higher stakes version of “You’re fifteen minutes late even though you’re actually fifteen minutes early.” But I’d be lying if I said this isn’t getting a lot more interesting.
“So am I going to be a research assistant? A proofreader? What do you actually want me to do?”
He stops pacing and sits on the couch next to me. I can’t help but think about what his weight would feel like, pressing me down into the cushions. “I want you to argue with me,” he says. “I want to see how I might be wrong about my ideas. You wrecked that guy in your debate and that’s what I need. See if you can take my arguments apart and I’ll write accordingly. If you can show me that I’m wrong, then there doesn’t need to be a book. There just needs to be more thinking on my part. And I’ll tell you this if I’m right about you, and I am, then you and I are going to reach a very interesting conclusion together.”
He looks at me and holds my gaze. I’m determined not to look away first, but I can’t help it. In this moment there’s no posturing or bravado. He cares about…something. “What’s the book about?” I say, wondering what could make him this passionate.
“It’s about love and trust,” he says. “And don’t you laugh. Do you want to know why the other girl didn’t last? I wasn’t lying when I said all she wanted to do was fuck, but she wasn’t able to think at all. I’d start talking through ideas with her and her eyes would just glaze over. Have you ever heard about playing down to the competition?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t quite there with her, but she certainly didn’t keep me sharp or challenge me.”
Am I supposed to be his competitor?
He leans forward and puts a hand on my knee. Oh shit, here we go. But he doesn’t seem to know he has done it, and it doesn’t seem a pushy gesture. He’s just connecting. Connecting his hand to my leg. “You’ll able to compete with me.”
I swallow hard. I want to grab his hand and put it between my legs. Nothing like turning yourself into an instant cliché, right? “What’s the other thing?” I say. “You said you need something else.”
Conrad blinks. Then the awareness returns. “Oh shit. Right. Look, I’m going to be honest with you about consulting. I can’t say too much, but I’ve made my name and my fortune as a personality expert. Types and archetypes. I’ve devised a system that has allowed me to work on everything from dating websites to counter-terrorism. I know people and I know how to match them with each other, or turn them into enemies.”
He gets to his feet and looks out the window. It seems like I should do the same so I go and stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Well, it’s more like head to shoulder. I can’t believe how tall he is. They say that tall men earn something like an extra $10,000 per year per inch of height. Conrad, with his bank account, projects like he’s about 20 feet tall. I want to look up at him but I’ve got to keep my cool.
“I think your videos demonstrate that you have an innate understanding of human nature,” he says. “And I think that will make you invaluable to the experiment. And that’s what the book will be about, ultimately. The success of the experiment. But I don’t know if this is the best place for us to start. Any chance that we can get out of here and talk over some food?”
I remember him saying that if he wanted to seduce me he would take me somewhere else. But this doesn’t feel like that. “Do I need to bring anything?” I say.
“Just your brain.”
Even if she can’t admit it, that’s one of the things that every woman wants to hear.
“And something to take notes with.”
Okay. Nice and practical. Nothing wrong with that.
“And don’t change a thing about how you look right now. It’s really working for you.” He winks. “And for me.” Now we’re back in familiar territory as far as the dance between powerful, irresistible men, and the women who try to keep them at arm’s length. But who am I kidding? It’s been less than five minutes since I wanted to put his hands up my dress. He can flatter my mind all he wants, I’m smart and I’ve earned it. I’ve still got a body though, and right now it wants to do all sorts of things to him.
I spare him this internal monolog and roll my eyes. But can I tell you that when he and I step out of the elevator together, the look on Zima’s face is something I wish I could put in a bottle? She was practically vibrating with hatred.
“If you have clients,” she says, “Should I tell them you’ll be back?”
“It’s hard to say, Zima,” he says. “That’s all going to depend on how Maya responds to our date.”
There’s a town car waiting for us outside. A date? Is that what I heard? Remember, I tell myself, this is the man who says he treats life like a game. What better con could there be than for him to tell me he wants to write about love? Especially if he’s going to use me for research. Maybe his plan is to turn me into the cautionary tale.
Let him try. I’m ready for him.