I stand on stage, scanning the crowd and all the dressed up, pretty women. Which one of them do I want to take home tonight?
It would be nice if I could find one I want to see for more than one night. Last night I was with a voluptuous vixen I couldn’t wait to tie up, but she turned out to be dumb as bricks, with a personality even less interesting.
The sex was okay, but not worth having to see her again for. Fucking a girl is never a problem for me— they line up down the block— but finding one worth sticking around to fuck again is always more of a problem.
And I’m not talking about finding a girl for a relationship. I don’t do relationships. After I’ve been in two failed relationships —or, I suppose, one and a half, because the second one failed so soon and so epically it barely counts, not to mention the fact that it never really got off the ground, anyway— I know my limitations. The only commitment I want with a woman is her promise to let me have my way with her again if I like what I get the first time around, which these days has become more and more rare.
Getting them into bed, though, is hardly the problem, and I know I could have any single woman in this room tonight. I’m a decorate war veteran, having served two tours of duty in my four years with the United States Air Force’s Special Operations unit. My job was to parashoot out of helicopters and rescue fallen soldiers. Tell that to a girl and see if she’ll turn you down— especially if you still have the physique to prove it.
“Tonight I would like to present the Albuquerque Young People in Tech award to Wade Covington,” the announcer states, jarring me back into reality and reminding me of yet another reason I have no problem fulfilling my voracious sexual appetite— I’m a tech genius and I’m filthy fucking rich.
“Mr. Covington has demonstrated remarkable abilities to start and grow a tech company, and it’s paid off handsomely,” the announcer continues.
“Woot woot,” call out the members of my former unit at one of the tables in the front.
They make snide jokes like, “He sure is handsome all right. What a pretty boy.”
“Mr. Covington took what started out as a well- intentioned idea and turned it into a billion dollar company,” the announcer states. “His innovation and accomplishments are a shining example of local boy made good, and it is with pleasure that I grant him this award.”
“There’s nothing good about this boy,” my friends call out.
The announcer looks at them a bit surprised, as if he’s not used to such rowdiness in this fine establishment. And he’s probably not. That’s my friends for you.
I look over at them with a mixture of gratitude and envy. I’m glad they’re still here to support me after everything we’ve been through together. But I still get fucking upset that I can’t be active duty service with them anymore. Even though I’ve done much better in the private sector, making tons of money and staying safer both physically and mentally, I loved being a pararescuer with them.
And now I lost that chance, just like I lost other opportunities in my life. Such as that first relationship I fucked up, which haunts me to this day.
But now’s not the time to think about that. Now’s the time to accept this award.
“Thank you,” I tell the announcer, as I approach the podium and take the plaque from his hands.
“I would like to thank Albuquerque Young People in Tech for all your help. As well as the members of my former USAF pararescue unit,” I say, nodding to my buddies. The Bradford brothers are there, as are many other old friends. “Thank you for the support and inspiration.”
“Aww, ain’t that nice,” come their mocking coos. “You never could have done it without us.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter to them under my breath, but I’ve missed their jokes and the comradery.
“Congratulations once again,” the announcer says to me. Then he turns to the guests in the ballroom. “And with that, it’s time to enjoy your dinner.”
“What dinner?” some of my friends complain. They’ve never been known for their politeness. “We have no dinner.”
The announcer furls his eyebrows in confusion.
“I’ll certainly check on the status of dinner,” he says, nodding his head at me before scurrying away.
I head over to my friends’ table, glad to be out of the spotlight. I’m no pro at public speaking. Although I run a large company, I’m usually behind a desk, making things happen on a computer or barking orders to assistants. It’s not in my nature to stand up and gracefully accept an award— I think such things are rather silly. I prefer to keep moving, keep being productive, rather than let either criticism or praise slow me down. But the young entrepreneurs foundation that presented me with the award tonight had provided a lot of funding and support for my enterprise and without them
Relieved that my part in the dog and pony show is over, I shake Dr. Davis’ hand, head off stage and sit down in the empty chair at my unit’s table. Everyone gives me high fives and pats on the back, but I just want the attention off of me.
I sit and watch the other contestants for Made- Over Freak of the Year have their faces and photos displayed and their stories told by Dr. Davis. As I sit down at the table, Jensen Bradford leans over to me and grumbles, “We’re supposed to be eating by now but it’s taking them forever to serve the food. I’m starving.”
I look around just in time to see a male server bring a pitcher of iced tea to our table.
“Any refills on drinks here?” he asks.
“Iced tea doesn’t fill up our empty stomachs,” complains Freddy, one of my fellow service members. “Any idea when the actual food will be served?”
“My apologies, once again, Sir,” the waiter says, his face flushed.
I feel bad for the guy and wish I could tell my unit to fucking calm down. But I don’t want to make a scene.
“The food should definitely be out soon,” the waiter reassures us.
I’m still nervous over having to have been on stage, so I’m not even fucking hungry. I just want to take a moment and reflect on how far my company has come. I had no idea it would do so well, but the money started doubling and then tripling, so I kept at it. And now that the stocks have gone public, I’m officially rich. Very, very rich.
I never in my life thought I’d be a billionaire. But then again, nothing in my life has turned out the way I thought it would. Some of that has been for the best, and some has been for the worst. But at least I have money to make up for anything that’s gone wrong. Sometimes money just isn’t quite enough though, and I yearn for more— to be able to turn back time, do things different, better— but that’s impossible and it’s also not worth thinking about right now because there’s nothing I can do to change it.