Six
“I’m listening.”
Rose’s blood pressure jumped ten points in the space of a heartbeat, and she felt it thumping hard in her neck. At the same time she felt like she was about to pass out. So whatever was going on it evened out in the end because she clearly wasn’t capable of handling the situation that she was in, not really.
“I’ve run into a little bit of trouble, and I could use someone’s help.”
“What makes you think that I can help you? What makes you think I would help you?”
“Almost anyone could help me. Fifty percent of the world’s population.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I need a woman.”
“They tell me that they’re easy to get when you want them. Heck, a man with your finances, I can’t imagine that it’s that hard to find one who will do it for a few dollars.”
“More than a few dollars, I think you’ll find.”
“Yeah. More than a few dollars. But I imagine that you could find somebody. Why me?”
“We’ve got a connection.”
“Yeah?” Her blood pressure jumped again. Did he know? “What’s that?”
“You’re on the hook for me, and I’m on the hook for you. You’re at my mercy. I could fire you any time. Call it insubordination. Your manager seems to think that you’re… here’s the paper. ‘Highly insubordinate.’ There wouldn’t be any question.”
“Hah! Good luck trying that.”
“If I were to try to fire you, though…”
“Your little scheme yesterday comes out. And it destroys you, and everything about you. You go to jail, but not until after your assets become my assets.”
“That’s right. You’ve got me by the balls. But I’ve got a good position, myself. As long as neither of us decides to go nuclear, I think we’re pretty even.”
“Okay, then. What are you trying to get at?”
“I’ve heard that there are several government agencies planning to come after me, with everything they’ve got.”
“You managed to piss of Uncle Sam that bad? What did you do, fail to pay your taxes?”
“Nothing quite that extreme.”
“I assumed you types never paid your taxes.”
“Of course I pay taxes. The IRS pays me, I pay so many taxes. That’s how they caught Al Capone, and I’m not nearly so friendly.”
“You make yourself sound like some kind of international terrorist.”
He laughed. It was low and rough. Like the rest of him. “Not quite that unfriendly, either. But I’m in this to make money, and as much as some people wouldn’t admit to it, that’s not a popular position these days.”
“So? Where do I come into this?”
“I need to ferret away some assets. Of course, if I start transferring assets to any third party, then the IRS is going to be all over that. Embezzlement is a big deal, and they’ve got a lot of people looking for it. In a business empire like mine, they’re looking hard, and constantly.”
“I’m still not following.”
“But if you transfer money from your left hand to your right hand, is that a crime?”
“No? I feel like there’s a trick to this question.”
“You’re exactly right. No crime in that. How about from my left pocket to my right pocket?”
“No problem, I guess.”
“So what if I transferred some money from my savings to my checking account?”
“I get it, I guess. Make your point.”
“So what if I transferred money from my account, to an account that is still technically mine?”
“Like what? Like a trust fund?”
“What if, for example, my wife and I had separate accounts? Our household still has the money. I’m the head of household. Her money is, fundamentally, my money. Right?”
Rose paused. “I’m not sure if I’m following.”
“If my wife and I make money, and it all goes into a shared account, is she spending my money?”
“I guess not.”
“So if we had separate accounts, but she put her checks into my bank, and I gave her an allowance?”
“Her money, I guess.”
“But in a very real way, it’s my money, too, right?”
“Right. What are you getting at?”
“What I’m getting at is, if I transfer assets to my wife, it’s hardly a change at all.”
“So that’s why you need a woman?”
He turned to the empty room in a theatrical gesture. “Someone get this woman a medal.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Your relationship. It’s complicated, you said. Not exactly what a woman would say about a husband that she adored and wanted around for the rest of her life.”
“I don’t hate Duncan. He’s a good man.”
“But not husband material, normally. You’re concerned about those girls.”
That was correct. “Supposing that’s true, what are you proposing?”
“You know what I’m proposing. You leave him, you come to me.”
“And what about my girls? Where do they fit into this? And where do I sleep?”
“You sleep at my place, of course.”
“So this would be a real marriage?”
“Nobody has a real marriage any more, Rose. Marriage is a dated idea. Whether you like it or not, whether you agree with it or not, marriage was dead long before the Republicans finally lost their gay marriage fight. Over sixty percent of marriages end in divorce.”
“Okay?”
“So I’m suggesting that you come to me, and we have an understanding from the beginning. We resolve our little complications. And you come, and you live with me.”
“What’s in it for me? You get to hide all this stuff, and I get… what, a different bed?”
“You get what you want. You get security for your little girls.”
“Not if you’re planning on divorcing me any minute.”
He laughed. “That’s not going to happen.”
“No?”
“Of course not.” He settled down into his chair. “If I did, then that would be even more suspicious. They’d be looking so hard at my finances, I’d never get out from under the IRS. And of course, they’d have a newly-estranged wife to turn to, and I can’t imagine that you would be terribly hard to turn.”
“You’d imagine right.”
“No. If we did this, it would be long-term. A business partnership. I’m not promising to love you or honor you—but I can promise until death do us part, in sickness and in health.”
Her pulse kicked hard in her neck. This was too much.
“How long do I have?”
“Twenty-four hours. After that, I start going to the bench. Not many women would turn this down. I don’t think it takes a day to find someone willing to do what needed to be done for the kind of money I’m offering.”