Chapter 6
Jonathan
Why did I ever agree to come to this conference?
I sat in the front row of the Four Seasons’ ballroom and sighed as other software techies talked about their rise to fame and how they’d built their empires from the ground up. Normally, this type of thing would excite and inspire me, but all the techies this year were people I’d worked with before; I knew their success stories like the back of my hand.
The only thing different was the fact that I was the keynote speaker, and thousands of high school students were invited to come watch.
As the CEO of Apple, Inc. finished his speech, I clapped and made sure my speech was still in my breast pocket.
“And now,” the conference host said as he walked onstage, “for the final speech of the night. Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to introduce our keynote speaker. Over the past nine years, he has become a force to be reckoned with in the software industry—breaking almost every sales record when it comes to the latest technology. His latest product, the sPhone blue, is due to debut this spring and has already earned fifty million dollars in pre-order sales!”
The audience clapped and my face appeared on the massive projector screens that flanked the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the host continued, “a man who needs no further introduction—CEO of Statham Industries, Mr. Jonathan Statham!
I stood up and made my way onto the stage, nodding at the standing ovation, waiting for the crowd to sit back down.
“Thank you all very much for inviting me to the annual Innovative Technology Conference.” I pulled my speech out of my pocket. “It’s an honor to be here, and I’ll do my best not to bore you for the next twenty minutes.”
The audience laughed.
I read my speech off with ease, making eye contact with the people I knew in the crowd, bracing myself for the worst part of being the keynote speaker: the extensive Q&A session.
For three hours I answered questions that had nothing—absolutely nothing to do with Statham Industries: “Are you single?” “What do you look for in a woman?” “How often do you work out?” “When do you plan on getting married?”
What’s worse was that my colleagues were playing along with the students and acting like these questions were completely normal; they even asked me a few questions about women and dating themselves.
When the Q&A session was finally over, I attended a smaller meeting with the top students in the country. Gratefully, I engaged in conversations that were solely about computer development.
It was ten o’ clock by the time I finished, and I made a conscious effort to disappear for the rest of the night.
I rode the elevator to the penthouse suite and headed straight to my bed, walking past the custom living room and double kitchens. I took off my jacket and turned on the light.
“Took you long enough!” My friend Stacy rolled off the bed wearing a silky piece of black lingerie. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming!”
I completely forgot about this...
Stacy was an international supermodel who I’d met earlier in my career. Back then, she was only doing local magazines and commercials, but I took a huge risk and made her the national spokesperson for my company’s first laptop.
The campaign was an overnight success—launching her into superstardom. We tried to do the relationship thing soon after, but we realized that we were better off as friends—with benefits.
“I’ve got strawberry, pina colada, wild berry, and spicy cinnamon. I personally prefer the wild berry lube because it’s a lot smoother and doesn’t leave a weird aftertaste, but I figured I’d let you pick this time. Oh! And, guess what I also brought?” She pulled a silver packet from her bra. “Ultra-ribbed for his and her pleasure! Sexy, right?”
I collapsed into a chair and laughed. “Sounds great, but I don’t feel like it tonight.”
“Excuse me? You don’t feel like it tonight? This is the third time you’ve been in New York and you’re turning me down again?”
“If my memory serves me correctly, you turned me down the other two times.”
“Those don’t count. We were drunk and I don’t do smashed sex.” She walked over to me and pretended to check my forehead for a fever. “Wait a minute. Are you and Audrey back together?”
“No.”
“Okay...Did you recently come out of the closet or something? Are you gay?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh my god! It makes perfect sense! All these years! That’s the real reason you dumped Audrey isn’t it? And the fact that I’m standing here half-naked and you’re not even hard makes it even clearer! So, who’s the lucky guy?” She started putting her clothes back on.
“Stacy, I’m far from gay. Trust me. I just don’t feel like it.”
“Umm hmmm.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “Then what’s her name?”
“Her who?”
She rolled her eyes and pulled me out of my chair. “If we’re not going to do anything, the least you can do is buy me a round, a real round, and tell me who ruined my chance at good sex for tonight.”
I followed her onto the elevator, up to the rooftop bar, and ordered us a few glasses of stiff drinks.
Any other night, she and I would be back in my hotel suite, having sex on every single surface, filling each other in on the random things that had happened in our lives. We would be laughing at the things we didn’t understand about each other’s careers: I never understood why the fashion industry took itself so seriously, and she could never comprehend the excitement behind innovative technology.
But tonight, when I saw her standing half naked in my bedroom, the only thing I could think about was Claire and her smart ass mouth.
“You ever date a younger guy, Stacy?” I spooned a lemon slice from my vodka.
“Yeah. Twice.”
“What happened?”
“The first guy was twenty-one when I was twenty-six, and the second guy was twenty-three when I was twenty-eight. That’s what happened...How old is she?”
“She just turned forty this past Friday.”
“Wow...”
“Wow, what?”
“Nothing, I just—wow...I actually think the whole ‘older woman-younger guy’ thing is kind of hot. Since she’s older, maybe she’ll help you out with some of your bedroom techniques.”
“I’ve never gotten any complaints.”
“It was a joke, Jonathan.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, why do you care about her age?”
“I don’t. She does.”
Stacy nodded. “That’s understandable. Well, just show her that it doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s just sex right? I’m sure when you two are going at it, your age is the last thing on her mind so—”
“We haven’t had sex.”
“What?” She clutched her chest. “Jonathan Statham has detailed a woman’s car, given her thousands of dollars in flowers and jewelry, been out with her twice, and hasn’t had sex with her? Who are you?”
“First off, I’m not that insatiable. Second off, I do want to have sex with her but—why am I even discussing this with you?”
“You like her, don’t you?”
I sighed. I didn’t want to continue this conversation. “How does it feel to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated for the second year in a row? I liked the red bikini on you. It was different.”
“You should call her tonight. You don’t have to do the whole ‘wait a week’ thing with an older woman. She’ll just write you off as—”
“I am going to call her tonight.”
“Damn. It’s even worse than I thought.” She laughed. “Good for you though. Anyway, it’s time for more drinks. I need at least seven more.”
“Whatever you say.”
It took a lot more than seven for her to feel satisfied, and since she passed out in middle of drinking one, I had to carry her down to her room.