Her Dirty Billionaires

“Yes, but they don’t count.”

“That’s not fair. You just said they counted.”

Ava giggled as she took a sip of her coffee and the sound warmed my chest. Her smile lit up her bright hazel eyes, pulling from them yellow specks that reminded me of the sun. She was easy to talk to. Easy to banter back and forth with. It had been a long time since I enjoyed mindless conversation like this with someone.

And it had been even longer since I had been willing to open up about myself.

“What do you do for a living?” Ava asked.

“For now, I’m an investor of sorts. Until it’s time for me to take over the family business,” I said.

“Ah, so you have one of those, too.”

“One of those what?” I asked.

“Pesky family businesses. We have one of those. But I’m not allowed anywhere near it because I don’t have a penis.”

“Good piece of information to know,” I said.

“I don’t understand that. Why I can’t be a part of the family business because I’m a woman.”

“I don’t get it, either. It’s an archaic notion. Some of the world’s top companies were built and are currently run by women,” I said.

“I could do great things with that company if my father would just get out of my way,” she said.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about them.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, grinning.

“Right now, I’m living off the trust fund that opened up when I turned thirty. I worked for my family’s business all through college and set all of it aside in savings. But life happened and it threw me down a different path, so when my trust fund opened up I invested it wisely. I live off my savings and the quarterly dividends I get from some of the companies I’ve invested in,” I said.

“Sounds smart. You’re a smart man, Mr. Travis Benson,” she said. “I’d love to live like that. Off money I invested so I wouldn’t have to deal with people. You’ve got the life.”

“It was a very hard road getting here, so I wouldn’t be too envious of it,” I said.

“Why?” she asked.

I sighed as I looked up into Ava’s eyes.

“It just was,” I said.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” she said.

“Well, I don’t.”

“Okay.

What’s your favorite color?”

“What?” I asked.

“Your favorite color.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

“It doesn’t. It’s a change of subject. That’s what you wanted, right?” she asked.

I snickered and shook my head as I took another sip of my coffee.