One More Time

“No, something that's actually impossible,” he said, pressing the accelerator and shooting through the intersection once the light changed from red to green. “It's something that isn't just up to me, but my entire future rests upon it. If I don't do as my father says, I lose everything. I'll have to find a regular job, get some shitty apartment somewhere, and actually live like those ‘normal people’ you talk about.”

“Oh, poor you.” I wiped away fake tears from my eyes. “I'm sure you'll still have a contingency plan, plus your Stanford education, to back you up. Most of us don't even have that.”

“You're right,” he sighed. “This entire time, I thought I had it bad. But, you're right. I was being a snooty prick. You've made me understand that I'll still be okay, even if I can't complete this ridiculous task. It's just – ”

He looked over at me, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to keep talking and trust me enough to open up to me. That, of course, only deepened my curiosity. What deep dark secrets could rich boy Malcolm Crane be locking away in the bowels of his heart? What horrendously impossible task could daddy dearest possibly be requiring of him?

Honestly, I was surprised he'd told me as much and opened up as far as he had. It seemed to be pretty personal information for him to just rattle on and on about. I wasn't going to lie though, I was fascinated.

With a small nod to himself, he continued speaking – much to my surprise.

“I've worked so hard my entire life. I did everything required of me as I got myself ready to take over my father's company. This has been my entire life's purpose for as long as I can remember, I'm not sure what I'd do without it,” he said. “But, it's more than that. I don't want to disappoint my father. This is his dying wish, and I don't want to fail him. I'm afraid that I'm going to though. I don't see any way to avoid it.”

“What's his wish?”

Malcolm tensed up, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands as he stared straight ahead. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. I was treading in some very dangerous, personal ground and I could feel Malcolm starting to withdraw.

“Oh, so now you're going to clam up on me? No fair,” I said.

I turned and looked out the window, watching the streets of Hollywood passing us by. The homeless people sleeping on the streets and in doorways. As bad as things sucked, at least I had a bed to go home to; for now anyway. “It's very personal,” he said.

“And telling me your lifelong dream and your desire to not let your father down isn't?” I said.

I turned back to him and could see the way his eyes were focused on the road. He was deep in thought. Even still, he looked so handsome and sexy. Malcolm had leading man good looks and could have been a star if he'd pursued acting. He looked almost too good to be real. I yearned to reach out and touch him, just to make sure this wasn't all a dream. But, I didn't. I just stared until he caught me looking – and then turned away, thankful the darkness of the car's interior hid the fact that my face was turning a shade of red not found in nature.

“It's just that – it's stupid and crazy, but I was thinking maybe you could help me with what I need to do,” he said. “I'm just not sur

e how to ask. It would be a win-win for both of us.”

“Us?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You just lost your job, and I'd be willing to pay for your help. I'd pay you very well, in fact.”

That piqued my interest, though there was a nervous flutter in my belly. What could he possibly be wanting to ask me to do that he would pay me “very well” for?

“Go on,” I said, my voice a little uneasy.

“Well, see – my father only has nine months to a year until his mind starts going. He'll be dead within two years, apparently,” he said. “And his last wish – his last requirement for me to receive my inheritance, actually, is –”

Malcolm hesitated as the GPS spoke up, telling us both that we were approaching our destination.

“You can park here,” I said. “My apartment is right over there.”

Malcolm pulled to the curb and stopped, shutting the engine off and started to get out of the car.

“No, you don't need to walk me in,” I said.

“I know I don't have to, but –”

“Seriously, no. You'll come back to find all your tires missing and your windows broken,” I said. “Just – trust me, okay?”

The real reason I didn't want Malcolm walking me in was my dad. I couldn't let Malcolm meet him. The humiliation of it would kill me, for sure. I stared down at my hands, hoping Malcolm would continue with what he was saying. But he fell silent, so I urged him along.

“So, anyway, what were you talking about before?” I asked. “About me helping you?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “That.”

I could tell he was nervous – which wasn't an emotion I'd commonly associate with him. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before continuing.