Beauty and the Billionaire

He waited until he was sure that I was done and he asked me whether I would rather have revenge on those kids now and feel good for a few hours or trick those guys into being my friends. That way, he said, I’d have protection from other bullies and I could slowly bleed them of their lunch money.

I didn’t really understand what he meant by the last part—partly because I stopped listening after he asked if I wanted revenge, and I immediately decided the answer was yes—but he heard me out as I described every violent thing I wanted him to do to those kids.

I told him that as my big brother, it was his responsibility to take out anyone who messed with me. He just let me talk myself out.

When I’d finally gotten it all out, he just took a breath and told me to let him try it his way for a week. If I didn’t like the way it was going, he’d “mess them up with a tree branch or something.” I don’t know why I remember the phrase so clearly.

I didn’t want to wait a week. I didn’t want to wait a day.

I wanted Chris to track them down right then and there, and I was ready to help him go through the phone book to do it, but something had happened in the time he was letting me go off. I wasn’t as angry.

My body was still beaten and sore, but even with that constant reminder of my desire for vengeance, I agreed to do things Chris’s way. All I had to do, he told me, was just act like me and the other guys were “cool” and he’d take care of the rest.

To this day, I don’t remember the names of any of those kids. I can barely remember what they looked like, but for one full week, they were my best friends in the world.

They bought my lunch and even brought snacks from home to share with me. They literally stood around me while I was playing at recess to make sure nobody messed with me and, a few days in, we even started playing together.

I still don’t know what Chris said to them or what kind of deal they’d struck, but for that one week, I felt like I was about the coolest kid in the school.

Of course, at the end of the week, whatever deal Chris had made with those kids expired and they went from being overly nice to ignoring me entirely. They never picked on me again or even showed any kind of interest in my direction at all.

That was the problem.

Instead of seeing how far he’d managed to turn things around, I just felt like he’d somehow cheated me out of my new friends. What can I say? I was in kindergarten.

I think that’s actually when I stopped looking at my brother as a hero and started looking at him the way that I do now. Thinking back over it that way, I feel guilty. He’d helped me in the best way he knew how to, but I couldn’t see past my own flawed understanding of what was going on.

Over the years, he started giving me real reasons not to trust him, so it just made sense to hang onto that impression.

There’s a knock on my door and at first, I ignore it. I don’t feel like getting out of bed. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I don’t feel like being me right now.

Another knock comes and I convince myself to get out of bed, though getting dressed and actually answering the door are still distant concepts.

A third series of knocks lands on the door and I slip on my bathrobe and drag myself out of my room. I open the front door.

“Hey,” Ash says. “Can I come in for a minute?”

“Sure,” I tell her. “Sorry it took me a minute to answer the door,” I start, but don’t bother with an excuse.

She comes in and sets her purse down on the coffee table. For a minute, I’m not sure what to expect, she’s so quiet. Either this is the calm before the storm that’s about to be directed toward me or she’s going to be all too willing to forgive, and I’m not sure that’s any better.

“You scared me last night,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry about—”

She holds up her hand and I stop. “Just let me say what I need to say, please,” she says. I nod. “You know that I’m not a fan of all the fighting,” she continues. “I’m going into nursing because I want to help people who are injured and you injure people semi-professionally.”

“I don’t know that it’s even that professional—” I start again, but stop on my own. It’s not going to make any difference and, what’s more, it’s not the point.

“What’s helped me work past that has been getting to know what a sweet, caring man you really are,” she says. “Until last night, you pretty well shattered most preconceived notions I’ve had about people who do what you do.”

She takes a breath. Her eyes move quickly from one of mine and then the other, searching for something. What, exactly, I don’t know.

“I know what happened to Chris really got to you,” she says. “I get that, I really do. He’s your brother, and that’s not going to change no matter what he’s done or where he is right now. That said, I am not going to be with someone who takes their anger out with violence.”

“That’s what I’ve always done, though,” I tell her, knowing the excuse to be thin. “Last night, things just got a little out of hand. It’s not going to happen again.”

“Things could have been a lot worse,” Ash agrees, “but that’s not because you stopped it. They had to pull you off—it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve come to a decision.”