Score one for me.
As I thought she would be, Becki’s in the barn. She’s hard at work cleaning out a stall, scooping hay and clumps of brown stuff—you probably only need one guess to figure out what it is—into a wheelbarrow.
“Hey…” I warn her from a distance, so I don’t scare the life out of her.
She’s not wearing headphones or anything, so she turns immediately. She doesn’t jump, but my dick sure does when I catch sight of her ready smile.
“I made you this.” I hold out the wrap. “It’s from all your stuff and none of mine, so it’s safe.”
“Oh.” Becki looks puzzled. “Shoot. I lost track of time.”
I pass her the wrap, and after ripping off her gloves and wiping her hands on clothes dirtier than they are, Becki takes it. She bites into the wrap like she lost track of her own hunger too.
“Can I ask you something?”
I’m dressed in my oldest pair of jeans, a dark blue t-shirt because it’s probably the most stain-proof, and my set of shit-kicker boots. They’re about to get a downgrade to shit-shoveling boots right away. I lean against nothing but air, crossing my arms and rocking back on my heel. Becki doesn’t tell me to get to work since I’m obviously dressed to get dirty. She just nods.
“What keeps you going?”
“Whfmph shoo yoush meansfph?” Her mouth is totally full, and she gives zero fucks.
Normally, I’d find it utterly repulsive, but somehow, with Becki? With Becki, my dick is apparently the one who gives zero fucks, because it’s getting to the point of no return where— short of hitting it with something—I can’t get it to behave.
“I mean…I mean that…” Hmm. What do I mean? “I mean that you’re here all by yourself. You’re young. You can’t go on holidays, you probably don’t party, you likely can’t have much of a social life, and you don’t get to just have a night out when you want without a heck of a lot of planning. You also work super hard—hard enough to burn yourself out. And you do all your own social media, marketing, fundraising, and taxes—the whole bit. You also probably drive that big truck and trailer out there. You clean, you feed, you bed down. How do you do all of that? What keeps you going?”
“Did you say bed down? That’s awesome. You’re learning the lingo.”
“I might be, but seriously. I’d like to know.”
“Out of professional curiosity or because you want to know in some other capacity?”
“I don’t know what other capacities you’re referring to. A personal one? Well, I’m here, and I’m going to be helping you. I guess I’m just asking because I’m slightly concerned and also quite impressed.”
“You’re impressed?” Becki’s lips part. There’s a piece of lettuce caught between her top teeth. God, even that’s not a turn-off. Instead, a shiver of desire rolls through me. What the hell is happening to me?
“I am.”
“You’re not joking right now?”
“No, not joking,” I state, looking as stoic and serious as I can be.
“But you’re part of an empire that makes billions.”
“I might be, but I don’t do it alone. There are many, many people all over America and in other countries too that make it happen.”
“Well, yours is a much larger scale than this. It’s like trying to compare apples and oranges.”
“I think you’re purposely missing the point. I thought I worked hard until I came out here and saw you. No wonder my grandfather was so impressed. He built our current company—and when I say current, I mean the one I work at, not his other phantom companies I know nothing about—from the ground up, but he wasn’t alone. He eventually bought out his partners when they got old and wanted to retire, and it truly became a family thing.”
“He ran other companies too, though, so that makes him quite energetic. One person really can do a lot.”
“I know that. While I don’t know about the other companies yet—and I do intend to find out—I’ll bet he wasn’t alone. And he had the profits from his main company to help him. You’re not only working your bottom off, but you’re doing it with next to no money. None for yourself either.”
Becki lets out a snort and jams the rest of the wrap into her mouth. “Yeah, wllphf, shmoney shisn’t eberythingfh.”
“Just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I have that mentality.”
“I know.” Becki swallows and wipes her mouth with two fingers.
“I’m worried you’ll burn out. Aren’t you?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Ask me when I get there.” Her broad grin tells me she’s not offended at my overly direct questions. I have to say, I’m concerned for her, especially since she’s not concerned for herself. I really don’t know how one human can do all of this.
“Have you ever thought about writing a book? You already blog, so it would be the natural next step. Or taking those videos you make and really putting them out there for people to see? I think you’d get a lot of views, more if you included your life in it.”