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disappear.”
    “Maybe, but that’s why I made some calls.”
    “To who?”
    “Hear me out before you say no,” Christopher said.
    “Whenever you say that I’ve learned to say no.”
    “There’s this guy whose blog I found. Taylor Hamilton. You ever heard of him?”
    “No.”
    “He’s like some oil billionaire. Obsessed with these things. I emailed him and then we talked yesterday.”
    “And?”
    “And he wants in.”
    “In on what, Chris? We’re not doing anything.”
    “I was really vague about where we were and all that. He says if we bring him in and share the credit, he’ll fund everything. And we’ll get just as much press. He says if we can capture one it’s a guaranteed book deal, maybe even a movie.”
    “Not interested.”
    Christopher mumbled something about pigheadedness and then got up to leave. He turned before leaving and said, “You and I both know your father controls you through his money. You’re going to need a lot of money for your life and you got no way to get it. This is your chance to get out from under him. Or you can fly back and beg his forgiveness and hope he gives you a job at the company. Your choice.”

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8

    Vanessa Kolkowski sat in a deck chair on the yacht and sipped a martini. The party had been going for over three hours and everyone was getting trashed. Her mother—who had forced her to come to this company retreat—was taking tequila shots with her boss, Anderson.
    Anderson had a belly and was balding with fat white forearms that made Vanessa sick. He was nothing compared to her father and she didn’t understand how her mother could go from a man like him to Anderson. The divorce only went through two months ago; maybe she was on the rebound?
    “Hi,” a man said as he came and sat next to her. He was older by at least twenty years and Vanessa had seen him with his wife earlier; before she grew sea-sick and went to lie down in a cabin.
    “Hi,” she said, looking in the opposite direction.
    “So I haven’t seen you before. Don’t tell me; you’re with accounting? Cause I know everybody and I don’t know you. I never get down to accounting.”
    “No, my mom works for the company.”
    “Oh yeah? Who’s your mom?”
    “Pam Kolkowski.”
    “Pam’s your mom?” The man looked over to Pam. “Oh.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    “She your boss or something?”
    “Well, not exactly. She’s . . . I mean. Yeah, yeah she’s my boss.”
    “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her you were hitting on me. I won’t tell your wife either.”
    The man thought for a while and then stood up without a word and walked away. It put a smile on Vanessa’s face. Men had been paying attention to her from an early age, far younger than she could remember. Her mother had gotten her into modeling and she was used to having all eyes on her. But sometimes it depressed her. Men that barely knew her would tell her they would leave wives and children they had been with for years for her. She didn’t intend on getting married for that reason; men just couldn’t be trusted.
    She finished her drink and stood up. Looking around the deck at the employees mingling with management and kissing their asses made her nauseated. That was one thing her mother did give her through her modeling: freedom from a boss. Photographers could sometimes be just as demanding but her agent could deal with them if they got out of hand.
    Vanessa walked over to her mother. Her face was flushed from the alcohol and Vanessa could tell she would be too drunk to drive back to the hotel when they got to shore.
    “I’m going to bed,” Vanessa said.
    “Already? Stay and have some fun.”
    “I’m really tired. I’m just going to go to sleep.”
    Anderson, after staring at her boobs the whole time, said, “My cabin’s below deck and there shouldn’t be anyone there. You could use that.”
    “Thanks.”
    She walked off and glanced back once to see her mom running her tongue along Anderson’s fat