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“If you’ll forgive my saying so,” Bill says, “that doesn’t sound like the Sloane I know.” He chuckles. “I remember in 1989 she told me that this ‘whole computing thing’ is never gonna take off.”
I snort a laugh.
“Right?” he says. “As far as I know, she’s stayed out of this sector. Personally I think out of spite at being wrong.”
“Now that sounds exactly like Mother,” I say. “I doubt you’re incorrect.”
“Well, Sloane has always been stubborn. One of those qualities that can be both admirable and incredibly frustrating.”
I blink and cock my head. “Do you know her well?” I ask.
“Oh we’re not terribly close, but we’ve been around the same circles for decades. And she’s been trying to get me to put my money in her bank for years.”
“Wait, a second,” I say. Oh shit. Bill… “You’re not Bill Alencar, are you?”
Bill laughs at my expression. “I have to admit, you gave my ego a check there. Typically I can’t go five feet at this thing without being swarmed by people.”
“I didn’t— I mean— I—” I’m not often at a loss for words, but the situation calls for it. I mean, what are the odds? I hope to god Liz never has the satisfaction of finding out about this.
And now I’m making a bad first impression. I compose myself enough to say, “I’ll be honest, unless you’re in motorsports, I probably don’t know who you are.”
“Not offended at all,” Bill says. “Like I said, it’s a bit of a relief. About now would be the time you’d be asking me if I could mentor you or invest in your startup, or something of the sort.”
“Sounds exhausting,” I say.
“You have no idea,” Bill replies. “All I ever wanted to do was code. And what have I been doing for the past thirty years? Managing money. Speaking at events. Running a company. Golf.” He fixes me in a piercing gaze. “Do you know how much I can’t stand golf?”
“I really only ever liked trying to tip the cart over.”
“A man after my own heart,” Bill says. He waves his hands as if batting away his own complaints. “Ah, I’m sorry. There’s nothing worse than a billionaire complaining about having too much money.”
“Well,” I say without thinking, “if you let me manage your money, you’d probably have a hell of a lot less of it.”
Bill cackles at the joke. “I’m going to tell your mother about that one next time she starts her next offensive.”
I cringe internally and hope it doesn’t show on my face. God, I hope Liz never finds out about that one. I am charming, goddammit! How am I fucking this up so badly?
Thankfully Bill doesn’t linger on it and gets sucked back up into the movie, filling me in on more than I ever knew was possible to know about the director, the actors, the script, and the cinematography.
“Wow,” I say at one point. “And I thought I was a fan of this movie.”
“Well, it’s not just Night of the Comet. I love all these old B-movies. When Marie and I were building the company, we lived behind an old theater. We saw everything that came out from about 1979 to 1990. Night of the Comet, Killer Klowns from Outer Space, Frankenhooker.”
“Wait, Frankenhooker?” I repeat.
He nods sagely. “Tagline — ‘A terrifying tale of sluts and bolts.’ Remember, Marie and I were computer kids in the ‘70s. That was the height of being a nerd. We were both into comic books, corny movies, Dungeons and Dragons. Our first date was to the fifth ever San Diego Comic Con. We didn’t have any money for costumes so we went as Brad and Janet from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Basically we just dressed up in our parents’ clothes!”
“I think I missed that one,” I say.
“Oh you’re missing out. See it in theaters, at midnight. The crowd goes crazy. We used to go all the time.”
I shift uncomfortably. There’s a notable sadness in his tone, and it’s not hard to imagine why. How long ago had they decided on a divorce? And how long was it before Mother found out and sent Liz and me to sink her talons into them?
“You’ve been together a long time, huh?” I venture.
He nods. “A long time… Are you married?” he asks me suddenly.
I shake my head.
