Gifted Grifter Ch 14

Chapter 14: Passing the Torch

One day Julie was playing around on MySpace. She was doing me a favor, checking all of the pages I had made for myself and every pseudonym I had lived under when I was living the life of the gambler; I wasn't very good about keeping up on them myself. That was much more Julie's thing—a reflection, perhaps, of the age/generation gap between us.

On my personal page (that is, the one in my real name) Julie noticed that I had gotten a bunch of messages from a girl named Jessie. Not long ago, a girl leaving a lot of messages for me might have led to a suspicious interrogation about who this Jessie was and why she was trying to reach me. But with Julie now wearing a $50,000 Tiffany engagement ring on her finger, it was now just a point of curiosity.

I told her who it was anyway. "Jessie?" I asked. "She was my old graduate assistant at DoD. Twice now I've gone out of my way to help her get her dissertation done. Don't tell me she's screwed it up again somehow?"

"No, doesn't sound like it," Julie chuckled, "sounds like she's relaying a message on behalf of another student who wants to get in touch with you."

"Oh? When last I saw her, she told me there was a new student in her program that was very interested in my work," I said.

"Hmm," she replied, "then this could be a problem. This is what she says: 'He said to tell you that he found something interesting in your old DoD files and he wants to meet you to discuss it."

"Oh shit, that could be a major problem," I said. "You're not allowed to delete your files at DoD; there's a lot of stuff there that led up to my discovery of the mindreader. I suppose someone might have been able to use that to retrace my steps."

"So what do you want to do?" she asked.

"Reply to Jessie. Tell her to extend an invitation to meet me at a coffee shop here in New York—if he really wants to meet me, he'll figure out a way to get here."

"And then what?" Julie asked as she was typing the response.

"I'll meet him wearing my mindreader," I explained. "If he's indeed made one of his own, I'll get feedback as soon as I look at him. But if that's why he wants to meet me, I'm sure he has lots of questions for me and won't turn his off. So we'll set you up in a corner with your mindreader on. That way, while he's picking my brain, you can pick his and get a read on what we're dealing with." I said.

"Too bad there isn't some way to block a mindreader," she said.

"Actually, any other magnetic field will cause interference, even another person's brain too close by," I said, "but I don't have time to design a practical device to do that. Besides, if he's got his own mindreader, he will already know the only secret I have that needs keeping; he can find out anything else he likes. And if he hasn't—well, then he won't find it out, now will he?"

"So why do you want to meet him?" Julie asked, sending the reply then getting up from the laptop and putting her arms gently around me, sensing my increased anxiety.

"If he's got a mindreader, I want him to understand why I've kept it secret. I feel the need to at least try to convince him to do the same," I said. I explained my concern about not trusting and government with it and its potential to upset the world order. I had already told Julie about how I had used the mindreader as a tool of seduction; I hadn't ever explained that I had other, more noble reasons for maintaining the secrecy of my discovery.

"But you trusted me with it," she said, deep blue eyes piercing me with their gaze.

"I trust you with everything, my love," I said, "that's why I'm marrying you." We kissed...

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We received a reply in less than 24 hours, and set up a meeting that Saturday. On the day of the meeting, Julie camped out in a corner of the designated coffee shop twenty minutes before I came in. It was about ten minutes after that that a young man in a baseball hat came in and started looking around. He was probably in his mid-20s, sandy hair, average height, average build—nothing particularly remarkable about him. But as soon as we locked gazes, everything went gray and a massive headache set in. Knowing this could happen, I had one hand gripped on my glasses, and was able to pull them off my face and break the feedback before total stasis had set in. He had indeed created a mindreader of his own.

If he had planned ahead what to say, the unexpected feedback loop had caught him off guard. I waved him over to join me; he came over to my table, looking shaken and confused. I stood up to shake his hand, saying "You must be ----, and I see that you've recreated my....invention."

"What the hell just happened?" he asked.

"Feedback loop," I explained. "Just like a misplaced microphone at a rock concert. You can't point two devices at each other."

"Good to know," he replied.

As I predicted, he wasn't willing to turn off his mindreader, meaning I couldn't use mine. As a good-will gesture (and knowing he would find out anyway) I told him that Julie was reading his mind from the corner. Unfortunately he made a comment about her, so I my thoughts betrayed more than I wanted to about her former life as a high-price call girl—as well as any number of enticing memories her name conjured up.

He asked me about why I kept my invention a secret. That's what I had hoped to talk about; he could see all of my concerns about governments and selling to the highest bidder and possibly creating a megalomaniac dictator. This was the kind of thing science fiction was made of.

He asked why I had given one to my fiancée. That led me to thinking about my life as the Gifted Grifter, as well as to my new life as day trader, responsible citizen and soon to be married man. It seemed like he got a gleam in his eye once he read those thoughts. The rest of our conversation centered on how I had lived as the Gifted Grifter: how I had made money, and especially how I used it to seduce women. In the process I thought about a number of women I had used it on, including Erin the real estate agent and Jessie. Poor Jessie—something told me that this punk was going to be making a beeline to her neck, and from what I'd seen that would all but guaranteed that he would score with her. I wished I could warn her, but I of course I couldn't do that without revealing my secret.

Even without my glasses, I was pretty sure that he was busily plotting how he would follow in the seduction footsteps of the Gifted Grifter. Well, I sure wasn't going to be fighting him for girls—I had the only one I wanted locked up for the long term. I would much rather he use the mindreader to be a womanizing lout, as I had been, than to overturn the entire balance of world power. In fact, he did one better; he promised that before he turned in his resignation, he would "update" my DoD files with false information to ensure that there would be no more Grifters recreating my invention. The society of mindreaders would have a standing population of three. It was a great idea, and I was disappointed that I hadn't thought of that myself.

Having picked my brain for much more than he bargained for, he took his leave. The torch had been passed—while I was getting married and grifting no more, he was just getting started. And something told me he would keep carrying that torch for a long, long time.

He gave a little wave to Julie as he headed out the door. After he was gone, Julie and I both got up to leave and met by the door.

"I hate guys like that," she said.

"Like what?" I asked.

"He's on some sort of mission to have sex with as many women as possible, and he doesn't care how much he has to lie or manipulate our feelings to get what he wants," she explained. "When he saw how you used the mindreader to seduce women, it was like Willy Wonka giving away the key to the factory: he can't wait to taste everything he can get his hands on. With that mindreader, he's a menace to every woman on the planet."

"Yeah, I kind of guessed some of that—but he still can't force women to do things, he can only deceive them," I said. "I'm going to guess that's status quo for him—only now he's going to be a lot more effective at it."

"Makes me sick," she said.

"I know, but on the other hand, we seem to have convinced him not to tell the government or sell the device—is that what you saw in his thoughts?" We were now heading down Broadway to our apartment.

"Yeah—I suppose if he wasn't so intent on extracting some weird sort of sexual revenge on women, he might not have seen the importance of keeping the secret," she conceded.

"I know, I don't feel good about it either," I said, stopping her and facing her there on the sidewalk, holding hands. "But we didn't give it to him; he got it on his own. We have no control over what he does with it. And while I feel bad about the women he's going to hurt, he would be hurting a lot more people if he started manufacturing them and selling them to the highest bidder. And besides...I know one woman he's not going to hurt." I put my arms around her waist and kissed her.

She put her arms on my shoulders, smiled, flashed her lovely large eyes at me, and said. "No, darling, you're the only man in my life, now and forever more."

"I love you Julie," I said.

"I love you," she replied, and we kissed lovingly.

"Get a room," said a typical New York passer-by. We laughed and continued on our way. A stop at the health club to fish for stock tips, then we had an even more important visitor to meet at the airport.

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"Now announcing the arrival of flight 1441 with service from Oklahoma City," a loudspeaker crackled.

"Should only be a few minutes now," Julie said. I had never seen her so nervous; usually she was calm, cool, collected and in-control. Aunt Betty had been the saving grace of her childhood, her rock of sanity in an otherwise awful, abusive family situation. Julie hadn't seen her since she ran away, at age 18; she had been too ashamed of her life as a sex worker to face beloved Aunt Betty. But I had encouraged her to re-establish contact, guessing correctly that Aunt Betty wouldn't care what Julie had or hadn't done. Julie had promised to fly Aunt Betty out to New York to visit us once we were sufficiently established—and today, here she was. We were living in an upscale west side neighborhood, well on our way to having a million dollars in after-tax profits in the bank—and getting married in a few months. Aunt Betty didn't know it yet, but Julie wanted her to be the maid of honor.

I heard Julie cry out "Aunt Betty" and go rushing towards someone in the throng coming out of the secure area of LaGuardia. I had never asked, but it was immediately clear that Aunt Betty came from her mother's side of the family. She was probably 50, but still attractive in a mature sort of way. She had the same blonde hair, albeit bound tightly around her head; the same cheekbones and delicate nose; and had the same slim shapeliness that both Julie and her mother had.

Julie and Aunt Betty hugged each other tight, but were quickly made aware that they were impeding the flow of passengers out of the terminal. Julie put her arm around her Aunt and guided her towards me and out of the way. I was struck by the contrast in dress; Aunt Betty looked very Oklahoma, wearing a white, mid-calf-length dress with colorful flowers on it and white flat shoes. Julie had taken to her new home like a duck to water and now was dressed very New York, in a black mid-thigh length skirt, white tailored blouse, black pumps, and a well-tailored raincoat that was just the right length for her dress. It didn't hurt that she was now able to go shopping on 5th Avenue and not worry about price—she had the money, and her fiancée didn't care how much of it she spent. So what if Julie's blouse cost more than Aunt Betty's airfare? Money spent on things that made Julie look good was money well spent as far as I was concerned.

Julie walked Aunt Betty over to me and proudly introduced me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Aunt Betty, I've heard so many good thing about you," I said sincerely, reaching out to shake the hand of the woman whose steadying influence made it possible for Julie to be such an important part of my life.

She didn't take my hand, but instead held her arms open, saying, "Now, you're going to be family, so none of this formal stuff. Give Aunt Betty a hug." I did. She hugged with sincerity.

"Here, let us help you with your bags," Julie said, reaching to relieve her aunt of her carry-on. As she did, Aunt Betty first caught sight of Julie's ring.

"Oh my word...." Aunt Betty said, intercepting and holding Julie's hand to inspect it. "Is that a diamond, child, or a baseball? I have NEVER seen a stone that large—not even in costume jewelry! Tell me the truth, now, that's not a real diamond, is it?" Julie was smiling, but also faintly embarrassed at the ostentatious display of prosperity.

"Tiffany's finest," I interjected, "Julie deserves nothing less. I'd have bought her a bigger one, but they didn't look as nice on her finger."

"Oh, Julie, I'm so happy for you," she said, hugging her close again. "I worried so much about you all those years. And now you're here, obviously doing well...and you're getting MARRIED."

When Aunt Betty's hug ended, she slid over and wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing me and laying her head down on my shoulder. "Well, this last year or so has easily been the best my life has ever been." She looked up at me to give me a quick kiss. "But come on, we've got a whole city to see. Let's go pick up your luggage."

I stayed behind, carrying the luggage, letting Aunt Betty and Julie catch up. Figuring we would be wanting to show her aunt the sights, I had rented a car for the weekend—a big black Mercedes. Aunt Betty had never been in one before.

"Its just a rental," Julie explained, "we thought it would make it easier to show you around town. Where we live anything we need is walking distance, and anything else is easily reached by subway. You'll have to wait and see—it's a lot different here than it is in Oklahoma."

As I drove, Aunt Betty said, "So, Mr. Grifter, what exactly do you do that you can afford to buy all these nice things for my dear niece?"

Julie cleverly stretched the truth, saying "he used to be a defense contractor, but now we make a living stock trading."

"Isn't that risky," Aunt Betty asked, "Couldn't you lose everything you have in a very short time?" Aunt Betty was still looking out for Julie.

Julie answered for me "he's found a secret system, and we make money on well over 90% of our trades."

"We've brought in about $100,000 just this month," I added, "thanks in large part to Julie here. She's the best researcher there is."

Aunt Betty was even more proud of Julie when she learned that she was helping earn these fabulous sums of money.

"Actually, we share information, but Julie and I each do our own trading. Half of everything we make is hers, free and clear." Aunt Betty was really impressed with her niece now. Julie downplayed it, but I could tell it made her feel good to impress Aunt Betty.

The three of us went to a French restaurant we liked; Aunt Betty almost wouldn't eat because she couldn't get over the prices. Welcome to New York, Auntie. After dinner, we went to see the city from the top of the Rockefeller Center, then strolled around the edges of Central Park. At one point Julie left us to use the restroom.

"Thank you," I said to Aunt Betty.

"For what?" she asked.

"For having been there for Julie all those years. She would have never made it without you, and if she hadn't she wouldn't be the light my life today," I said.

"On the contrary—thank YOU," she said. "Julie has had some hard times—I heard some terrible rumors about what she was doing after she ran away..."

"It doesn't matter what she did or didn't do," I said, "all that matters is what she's doing now."

"I agree completely," she said, "and that was my point—I've never known Julie to be as happy as I see her today. I'm sure that that's all on account of you. So thank you for finally giving my favorite niece something to be happy about."

"Well, I appreciate the thought, but I can't accept any credit," I said, "because I've never been so happy either. You might say I'm being selfish, really."

"No, sir," she said, "I believe that when two people are never happier than when they are together, that's love. I was concerned when I heard that she was living with an older man in New York... she's had a lot of terrible things happen to her, and she doesn't have a lot of experience with love. I was afraid she was being taken advantage of. But I am glad to see that I was wrong—you two really are in love. And you're even that much older, really—I was afraid she was living with someone old like me." Julie was now walking back towards us. "It does my heart good to see Julie like this." Julie slowed up; we were both looking at her and smiling, so it was pretty clear that we had been talking about her.

Aunt Betty broke the apprehension. "My little niece, all grown up and getting married," she said, holding out her arms. "I'm so happy for you, child. Come here and give your Auntie a hug."

Julie smiled with relief and complied.

"So, do you have a date yet? And where will the wedding be?" she asked.

"We were thinking of having the wedding in Las Vegas," Julie began as we resumed our stroll.

"Las Vegas?" Aunt Betty interrupted, "in my day, only people that had to get married went there."

"No, it's not like that anymore," Julie smirked, "we were thinking of the Venetian, which is really quite fancy. We aren't going to have a very large wedding, and..."

"Not a large wedding? How many bridesmaids?" Betty asked.

"Just one couple probably, plus the best man and matron of honor," Julie said.

"Really? And who will be the matron of honor?" she said, asking the $64,000 question.

Julie stopped, turned towards Aunt Betty, held her hands and said, "Aunt Betty, I want you to be the matron of honor."

That caught Aunt Betty completely by surprise. "Me? Oh child, I'm flattered, but surely you have some friends who would be a better matron of honor."

I stepped in to help. Truth is, we didn't really have good friends that we could ask; given our recent lines of work, we had some acquaintances, but our only real friends were each other. "The matron of honor should be the person who is most dear to the bride in the whole world. Its true that most often that's a longtime friend, but I think I speak for Julie when I say that there's no one who has meant more to her, for a longer time, than you."

Aunt Betty looked Julie in the eye and could see that she was a completely serious, and a little afraid that she might refuse. "A bride should get whatever she wants on her wedding day," she said finally, "and if that's what my favorite niece wants, who am I so say no?"

Julie was immensely relieved, and hugged Aunt Betty. "Now, please do keep in mind that I am an old woman when you pick out the dresses," she fretted.

"I'm not going to worry about matching dresses, so you can have any dress you want—we're leaving that choice up to you. Tomorrow, we're taking you shopping on Fifth Avenue so you can pick one out," Julie told her.

"Don't worry about the price, we're buying the dress," I added. "In fact, because the wedding isn't going to be very big, we're going to pay for everything for the entire party: airfare, hotel, meals, you name it."

"Now, that's not right," Betty said, "the bride isn't supposed to be paying everyone's expenses to attend the wedding!"

"We don't want cost to be a reason why anyone can't attend," I said, "especially when we can easily afford it."

"All you need to do is find a dress—and help me find one, too," Julie added.