Money - Hers

This story is pure fiction. I know of no families Fontaine or Fitzgerald, rich or poor. All characters are fictional, and none engage in any sexual activity until after their eighteenth birthday (and said sex is not described in this story either, sorry.)

This is one of two stories about the wealthy and their problems with fidelity and marriage. The first was about

his

money. The focus of this one is

her

money.

The first tale was easy, when you have access to money AND a betrayal, revenge is a no brainer. This story is the reverse, she has the money and is the betrayer - surely, that must lead to a different outcome. If you demand a BTB ending, hit the back button now.

As always, I appreciate comments, good or bad, but tend to laugh at those who tell me how bad my writing is - but take the time to read and comment.

I did receive a comment on the first story that I knew nothing of how billionaires live. While not a particularly insightful comment, it was none-the-less quite accurate. Now, several weeks later, I still know nothing about such living. In case you are reading this story to seek financial wisdom, you've been warned.

I hope you enjoy.

Money - Hers

My name is Jacob Thomas, and this story is about me, my wife Bitsy, and several hundreds of million dollars.

<<<<>>>>

I looked at my watch. It was on the table beside my favorite chair; 12;25 pm. The watch was on the table because at 1:00 pm, someone will show up to tell me it is time for me to go. I'll be allowed to take, well, nothing with me.

These last weeks it's been a battle of wills, our love affair - thinking back, I should have known.

We were in Freshman English together, though we never really met. The professor announced to the class that I had gotten the high score on the mid-term. After class, this gorgeous blond came up to me and told me she had the second highest score - and she was not happy about that.

I had seen her many times. First, she was a stunner. Not only beautiful, but elegant, dressed well - someone who stood out in a crowd.

And

she had a host of minions (more about them as we go). The entourage would have drawn my attention, no matter to whom they showed loyalty. Who has lackies in college?

You see, she was Bitsy or Elizabeth Fitzgerald Fontaine. Her father is the patriarch of THE Fontaines, yes, the multi-billionaires. Her mother is Margaret (Muffin to her family, though she prefers Muffy) Fitzgerald - of the oil baron Fitzgeralds.

We were in college with the same single-minded goals, but vastly different support systems. I had a good scholarship, a student loan, and a lot of my own hard work. She had a room full of money from her family.

We met (I'm not counting the 20-second encounter the previous year) the first semester of our sophomore year in American Literature. She surprised me. She knew and remembered me.

"Jake, you really know your stuff."

That struck me as odd, no hi, no greeting of any kind, what do I say? I chose, "Excuse me, do I know you?"

"Bitsy Fontaine" - she paused like I would recognize the name.

While I did, I saw no reason to bend and kiss her ring, if that is what you do with American nobility, "Oh, I see, should that mean something?"

She looked flummoxed, like what kind of dumbass wouldn't know Bitsy Fontaine. "No, I suspect not. Listen, there is a project in this class, to compare and contrast two novels of our choosing."

I didn't like her preselection of me, so, "Our choosing? You speak as though we are partners or will be. And how do you know what this course contains."

"Jake, I have resources. I don't compete like others. My people gather facts for me. Trust me. It will be to your advantage to be my partner."

"Well, if that's true and if there is an assignment, and we have a chance to join up, I am sure we will." I turned and walked away.

She told me later, she was dumbfounded. Nobody put her off. Not ever.

Sure enough, the professor was in the process of announcing we would need to select partners for a project. Bitsy interrupted and said she had chosen hers. The professor laughed and said, "Ms. Fontaine, that does not surprise me, but let's let this play out with the whole class and you can tell me who your partner is on Friday."

"I'd just as soon..." she continued.

"On Friday." The professor ended the discussion.

When class ended I was approached by several, but I was intrigued by Ms. Fontaine and her entourage of associates. Remembering her offer I asked, "Would you still like to partner with me?"

"Like you have a choice."

I turned and started talking with one of those who'd approached me. Bitsy was right behind me apologizing, "Oh, Jake, I am so sorry. I don't know why I get like that. I'll admit I am spoiled, sometimes I forget I am not the center of the universe. Please, forgive my rudeness."

I held up a finger, letting her know I was in another conversation. I agreed to be partners with the guy to whom I was speaking, then turned back to Bitsy.

She started again, "I am so sorry, that was rude. Forgive me?"

"Certainly; already forgotten."

"Then we are partners?"

"No, I accepted another offer, sorry." I walked away, briskly; no reason to debate.

The next day, I was approached by my partner. "Uh, Jake, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"I decided to go with another partner. I hope you can still find one." He said it and looked like he wanted to say more.

"I see, how much did she pay?"

He got this big grin, "I have no idea about what you are speaking. I am a poor college student with only a little over a thousand dollars to my name."

"A thousand dollars, let me ask you this, if I asked if Bitsy offered you money to ..."

"No one offered me anything, and I trust you'll quote me on that."

I smiled. Nodding my understanding.

Well shit, this is a bad precedent. On the other hand, I did make a total stranger a grand, there is good in that. Not my circus, not my monkeys - I'll wait and see what her next move is.

Friday rolled around and I had heard nothing. Class started and the professor asked how many people had partners. Nearly every hand went up, which caused him to smile, "Good, let me ask the other way; who doesn't have a partner?" My hand was the only one to go up. The professor looked around, spotted Bitsy, and asked, "Ms. Fontaine, it would appear this gentleman does not have a partner - would you care to partner with him?"

"Sure!" she said, brightly. I wondered if she'd paid everyone else off. The professor looked at me, I swear I wanted to say, is there another choice? But, instead, "Sure." In as flat a tone as I could muster.

After class, she said, "I'm sorry to have caused the false start, at least it all worked out."

"Worked out? I'll bet things tend to do that, for you," I said. I decided any discussion would just lead to her telling me things I didn't want to hear.

<<<<>>>>

"I can't believe it!" We are getting along so well; my outburst shocked her.

"What? You can't believe what?" She almost had an aura of panic.

"You are incredible. We had this horrendous start and I thought you'd be entirely different. You listen to what I say, question me from your intellect, not from your power. I never would have believed we could be a good team, but we are - hell, we are a wonderful team."

She beamed, "Why, thank you, kind sir, I like collaborating with you. Everyone else is afraid of me, defers to me."

I laughed in her face, "Gee Bitsy, why do you think that is?"

She had to laugh, too. "Well, just because I have some help to stack the deck in my favor, doesn't mean..."

I cut her off, "You know better, but it's okay, you don't intimidate me. We know, however, on purpose of this whole entourage thing is to scare the socks off anyone who wants to challenge you."

"Why aren't you scared?"

Her question was curious; she wanted to know. "Bitsy, I am here because of me. I worked to get scholarships, have a job, and am driven to succeed. It is okay with me if you succeed, too. But that has nothing to do with me."

"Oh, but it does. Life is a zero-sum game." She said it, but I saw it in her eyes, she wondered.

"No, it is not. So many times, things are win-win. In fact, often, if you look for the take-down instead of the mutual gain, too much is lost." I paused, she was mulling what I said, looking troubled.

"That's not what my family would say."

"Bitsy, they are rich, not infallible." She smiled, seeming to buy it. I decided to switch gears. "I would love to really know you; would you go out with me?"

She got this worried look. Shit, maybe I misjudged her.

She saw my expression change, "Oh, pardon me, of course I'd love to go out with you. But I was thinking. Would you mind if I paid for our dates?"

"Why would I mind?"

"Jake, I want to get to know you, too. But if I am going to give you a real shot, we need to do things I like to do. Speaking frankly, you can't afford that."

It is strange to hear someone just come out and say I can't afford her, "What are we talking?"

"Well, our first date should be memorable. I say we drive into the city and go to the French restaurant - Tour Doree. Do you like French food?"

I snorted, "I like French fries, does that count?"

She laughed, then shook her head. "Jake, if we can be more than friends, we are both going to need to change. Hopefully, that change won't be something that is not in us, but it is going to be a big deal.

"For instance, Tour Doree, the golden tower, is a play on the restaurant, Tour D 'Argent, the silver tower, in Paris. Tour D 'Argent was the best restaurant in the world for five or six centuries. Our dinner, with wine, will be around $2,000."

"Bitsy, not to burst your bubble, but we're 19, we can't order wine."

"We can't buy swill in a liquor store. But if we order a Chateau Margaux Classe Grand Cru, for $1,500, in a restaurant, they tend not to get hung up on the formalities."

I looked at her. I really could not think of what I wanted to say. I didn't have $1,500 to throw around in a month, even in a semester.

"Jake, talk to me."

"I am stuck. I know you're not trying to impress me. But that is a lot to take in, for some reason. It's not that you can spend that kind of money, it is more that the money means so little."

She nodded, "It does mean little; maybe nothing. On the other hand, I am used to doing what the money enables me to do. On my 16

th

birthday, Mom, Dad, and I flew to Paris. We stayed in a suite at The Ritz. We went to the Louvre, Les Orangeries, and had dinner at Tour D' Argent."

I tried to give a fact in contrast, "My mom and stepdad agreed to pay for my car insurance while I lived at home. And I thought that was a great present."

"Jake, it was a great present. My purpose is not to criticize, I don't want to brag, I want to help us understand how different our lives are. Your parents are not less generous than mine, and they don't have the same means to express their generosity. Think about it. Your parents probably had to sacrifice to pay for that insurance; my folks made no sacrifice - but, like yours, they found a way to make a day memorable, for me."

<<<<>>>>

We were on our way back to college-town, in her limo. I was flabbergasted. I had ordered an $1,800 bottle of wine; she had taught me how to taste it when the sommelier gave it to me. I ate escargot and pressed duck. I even learned to raise my hand and say l'addition sil vous plait, even though I couldn't have even financed the meal.

"Thank you, Jake, that was wonderful."

"Wait a minute, Bitsy, you paid for everything. Why are you thanking me?"

"Jake, I sacrificed nothing. You had to learn to be in a situation you knew nothing about, and you did it so well. I appreciate you made my evening a memorable one."

"You know, this is my first time in a limo." I said to her.

"First time in a limo - that has a nice ring to it." She said with an evil grin.

Her meaning was clear enough for me, so I turned toward her and started to draw her my way.

"Slow down there, Tiger, not on a first date. But keep that thought in mind - I've always wanted to make love in this seat."

Keep it in mind - I did - and we did. It was intoxicating. I was not just dating but learning the good life, simultaneously. I mean the

good

life.

<<<<>>>>

"What on earth is this?" I was looking at a computer screen which showed names and book titles for all our classmates.

"Oh, I had my team gather all they could on what the competition is doing. We can use that..."

"Why on earth would we use that?"

"Jake, I want our paper to be the best."

"So, do I and I am confident if we give it all we have, it will be."

"Probably, but why not be sure?"

"Because it's a bad habit. Because it shows self-doubt. Because..."

"Jake, I do not compete like everyone else. I leave nothing to chance."

"Well, I don't agree. If you are going to look at what the competition is turning out and up it 20% to assure we win, you sell us short. I will not participate...."

"Yes, you will."

I wasn't going to argue. I wasn't going to give in. We had been on five dates and were now intimate. Her paying was not an issue; but this zero-sum, one winner, by any means was not going to fly. I decided to write my own analysis. We continued to work together and talk about our assignment, but I would not look at what she had written, nor she at what I wrote.

The due date came, I turned in our paper, with both names. Though she had not written any of it, what I wrote came from our work, together.

The professor called us into his office after the next class, "I have two submissions both claim to be from you two. Which do you wish to turn in?"

I pointed to mine, she to hers.

"I will only accept one." He looked at us sternly.

Bitsy spoke first, "Well, professor, I am going to insist the one I pointed to is ours. I will take whatever steps I must to assure it is the one you accept." Bitsy got this cold look. I can't describe it really - earnest emotionlessness??? - like, to her, it was not worth her time AND she was going to prevail - 100% guaranteed.

"Mr. Thomas?" he looked for my acquiescence.

"I accept she will win that argument. So, that is her submission. I did not participate in it, in any way. My submission is the other document."

"Well, that one is not under consideration."

"I guess I flunk, then."

"I suggest you reconsider."

"Professor, I will not share the credit for something on which I did not work." I excused myself and left the two of them looking confused.

Bravado is over-rated. I thought I was going to be sick - but I was not going to share in the credit for her paper. I was confident (that's a big word) - maybe strongly hoping, she would not let me hang out to dry.

My phone rang, Bitsy's ringtone. "Yeah." I answered, demonstrating my heart was not in it.

"We have a date tonight." she was unusually perky.

"Not anymore."

"We are going to use your paper."

"Bitsy, I don't think that makes any difference at this point. You were willing to string me up and let me swing in the wind, if you didn't get your way."

"Uh, Jake, you did the same. I have a bit more power than you, but you said my way or the highway - and did your own paper. The professor told me it was better than mine. Don't be like this, I'll make it up to you..."

<<<<>>>>

I was twenty years old at the time. She was right, both of us were stubborn. Other than the power, how was I different? Making it up to me would be spectacular, so it never even occurred to me to ask, what would you have done if he didn't like my paper better.

I picked up my watch, 12:42 pm.

Meeting her parents should have been the clue. But I was young, in love, and not going to marry her parents.

<<<<>>>>

"Calm yourself. I should be the one to be nervous."

"You are not the kind of guy my parents think I should date." Bitsy was getting ready, wearing only a thong; despite that she was so agitated her nervousness is what caught my attention.

"Oh, what kind would that be?" That was a bit of a slap in the face. I wanted to hear the answer.

"A wealthy business major, silly."

"It would be silly of me to be a business major. Why do you mention that?" Bitsy and I had no problems with her paying, I am about to hear the senior Fontaine's will not be so open minded.

"Well, because all my life, I have been raised with expectations. Our family has acquired wealth and power, and it will be up to me, as an only child, to continue those traditions."

"Wealth and power are your family's goals? Surely you don't mean that."

She got this shocked look, "We've done so well. You're not one of those 'money is the root of all evil' kind of guys."

"That's not the quote. It is from the Bible, I think, it is 'the love of money is the root of all evil'".

"That's semantics." She was looking at me wanting more explanation.

"Wealth is a wonderful thing. It has enabled us to do wonderful things. But wealth is just a thing. What you do with wealth, that's what's important. You certainly behave like you believe that."

It made her think. "Well, sure, enjoying wealth is a part of it." She paused, thinking. "Acquiring money is different, though. My family has taught me to be generous and to enjoy our money. But in the business world, there are no friends, no generosity, only the winner and everyone else."

"We've talked about that. I don't agree. I'm surprised that you do, but we don't want to fight that out. We're in love, we have no issues. But we might if you side with the family business over me."

"Don't worry about that, it'll never happen."

"We'll see."

She laughed and punched me in the arm. "I love you. You make me think. You make me feel differently. I am glad we are going to meet my folks."

"Let me ask again, what about Daddy's goals?"

"My dad is a competitive man. I am sure you are not going to argue with him on your first meeting. I don't think he pursues money. He has a quote, framed and hanging in his office - 'winning is not everything; it is the only thing.' Vince Lombardi."

"That's funny." I smiled at her. "Lombardi said it, but it was some other coach's quote. He just borrowed it."

"That's hardly the point, Jake."

"Your dad plays for big stakes. I would guess that makes losing unthinkable. I can buy that." I really wonder whether I should buy it. I don't believe the end justifies the means.