“No, no. I’ll be fine with re-runs of Veronica Mars and a tub of Haagen Dazs. Don’t you worry about me.”
It was almost a repeat of the beginning of their first date, and Megan was almost equally nervous. This time, she saw at once, Jake wore a custom-made dark suit, and had on aviators against the early evening sun.
“Hi Jake,” she said, doing her best to sound unruffled in circumstances which were anything but. Always with this one and the fancy cars. Is he still trying to convince me that he’s rich?
“You look amazing... again,” Jake said, kissing her on the cheek, but then dispelled the formality and softly pressed his lips to hers. He tasted slightly of mint and he smelled amazing. “Care to take a seat in the back?”
Jake opened the door to reveal a plush, leather interior which was surprisingly spacious, even given the stretched chassis. Once they were both seated, Jake called through to the driver. “OK, Manny. Ready when you are.”
“Yes sir, Mr. McMahon,” Manny replied in an eastern European accent. “I’ll have you there in no time.”
Megan fixed Jake with her gaze as the car took off. “Where’s ‘there’ tonight, Jake?”
The young entrepreneur straightened his deep-red tie. “Would you mind if we retained the element of mystery for just a little longer?” he pleaded. “I enjoy surprises, especially if I’m not the one being surprised.”
“OK. I’ll indulge you, just this once.”
They caught up on recent news, though Megan was careful not to mention Tom or Andrea, despite their importance in her life. “How was the New York trip?”
“Oh, fine. I was meeting with some investors, and they seem eager to sign up.”
“Sign up to what?” Megan wanted to know.
Jake drew a diagram with his fingers in the air. “Well, one of the biggest problems in getting broadband internet to developing nations is the lack of infrastructure. There’s demand, and plenty of local companies ready to run the network, but no-one prepared to invest in building the network in the first place. Right?”
“With you so far.”
“These investors are of the ‘high-risk, high-yield’ variety. Real go-getters. But they’re also people who are tired of seeing others get cold feet when it comes to working in poorer parts of the world.”
“Understandable, though, isn’t it?” Megan offered.
Jake nodded. “It certainly has been, in the past. But these days, you’re basically taking no greater a risk operating in Burundi or in Cameroon than you are in Brazil or China. Part of my salesmanship,” he said, palms spread in a gesture somewhat resembling ‘jazz hands’, “is to persuade investors that the old stereotypes are exactly that. These are countries with the rule of law, and real potential.”
“And it’s working?”
He nodded again. “I’m awaiting some confirmation, but I’m pretty sure we can go ahead and break ground on the first fiber-optic cables in the history of Laos.”
“Impressive,” Megan said. “Are there many Laotians with Facebook?”
“There will be, once it’s up and running. At first, it’s mainly for the universities and government departments, so that they can more easily exchange information with the rest of the world.”
Outside the tinted windows, the sun was beginning to set over Boston. Megan recognized where they were, though she hadn’t traveled through this area much. “Wait, isn’t this the way to the...”
“You’ll see,” was all he said. Within minutes, though, Megan’s suspicions were confirmed.
“Jake?” she said, her face deliberately dark with half-feigned worry.
The car came to a halt and he reached for the door handle, but stopped short for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you have a fear of flying.”
“I have a fear of uncertainty,” she countered. “Want to let me in on the plan?”
He sat back, took a breath. “Can we leave it like this? I’m taking you somewhere I think you’ll love, and I promise to have you back by morning.” He looked into her eyes, hoping to see the trust he craved. “Deal?”
Megan slid a lock of hair behind her ear and said, “Done”.
“Outstanding. Thanks, Manny,” Jake called through to the driver. “I’ve got your number for tomorrow morning.”
“Any time you need, Mr. McMahon. I’ll let Phil know you’re on your way.”
Boston’s Logan Airport on a Saturday evening in spring was pretty busy, but Jake led Megan through a couple of hallways and into a much quieter area of the terminal building. They passed long lines of people waiting to check in or drop bags, and seemed to bypass anything but the most basic security.
“Friends in high places?” Megan asked. “Or do you just have so many air miles they don’t make you check in anymore?”
“Check in for what?” he asked, and opened a door. To Megan’s amazement, the door led straight out onto the tarmac, where a small, sleek jet was waiting. “No checkin here, Megan. It’s just us.”