Writing Our Song:A Billionaire Romance

Chapter 11


George dropped me off at the front doors of the Sky Tower, the needle-like building I had seen driving into the city the previous night, and wished me a good night as I stepped out. The first thing I did was look straight up towards the top and feel a little dizzy as I watched a couple of clouds float slowly past it.

The elevator seemed to take a long time to get up to the restaurant and I took the opportunity to look over myself one last time. The black dress had been placed back in its box and I had put on the most formal outfit I had packed, which was positively drab by comparison. Still, it was mine, this was more ‘me’.

When I entered the restaurant I was greeted by a middle aged woman with her hair tied back in a tight bun. She offered me a well-practiced smile.

“Good evening!”

“Hi there. I’m meeting someone here tonight, I think they have a reservation.”

“I’ll check for you, do you have a name?”

“Uh… Holt? Jeremy Holt?”

The woman’s eyebrows raised and she looked from me and then quickly down at a list on the counter in front of her. It looked more like she was using it as a way to compose herself rather than because she wasn’t sure if Jeremy’s name was on the list.

“Ms. Hampton?”

“Yes, that’s me, Beatrice.”

“Welcome to Orbit Three Sixty, Mr. Holt has already arrived. I’ll show you to your table.”

I was led to a table by the window and saw Jeremy stand up when he spotted me, moving around to pull my chair out. I gave him a polite smile when he greeted me and admired the view for a moment while he re-seated himself.

The woman said a waitress would be with us shortly and we could come see her if there were any problems or special requests before heading back to her spot by the entrance. The sun was setting at that moment, casting an orange glow on the few scattered clouds in the sky as I took it all in.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Jeremy said.

“It is. Is this the most expensive restaurant in Auckland, then?”

“No, not by a long shot I think, it just has the best seats in the house. You… uh… didn’t like the dress?”

I tore my eyes from the fiery colors outside, glanced at Jeremy, and then looked down at my hands resting in my lap. It wasn’t easy to break the habit of the past four years.

“It was… really pretty, but I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?”

“Just… this is already too much,” I gestured around at the restaurant and the whole situation in general and paused before continuing in a voice barely above a squeak. “Don’t try to buy me. OK?”

“I wasn’t. Bea, look at me. I wasn’t trying to do that. I saw the way you looked a bit uncomfortable with what you wore to breakfast and thought you might like to take your mind off that kind of thing for an evening too.”

“OK. But take it back, alright?”

“If you say so.”

Jeremy looked mildly disappointed and started looking at the drinks menu. My eyes shifted to look out the window again for a moment and I took a deep breath before speaking again. I’d stayed calm but I wanted to be kind too, hadn’t I?

“Thanks for the thought though. It really is a beautiful dress.”

The corners of Jeremy’s mouth lifted in a hopeful little smile that lit his features even more than the low-lying sun. I almost found myself blushing in the face of it. Part of my reaction was from the innocence of that smile, like I should be embarrassed for my accusation of him trying to buy me.

The rest of it was more of the same sensations I’d had when he smiled at me in the past. I cleared my throat and looked away again. Too much of that smile would just get me in trouble.

“Speaking of beautiful,” he said, “what did you get up to today?”

“Nothing.”

“Couldn’t find the exit of the hotel? It’s right at the front.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean ‘nothing’ in the nicest possible way. The driver, George, took me to a beach and I stayed there all day. Literally all day. I did nothing and I’d do it again in a heartbeat!”

“Looks like it did you some good, you seem… I don’t know. Different.”

“I think it did.”

“Well, would you like to share a bottle of wine with me to celebrate?”


“Sure, why not?”

Jeremy looked around and found a waitress already approaching us. After checking with me for my preference between white and red, he chose a Sauvignon Blanc. It arrived accompanied by a little bucket of ice that the waitress placed it in after filling our glasses.

“To chilling out,” said Jeremy, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” I said.

Our glasses clinked and I took a small sip for flavor before a larger mouthful.

“So was your day as productive as mine?” I asked.

“Nah. I think these guys might be just one-hit-wonders so I don’t think I’ll be doing too much more with them. Thankfully their hit is a real big one though.”

The wine went down nicely and I thought it complimented my meal very well. I ended up having a salmon dish and Jeremy went with a steak, medium well-done. The lights of the city were sparkling below us by the time we finished and the wine was definitely adding its own little buzz to my mood.

“What do you think about dessert?” Jeremy asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just at that crucial tipping point between satisfied and too full… but it would taste so good!”

“Yeah, I’m…”

Just then a party of four several tables away from us knocked a bottle of wine to the floor, where it practically exploded in a shower of foam. Jeremy startled and turned around, I leaned to the side to get a better view as the three people who had apparently not been responsible for the accident began berating their dinner companion in a friendly manner.

“Taxi…” said Jeremy.

“Meh. Some duct tape will fix that right up,” I said.

Jeremy chuckled, “I like how you called it ‘duct’ tape, not ‘duck’ tape like I hear all too often.”

“I come from a long line of duct tape enthusiasts. I was babysat by duct tape as often as a real live person when my parents used to go out on dates.”

He laughed. “My first company’s motto was ‘Carpe Ductum’, seize the duct.”

“Oh please. I don’t see how you could really appreciate duct tape. You’ve probably never run out of it, never had those tough months were the duct tape budget just didn’t stretch enough.”

Jeremy’s grin split apart in a hearty laugh at my impromptu declaration of near-love for the handy household tape-based adhesive. I could almost feel myself channeling my dad, it was definitely the kind of stupid conversation we would have had back in the day.

“It’s true, the budget is pretty safe…” said Jeremy.

“You’ve never had that sinking feeling, coming home after a long day at work, just knowing deep down within yourself that there’s no duct tape in your house.”

“Stop!” he begged through his laughter.

“You get inside, you hang up your jacket and head down to the basement. You look around and take a deep breath. Sure enough, the hostages have escaped.”

Jeremy’s eyes were beginning to water as he gripped the table with one hand and put the other over his stomach.

“Too full for this…” he panted.

“So spare me these crocodile tears, you’ll never love duct tape like me.”

“You know, I’ve got problems of my own. Do you have any idea the funny looks they give me when I head to the checkout in a hardware store with a wheelbarrow full of duct tape?”

“I bet they’re looks that say ‘this guy has got it all figured out’ am I right?”

“No. Most of the time they ask awkward questions. I try to be polite, try to impart some good advice. I’m like ‘Young man…” Jeremy held up a finger as if to draw the fictional hardware store employee’s attention to an important point he was making. “… a word to the wise. No matter what they say, no matter what they promise, and no matter how trustworthy they seem to be. A hostage will never stay where you put them.’”

The statement caught me by surprise and I joined Jeremy in belly-aching laughter for a few moments before he continued, both of us seemingly oblivious to the odd looks we were drawing from our fellow diners.

“’Now… if I buy two hundred rolls of duct tape, can I get the wheelbarrow for free?’”

“Always looking for a deal huh, Mr. Holt?” I forced out through the laughter.

“Oh yeah, it all adds up, it’s all part of playing the game. I should probably mix it up a bit though, there’s not much more that a single man can do with thirty wheelbarrows that he can’t do with one or two.”

“Maybe some kind of wheelbarrow-based art?”

“Maybe.”

Jeremy looked over his shoulder to where some employees of the restaurant were doing their best to recover all the pieces of broken glass and wipe up the spilled wine, then back to me. A conspiratorial look sparkled in his eye as he leaned forward and spoke quietly.

“Bea, can you keep a secret?”

I didn’t answer but couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward with curiosity. My cheeks were almost cramping up from smiling, as were my stomach muscles from all the laughing and the closer I got to him, the more exhilarated I felt. I looked at him almost in awe, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d felt like this.

In his eyes I could see myself, illuminated by candlelight, a smile on my face. I looked like a normal happy person, a person I would want to know. The closer we got, the clearer that image of myself became until we were in whispering-distance.

“I’ve got a suit made entirely from duct tape,” he said.

The laughter built up again, starting in my stomach but growing until my shoulders were shaking. I had to push my chair back and twist to the side so I could fold my arms across my belly as I doubled over. I thought I was going burst.

“What’s it like?”

“Well… I can see why they normally use cotton. It’s kinda stiff. You’d never wear it for running a marathon.”

“With that obvious use off the table, what do you use it for?”

“I like to apply for jobs under pseudonyms, so I can go for interviews in it. Keep my negotiating skills sharp. Most people aren’t like you, they wouldn’t see a guy in a duct tape suit and think they’ve got a real trail-blazing go-getter on their hands.”

“Yeah, I’d hire you on the spot, promote you ahead of myself if I could. How did the worst interview go?” I asked.

“Probably the guy that just didn’t say anything, just stared at me.”

“What did you do?”

“I looked him in the eye and stared right back. After about an hour, I decided the interview was over and went to stand up. Let me tell you, an hour in an unconditioned office in California, and the suit was sticking to the chair, I had to take it with me. I never broke eye contact until I was out the door.”

I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears of laughter that wanted to force themselves out, just picturing this incognito billionaire in a duct tape suit with an office chair stuck to his ass slowly backing away from an interviewer with a defiant look on his face.

“Wow, free chair.”

“Again, it all adds up.”

Finally, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and sat back in my chair, managing to calm myself down a bit.

“Well, I think I just worked off all those calories I saved by doing nothing all day. Dessert sounds good now.”

“Deal.”


I ended up getting some delicious chocolate ice cream and Jeremy had an apple tart topped with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. There were several times I failed or succeeded in holding back a snort of laughter thinking about Jeremy and that duct tape suit. I was almost finished with my ice cream when Jeremy spoke again.

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”

I concentrated on my dessert for a moment, moving a slowly melting chunk or two of ice cream around my bowl, and sighed. When I looked up I saw that Jeremy had paused his own eating and was looking at me thoughtfully.

“The truth is I haven’t heard myself laugh in a long time. I’d… forgotten what it sounded like.”

“Sounded pretty good, I think,” said Jeremy.

I scooped some ice cream into my mouth and tasted that rich chocolate flavor as I thought about how I’d managed to produce enough fake smiles to get by in life without people noticing anything amiss. It was almost beyond words to describe how good it felt to let go and just laugh, to find something so silly, so ridiculous, that I couldn’t help myself.

Jeremy resumed his own dessert and I stole a quick glance at him, a tiny smile playing across my lips that I was sure had nothing to do with how good the ice cream was.

*****

For the next few days Jeremy continued to meet with the software people and I was left to my own devices until the evenings when we went out for dinner. Conversation flowed easier all the time and we kept it all pretty light-hearted.

Once all the meetings were finished and Jeremy could take some time off, we checked out of the Hilton and flew to a place called Wellington, the capital of the country. From there we took a ferry across to the South Island where a car and driver were waiting for us.

A few hours later, we turned left off the main highway into a little coastal town called Kaikoura while I was staring out of the right window at some beautiful snow-capped mountain range. Jeremy had booked an entire house for the two of us and when I went exploring I counted six bedrooms.

Although that was possibly a bit over the top, I guessed a single bedroom place would probably have been on the presumptuous side. After a long day of travel via plane, boat, and car we were both pretty tired and enjoyed some delivered food, which couldn’t possibly have been mass-produced, in comfortable silence before retiring to our own bedrooms.