A Christmas Gift, But Not for Me Ch. 02

"I brought my new girlfriend back here. She's got lots of friends, I had a few loose ends to tie up, and I need to figure out my next move." I explained.

He wore a look on his face that said "I told you so".

"What did I say? I said - get down there and find yourself some flightless bird, give her what for and forget Little Miss Spit Roast ever existed, didn't I? He was very proud of himself.

"Well, not in so many words, but there was some truth to it, so yes - you can bask in the glory, Andrew." I laughed.

"Don't mind if I do, Benny Boy - don't mind if I do." He did a little drum roll on the table with his fingers, then picked up his pint, downing it in one. "Fuck me, did I not need that!"

He ordered another round of beers and we settled in to chat. Andy was a rough and ready boy-made-good. He was a phenomenal art director and photographer, a talent that was heightened by the fact that he never had grand ideas about himself or his art. His eye stayed true, he stuck to what he loved, and because of that he was one of the most reliable and sought after visual thinkers in London. I had learned a ton from him, both professionally and personally. Andy had a wife and three children, and he loved them more than anything. Most men in his position had pretty young things falling off them, a part-time drug habit and at least one ex-wife. Not Andy, he married Celeste at 19 in a small Church in High Wycombe, and had been with her ever since.

"Right Ben, I'm now three beers better off, and that is the official level of inebriation to help sorry little cunts like you to sort themselves out. After five beers, it all turns to custard, so hurry up." Andy stated.

"Well, I love writing, but not copywriting. And I love coming up with ways to sway opinion and change behaviour, but I don't want to use my skills to sell..."

"Shit that no one needs?" Andy finished for me?

"Precisely." I replied.

Andy stared at me for a long time, and grew serious.

"I've been keeping an eye on you. I've kept in touch with your creative director in New Zealand, and he raves about you. I've always been a fan of your way of understanding why people do things and how to get them to do good things."

I waited, getting the feeling like this was going somewhere.

"Now, you know that I'm a bloke who likes to be at home as much as possible, yeah?"

I nodded.

"Ben, I don't need to be at work. I don't need to the money. I do it because I enjoy it. Celeste is made of more money than you could dream of. We're beyond loaded."

"But, you're so...normal..." I started, but Andy cut me off.

"I'm not a cunt, and I hate rich pricks who think they're all that, cos money can make people into the worst versions of themselves. We're normal, we live in a normal house, in a normal street, but we just have more money than we'll ever know what to do with." Andy wasn't boasting, he was telling me as if he was telling me about the weather forecast.

"Ben, this is going to sound fucken' mad to you, as in proper nuts, but just go with it. Celeste and I have decided not to give our money to charity, cos it all goes in the wrong places. We've decided we would rather find a bunch of amazing people, and pay them to go and do what they do so they can help the world. So, you're an amazing writer - you can come up with ideas to solve shit, you change hearts and minds, and you're a great person. There are charities and groups and people who would need what you do, but can't afford you. Celeste and I are going to pay you handsomely to be you."

I was stunned. Literally motionless. I opened my mouth to speak, but cut me off.

"No - have I said you can talk? No. So shut it. I've also been checking up on your new missus. Turns out she's an exceptional lawyer - her lecturers and all the firms she's interned with think she's the duck's nuts. So we want to pay her, too. You can travel, you can see the world, right wrongs, fix breaks, tell cool stories, help the helpless - just do what you do to the best of your ability, and let us have the pleasure of making it possible."

Unbelievably, I had tears in my eyes. He reached out and hugged me again, this time with real tenderness. Then he suddenly pushed me away and looked disturbed by something.

"Fuck, I forgot to say, it's all above board - Celeste told me to tell you that it's not drug money or gun running or laundering or anything like that. Celeste's Aunt Elsa was one of the richest birds in Britain, she was also a raging lesbo and never had any kids. She loved Celeste like a daughter, so when she bit the dust, she left it all to Celeste, with the condition that she do good with it all. Phew, if I'd forgotten that, I'd be a dead man."

"Andy, I..."

"Don't make any decisions now - go home, talk to Clarissa, then come for tea. We'll sort it out then." Andy finished his beer, slammed it down on the table and stood up, wrapping his scarf around him.

"Be in touch, sooner the better, Benny Boy - you and your lass have got some good to do in this world!"

—————————————————-

"You know how you said that you want to be a lawyer, but not for the rich people who could afford one?" I asked Clarissa as we sat in Meg's lounge room enjoying a Central Otago Pinot as our host was out at the gym. Clarissa looked questioningly at me.

"And you know how you said you don't want to work for "the man"?" I enquired further. Clarissa nodded.

"Well, this might sound very strange, and it does sound strange - even to me, and I've had a couple of hours to process all this. But - you will have to work for a man, but not "the" man. And you can take any case you want, anywhere that you are allowed to practise law."

"Ben, you are making no sense whatsoever. Stop talking in riddles." Clarissa demanded, but there was a level of excitement beneath the frustration.

"Clar, my former creative director married into serious money, as in - they couldn't spend it all if they tried. And today, he told me he wanted to pay us, to employ us, to be amazing at what we do. He wants me to do write the stories of people whose stories never get told - the proper heroes in our world. And he wants you to help the people who have no chance of defending themselves."

Clarissa processed quietly. "But he doesn't even know me." She protested.

"He's spoken to your lecturers and the law firms where you interned, and they've said good things." I replied.

"So, he's giving us a basic wage, and we go from there?" She asked.

"No, he said he'd pay us handsomely. And it's not just us, they're sponsoring theatre directors, singer-songwriters, inventors, doctors, nurses, teachers. 20 people, apparently."

I showed her the text I had received from Andy not long after returning from San Miguel.

She cautiously rose from her seat, taking care not to spill her expensive wine, placing it carefully on the side table, and then launched herself at me. She hugged me hard and kissed me repeatedly on the cheek, then the mouth.

"Ben, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Every day gets better. I have no idea if this is real, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. Can I tell Meg?" She pleaded.

"Yes, but only Meg." I warned. As I spoke, an email popped up on my phone with more of the finer details about our arrangement. We both sat down to read and discover what our immediate future looked like.

———————-

"Fuck off". Meg said, emphatically. It was some time later and I had forgotten that Clarissa was planning to tell Meg about our new employment. I looked up in alarm to see that she was staring aghast at the details on Clarissa's phone, with Clarissa herself standing to her side, hopping from foot to foot excitedly.

"No really. Fuck. Right. Off. Two hundred grand? Each. Per year? To do what you want?" She looked between us both, brow knitted in mock fury. "You two, pack your bags, you can't stay here - you're way too blessed. Fuckers."

Meg's language always took a turn for the worse when she got excited. She took on the persona of a school mistress as she read the email out loud.

"Ahem.

Dear Ben and Clarissa,

It's with huge delight that we can offer you the positions of game changers in your profession. You have been chosen for your humanitarian natures, your skills in your field and your ability to resonate with people.

We require from you both a plan of work and a supporting itinerary, along with an annual report on results. We would like you to commit to at least 2 years of working with us, after which time we can assess the arrangement to ensure it is working for both parties.

Individual contracts have been drawn up and are attached to this email, however we hope our offer of 200,000 pounds per annum plus airfares and expenses meets with your approval.

We would love to have found the time to offer this in person, to have you around for "tea" but we are now recruiting some very special people in New York so are needed elsewhere. Rest assured that we are very excited to be on the cusp of a programme that will have genuine change in the world.

XXXXXXX

The Game Changers.

PS - sorry for using the word cusp - Andy says only cunts use such a word.

Love, Celeste."

Meg stopped, and when she looked up at me, there was real tenderness in her eyes. "You two really are special, and this is just what you deserve. Please feel that this is your home away from home - your base whenever you're in London." She got a wicked gleam in her eye as a thought crossed her mind. "I mean, it's win-win - you get a place to stay and I get myself eaten out by two of the most talented tongues in the world."