My money isn’t news with everyone I know yet, but slowly, people are finding out. They’re easy to spot. I get emails and phone calls from strangers, or some random “friend” from fourth grade, kissing my ass, wanting to “grab a beer.” And then there are all the “idea” people playing nice to me, or new entrepreneurs wanting to do me favors with my money—“Ryker, I’ll double your investment!”
I polish off half of my beer with one long swig.
Termites, I call them. Since I made my killing in crypto a few years ago, they’ve been coming out of the woodwork, and they just keep coming.
I take the chicken outside and lay the breasts on the hot grill. The rewarding sizzle lets me know the grill’s temperature is just right. I slap a mosquito on my arm, and it reminds me of that company I saw on Shark Tank with the bat houses. I should get some of those and put them on the trees around here. Or heck, maybe I can build a few myself. That’d help with the mosquitos. And give me something to do.
I flip the chicken and inhale a whiff of my soon-to-be dinner. My stomach grumbles as it finishes cooking. I think about how Dad taught me to grill when I was thirteen. I smile at the memories, especially that time I almost singed off my eyebrows. OK, not funny at the time, but funny now.
This reminds me, I need to reach out to him. He’s the one rock in my life. I pick up my phone to call him, and as I wait for him to answer, I plate my chicken and carry it to the patio table.
Dad picks up, and I put the call on speakerphone.
“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”
“Hey, Ryker! Are you in town?”
“Yeah, just arrived today,” I answer.
“Outstanding, son! I can’t wait to see you!”
My dad and I are close. Closer than I am with my mom, for sure, but she’s the one who destroyed their marriage. And even though I opted to live with her during my teens, to keep my well-meaning dad off my back, I still cherished my time with my dad during senior year. He’s an overly upbeat guy, but his enthusiasm for life always rubs off on me and lightens my soul. We have fairly regular chats over Skype, but it’s nothing like hanging out in person.
“So, Ryker! Doing anything exciting with your life these days?” he asks, trying to get a dig in, as he knows that I do nothing, now that I don’t have to. He always wanted me to be a lawyer and practice at his firm. It was his dream.
I was on that path for many years, completed law school at the University of Michigan, and even passed the Michigan state bar exam. I was all set to become a junior associate at my dad’s firm, when in December 2017, the price of Bitcoin shot up to $20,000, and I sold most of my 100,000 BTC, which netted me $1.6 billion after taxes. So, I almost became a lawyer, and although I’m a solid debater, I couldn’t see myself arguing with people for a living. Honestly, I can’t see myself doing anything for a living.
My dad understood when I opted out. He knew I’d never have to work another day in my life if I didn’t want, nor my future kids, or their kids.
“I’m doing more Spartan races, traveling, buying homes, and philanthropy,” I answer.
“That’s nice, but are you doing anything exciting these days? Something you’re passionate about? There’s more to life than just writing checks, ya know.” There he goes again. He comes out swinging any chance he gets.
When I sold my Bitcoin, I spent the first year running around the world, playing hard, and fucking around. Too many people, too many nights I don’t remember, and too many hangovers. I fully embraced the idea that money buys happiness. It got old though, fast. Which is why my dad’s question annoys me, and I can’t lie to my dad. He’d see right through it.
“Honestly, Dad, I don’t know. I’m staying busy with some things, but I’m still… what is it you like to say… ‘floundering’?”
He chuckles. “Well, you can always come work with me. You’d make a ferocious lawyer.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah, no thanks. I can’t see myself living in this rinky-dink town. No offense.”
“Well, the offer stands, as usual. You know, it’s not all litigation. I’ve got some fascinating IP work I’m sure you’d love to sink your teeth into.”
“Not likely, Dad, but I appreciate the offer.”
He won’t give up. “You need something that makes you jump out of bed every day. Goals! Aspirations! Something fun! You know… a purpose. Something that gets you juiced!”
Juiced is Dad’s favorite word. He’s been harping about this all my life, and more than ever this past year. I appreciate it, but I never resonated with it, because I’d never tasted that kind of juice. I don’t jump out of bed unless I’m late for a meeting, which I never am. Punctuality is one of my virtues.
“Got a lady friend, at least?” he continues. “Maybe you just need a wife and some rugrats running circles around you. You know, legacy stuff.”
I’d laugh, but this topic isn’t funny to me. I wasn’t interested in love before my billions. Mom’s dalliances killed that for me. And, now? With all the money I have? I’d never know if that was the reason a woman wanted to marry me, so I don’t even bother. I avoid relationships like an antelope running from a leopard.
My tone darkens. “No one special, Dad. Not looking either.”
“Don’t let the past spoil you, son. Not everyone cheats. I promise. I never thought I’d be happy, but I found my own second chance at romance, and Nancy makes me happier than I’ve ever been.” He laughs to lighten his mushy words, but his tone
