He then started working for more media and movie companies and worked between media, movies and advertising. Finally, he was offered shares in some companies, and he invested heavily.
Later, he started his own.
I do not ask about his love life, and oddly, it features little. He swings back to his family life, and then he asks me to agree. To agree to keep things to myself.
I do, again, just like I’d done with William and with the signed NDA agreement.
Harry tells me about a great-grandfather. Someone who had done well farming in the south.
And then his hard-working son, who’d moved north and then invested in various businesses. Most of the businesses failed, and the family was close to living on the street. That was when things changed, and when one business did well.
The entire family then sacrificed all and they worked like crazy people. Finally, they got a breakthrough, and they secured a deal. A deal to place their products in stores, across America.
Like many, that had been the turning point, and they went on to do well.
Better than well. They made a small fortune. That’s a lie. They made a huge fortune with generational wealth.
Harry leaps in time again, and he starts to explain from the age of fifteen, he, his sister, and a distant cousin were forced to work hard on someland in the south.
Just to make sure they respected money, and so they learned to work hard.
Harry said it was brutal, but everything ever since has been relatively easy.
We share a glance; it’s nice he is opening up. Sighing, he stands and walks away. Finally, he stops, looking across the ocean below, deep in thought.
“The thing is, now it’s just me. I’m the last. The point then becomes, what is the fucking point? To any of this? To working hard? To striving? To doing anything? When I die, the family dies!”
I watch him closely. He has not moved an inch since he started to look across the water.
I am likely stepping over the line, but screw it, the cold brute needs help. Standing next to him, I rest an arm on his. It is not flirty, just supportive.
I have a brother, and I have a mother. And somewhere, I think I still have a father. Also cousins, even if some are weird.
Poor Grumpy has no one.
No one in the world.
“You have friends,” I say. “You also have people who love you.”
Finally, Harry nods, but he doesn’t look over. “Thanks, I do.”
We stand like that for a while, and I lean my scruffy hair on his thick arm. The arm that held me in the Mustang and made me feel better.
The Pacific Ocean ahead of us is silent, and we gaze at it, all alone.
I decide to give Harry some more positive energy because he clearly needs it. Now more than ever.
“The good thing is,” I say, “you’re strong. Stronger than most men I know.”
Harry sighs, so I decide to shake him out of it.
“You’re resilient. You are also confident. You are also capable;you are a timeless warrior.” Harry does not move. “It’s just a shame. A shame you have the cock of a boy.”
I run as fast as I can, and he yells loudly from somewhere behind me.
Screaming, I streak away for my life. I know Harry runs daily and I know I need distance.
I also know he is chasing me. I can hear his feet thunder across the lawn.
