I shower, dress in a cozy lounge set, and unpack. Then I check my work email and log into my bank account to catch up on bills. My stomach sinks since there have been a lot of start-up business expenses.
When I look at my account balance, I think I’m misreading the number. I blink, readjust my glasses, and look again more carefully. Still the same.
“What the fuck?” I say to the screen.
I look through the latest deposits, suck in my breath, and then grab my phone and type furiously.
Me:
WHY IS THERE A $750,000 DEPOSIT IN MY BANK ACCOUNT FROM YOU?
Sebastian:
I know. Shocking, right? It was supposed to be twice that. But your bank sucks and wouldn’t deal with that large of a transaction. It was a major process just to get that amount deposited.
Me:
Is this because of all the sex? Am I some extremely highly paid sex worker now?
Sebastian:
If it were for the sex, there would be way more money there. Tens of millions, at the very least. More. You could have my entire fortune.
Me:
Sebastian. Focus. Why did you make that transfer?
Sebastian:
Relax. It’s for actual work. Not for the fun kind. I realized you were never paid for all your overtime. All those nights, holidays, and weekends. So, here you go. Surprise!
Me:
I was paid well for it because that was what the job entailed. And I got a very generous salary.
Sebastian:
Nah. I had Matt run a spreadsheet on the extra time you worked. He had to do some guesstimating, but he came up with an amount. And then I doubled it. Cause you’re awesome. And so am I.
Me:
I am not accepting this money.
Sebastian:
But think about how it could help your business. Even better, you could use it toward a house. You can move somewhere safe. Otherwise, I’m going to have to pay for bodyguards and round-the-clock surveillance scoping out your sketchy neighborhood. So one way or another, this will come out of my bank account.
Me:
Sebastian… boundaries.
Sebastian:
But I’m being steadfast.
Me:
You can be steadfast without being absurd.
