The Paler Shade of Autumn (16 page)

Jet laughs. “Nope. I’m sure he condones it. In fact he orders it.”

Within minutes they are cruising out of the basement in Jet’s Aston Martin. She presses her back against the leather chair and grins, still not used to the luxury of its appearance. Jet steers onto the street and glances at Autumn from the corner of his eye. “Where to?”

She grins. “My choice?”

He nods. “We can do whatever you want.”

She looks out of the car window up to the cloudless blue sky poking through the lofty high rises of the city. “You can’t have the day off in Queensland and not go to the beach,” she replies, body yearning to feel the sun’s rays. Working in an office through the daytime hours seriously makes one deficient in good ol’ vitamin D.

“The Gold Coast?”

“Yeah. We can grab some brunch and have a swim. It’s perfect weather today,” she says, mind and body already relaxing, feeling the weight of a once imminent long work day releasing from her shoulders like a helium balloon being let loose.

They make a flying stop at Jet’s suite so he can change out of his suit into a pair of shorts, a shirt and sandals and then swing by Autumn’s apartment. While Jet waits for her in the lounge she changes into her bikini, covering it with a strapless, white maxi-dress, and slips on a pair of strappy sandals. She packs a bag with a beach towel, sunglasses and sunscreen. Before long they are cruising along the M1 to the glorious beaches of the Gold Coast.

Mid-morning they arrive. Autumn slides down the window so she can breathe in the salty air and feel the ocean-touched wind wisp against her face as Jet finds a park at Main Beach, along the esplanade. They climb out of the car and take in the space before them, the wide stretch of clean, blonde sand and the gentle break of the blue ocean. He takes her arm in his and they stroll up the esplanade in search of a place to enjoy brunch.

They decide to eat at a coffee shop that is quite a step up from last night’s choice of restaurant. They sit outside under the canopies that filter the heat of the sun, providing a warm shade.

“Sure beats work,” says Autumn, opening the menu. “But I shouldn’t talk like that in front of my boss.”

Jet laughs. “Autumn. Your boss isn’t here today. Only me. That man who shared your first glimpses of Bodh Gaya.”

“And saved me from that awful old hag with those terrifying, twisted nails.” She shivers.

“And who shared his bed with you.”

Autumn blushes. “I know who you are now. I thought you looked familiar. Jet right?”

He laughs. “You remember?”

She smiles, opens her mouth to reply, but the waitress interrupts. “Good morning. Would you like to order some drinks while you’re deciding?”

Jet snaps open the menu to the beverage section, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll have a latte, please. How about you, Autumn?”

“The same please. With skim milk though.”

The waitress nods and stares at Jet for longer than is appropriate. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says, eventually. “You’re Jethro Stark!”

Autumn peers at Jet for his reaction, eyes narrowed. He looks up to the waitress, not smiling. “Yes,” he says curtly.

The waitress breaks into a smile. “I thought it was you. You’re dating Blossom Banks. I read about you in
Chique
. Wow!”

Jet meets Autumn’s eyes, looking sheepish and then inclines his head to the waitress. “I would appreciate your discretion,” he glances at the waitress’s name tag, “Kate.”

“Of course,” she says, her voice now a full octave higher. “It’s so great to meet you.”

Jet nods, peers quickly at Autumn.

“I’ll get those coffees for you right away,” says Kate before smiling and bounding off inside the cafe.

Autumn raises one eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve gained yourself an admirer there.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, shaking his head.

She shrugs. “It’s not your fault. I guess that’s what happens when you date a Hollywood actress.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So you even got a spread in a magazine? I have to buy it to see what the media are saying about you.”

His voice is curt. “I’d rather you didn’t. I wouldn’t always trust what they print in
magazines
.”

She looks at him for a long moment, trying to understand where this sudden anger has come from. “I was merely trying to keep it light,” she says, unable to hide the subtle belligerence stirring within, at having been spoken to so brusquely.

Jet closes his eyes and releases a long sigh. “I’m sorry. That was totally misdirected. You don’t deserve to bear the brunt of my problems.”

“Problems?” she questions, startled.

“Don’t even concern yourself with any of it. Just a little situation I’m dealing with.”

“Concerning Blossom?”

He nods. “It’s no big deal.”

“Ok,” she says.

He smiles. “Thanks.”

She can’t help herself from looking at his hand though; thinking all it would take is a short reach over the table.

He laughs. “Curious are we?”

She shakes her head quickly. “No. Not at all.”

Their coffees arrive and are placed on the table by the exuberant Kate, who deals, looks, talks only to Jet, as though Autumn is nothing more than a nebulous shadow sitting opposite him. She can understand the reaction; Jet’s rich, powerful, has made the BRW rich list three years running,
was
involved with a Hollywood actress and above all, is totally sexy.

As she watches him, she can suddenly sense an imbalance between them, something, despite his position, his car, his hotel room, she hasn’t felt before. In India, there was a definite parity, emotionally and materially, she a mere student, he a volunteer, but now, five years later, things have changed.

The waitress finally leaves them alone when absolutely certain her flirtatious lilt and kittenish eye flutters are having no effect on Jet except repressed annoyance.

“I apologise,” says Jet.

Autumn waves her hand at him. “What are you going to eat?”

He looks at the menu and then back to Autumn. “Let’s get out of here. I said I wanted to spend the day alone with you and here we are contending with overzealous waitresses. Why don’t we go and get some takeaway fish and chips and eat it on the beach?”

Autumn glances inside at the waitress, standing with four others, ogling Jet, laughing and gossiping among each other. “Sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll go in and pay for the drinks, you can wait for me out front.”

She doesn’t give him time to offer money, or give any alternatives; rises from her seat and heads off towards the counter. Autumn pays for the drinks, much to the uninhibited resentment of the waitresses and joins Jet out the front of the restaurant.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t worry about it.” Autumn takes his arm and they walk to the nearest takeaway shop. They order fish and chips and stroll down to the beach, finding a shady spot of grass under a pine tree.

Jet tears open the paper and they eat the contents with their fingers. “Now this is more like it,” he says.

She laughs. “The simple pleasures of life are sometimes the best.”

“Most definitely. And no pesky waitresses,” he adds.

Autumn eyes a number of seagulls that are circling above them. “But you may have to contend with some pesky seagulls.”

“Seagulls I can handle.”

Autumn picks a chip from the paper and bites it in half. “I hope you don’t mind me asking?”

“What?”

“How exactly have you been able to be so successful in such a short time?”

Jet smiles. “It’s been a lot of really hard work, first and foremost,” he says. “It’s also been a lot of stupid risks and expensive deals that I have managed to pull off.”

“You said Monday night you started in property development?”

He nods his head and finishes chewing a chip. “Yep. That’s where it all began. I had no money when I came back from India, bar the barest necessities to live on, but I had a passion that far exceeded any rationality and so I began to think outside the box. How can I make money when I don’t have any? The answer was simple—have other people use theirs instead and pay them a nice return for the privilege.

“I would personally contact land owners and ask them to let me use their land for a development and, in return, give them a fair price for the land plus a percentage of profits. Then I got builders to offer their time and labour in exchange for a share of profits at the end of the development. I got investors to pay for the immediate expenses and offer capital to get bank loans. Basically, I combined the assets that each person has individually, from which, alone, they could only make modest profits, but when combined and working together, could make exponential profits in which they can have a share.”

“That’s creative”

He shrugs. “But creativity is not where credit is due. My success comes from my perspective and purpose. And that is something you can’t buy. It’s something that can only ever be gained. If I didn’t have the overwhelming, brutal desire to help others, I wouldn’t be successful. It’s that simple. Why else would I want to make money? To buy bullshit that some other greedy bastard says I need.”

She raises one eyebrow. “But you drive an Aston Martin and are shacked up in a ritzy hotel?”

He nods. “Because I can. I earn more than enough to provide for a certain level of lifestyle. But that’s not what I earn money
for
. That’s the difference. I can have a ritzy lifestyle or not, either way it doesn’t bother me. I’m just as happy eating vegetarian food prepared by a monk from produce donated by pilgrims, as I am eating in a fancy restaurant. Every cent of after-tax profits I earn, in every company I own, is sent to my charities. Every cent.”

“So what of perspective?”

“That’s where I have to thank my experiences in India and from Darshan. Over there you can’t avoid seeing real poverty. You know, you saw it too, in Bodh Gaya, in Cambodia. It’s confronting, but once you’ve seen it, you can’t turn away from it as though it doesn’t exist. You know it’s true, otherwise you wouldn’t have set up your own charity.”

Autumn nods.

“I came to realise that not everyone is dealt the same hand in life and the reasons for that vary depending on what you believe in. But regardless of what you believe in, or what God rules you or where you go in the afterlife, everyone deserves the opportunity to rise out of the mire, to break the cycle. Some are willing to embrace the opportunity I can give them, to help themselves, and those are the people I want to help—those willing to help themselves, because they are the people that will win. I never had a privileged childhood, my parents didn’t earn a lot of money, I went to a public school, but I had more than many, many people on this planet have and all I try to do is provide them with that little bit of education and opportunity and happiness. But it’s up to them to make of it what they choose.”

Autumn picks at another chip, taking it into her mouth and chewing it slowly. “You know, I read an article, probably two years ago, about you.”

Jet raises an eyebrow.

“I think it was in BRW. You were explaining your motivations for being in business and your ethical viewpoint and how, under any circumstances, you maintain your integrity at all times. I read that article, Jet, and decided, right there and then, that I needed to find employment in one of your companies.”

“You did?” he asks, smiling.

She nods. “Without knowing the man being interviewed was you, I was drawn to you and what you believe in.”

“So you can see I’m still me?”

She nods. “Yes, just manifesting on a much broader scale.”

He smiles, skirts closer by her side. “It makes me so very happy to hear you say that,” he says, fixing his glorious eyes on hers.

“Why?” she asks. “Why me? I’m nobody.”

His eyes widen with incredulity. “I don’t even know what to say to that. I took you for someone who knows their own self-worth, Autumn.”

Her cheeks burn. “I meant, it’s only that I feel our social status is so different now. For God’s sake, you’re my boss, you’re one of the wealthiest men in Australia, you can have any woman you want, Blossom Banks included. Why do you want me?”

She can see the irritation in his stare. “Why?” he repeats, brusquely. “Because everything you mentioned just now is bullshit. It’s materialistic bullshit. And if you haven’t learnt by now that it means nothing to me—status, money—then you really don’t know me.”

“Please, try and see it from my angle,” she pleads.

He sighs and closes his eyes for a few seconds and finally nods. “Ok. I can see your point. But only slightly,” he says. “All I’m going to say is this: you reach me on a level deeper than the superficial shell. It’s not just physical with you and me, but spiritual. You’re beautiful, more beautiful than anyone else I know, but I want to be with you for reasons beyond that.”

She mulls that over for long, silent moment. “I know that to an extent,” she says, resigned. “I saw that, when we originally met. I guess I’m questioning all that now because your lifestyle contradicts it all, especially Blossom Banks. She epitomises superficiality—fake breasts, perfect body, manicured, primed and pruned in every possible way.”

He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut. “You’re right,” he says, shoulders sagging. “You’re absolutely right. I was definitely side-tracked by Blossom. I was like a deer caught in her headlights,” he glances at Autumn bashfully, “no pun intended.” He reaches for her thigh, rubbing his hand delicately along its length. “But I promise you, she has been a mere—shameful as it is to say it—
distraction
from what I have needed since you left me that morning in Bodh Gaya. I didn’t think I would ever see you again and when I did, I realised what a wanker I’ve been.” He lowers his voice. “No wonder I’m copping the consequences now.”

She nods slowly, trying to accept his explanation without emotional judgement; jealousy will not contribute anything to the conversation. He is being truthful and she is grateful for that. “I do understand. On some level, I understand. I’ve witnessed enough of humanity, thanks to my
insight
, to see things on a level others don’t.”

“So you see you have no reason to doubt my affections?”