Thank you for reading, and a big thanks to helenawrites and amacma for reviewing the last chapter!
...
Jack's eyes bored into Heller's face, searching for some kind of a reaction, but the man simply stared straight ahead, refusing to meet Jack's gaze. For a second, Jack felt like a little boy again, trying to open up to his father but being met with such a cold, wooden reaction that he felt inferior for showing any kind of emotion. He had to remind himself that he was doing this for himself more so than for Heller; he was doing it because it was therapeutic and helped him feel human again. If he felt like he was talking to a brick wall, he told himself, then that should make him feel all the more human by comparison.
But damn it, he'd thought Heller was different. He'd taken Jack under his wing when Jack was vulnerable, shunned by every other employer because of his heroin addiction, struggling to cope with his traumatic experiences, both fresh wounds and festering scars, without the crutch that the drug had provided. He'd appreciated Jack's opinions and made him feel seen and valued in a way Jack hadn't experienced since Richard Walsh. He'd included Jack in both work and social events, showing Jack that he wasn't the outsider he felt he was. The two had even had empathetic conversations about losing their wives, conversations that had genuinely helped Jack heal. Jack had felt better during those months in DC than he had in years, and while most of that had been because of Audrey, Heller had also played a large role. But Jack knew now that he'd been fooled by a politician's manufactured charm, and the realization stung.
"I admired you," Jack admitted out loud. "I looked up to you like a father." The words hurt coming out, pulling at his chest, the earlier elation vanishing as quickly as it had come. "You were the type of man I wanted to be, and you took advantage of it!"
…
When Jack was ten, his father decided he was old enough to mow the lawn. Once a week, he would put on his noise-cancelling headphones, heft the lawnmower out of the garage, and cut the grass in the yard, then do the same for Mrs. Mitchell, the sweet old lady who lived next door. No one had ever asked him to mow his neighbor's lawn; he just noticed one day that her grass was getting long and didn't think twice about helping her out.
Two years later, Mrs. Mitchell moved out and entered assisted living. There was a big estate sale, and she invited Jack and Graem to come take a look at the books and vinyl records to see if there was anything they liked. She refused to accept any payment, instead giving Jack a twenty-dollar bill as a thank you for all the times he had mowed her lawn. He had no idea what a help he had been, she said.
Jack thanked her profusely and ran home with a big smile on his face, feeling like he'd won the lottery. He burst through the front door and ran to his father's study to share the good news.
"That's nice, Jack," was Phillip's reaction when he heard Jack's tale. "But think about how much more money you'd have if you'd just charged her money to mow her lawn from the beginning."
Jack furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why would I charge money to help my neighbor? She's a good lady and she needed help. I was just doing something nice for her. I didn't expect to be paid."
Phillip scoffed. "Jack, look at the size of her house. You think she can't afford to pay you a few dollars to mow her lawn?"
"It's not about if she can afford it or not," Jack replied. "I just wouldn't feel right taking her money. Just like I wouldn't feel right if you paid me to mow our lawn."
"That's because I'm your father, and I've done more for you than you can ever repay," Phillip snapped. "You think you're doing so much good in the world by cutting Mrs. Mitchell's grass for free? You could have done a lot more with the money she would've paid you. Do you know what the stock market is, Jack?"
Jack nodded eagerly, glad to be able to answer one of his father's questions. "It's where you can buy a small piece of a company," he announced confidently.
Phillip shrugged. "Close enough." Jack's shoulders slumped slightly. Why didn't his father ever say 'yes' or 'that's right'?
"Companies have a lot more resources than you do," Phillip continued. "Which means they can also help a lot more people than you ever will. They develop products that improve millions of lives all over the world. And, if you own part of the company, your net worth rises every time they do it."
Jack stared back cautiously. What his father was saying seemed to make sense, but something about it didn't feel right. Charging Mrs. Mitchell money couldn't have been morally superior to cutting her lawn for free… could it?
"You made a mistake, Jack." Phillip's voice hardened, almost accusingly. "You can't take that back. But you can learn your lesson and avoid that mistake in the future." He let the words hang there for a moment, pressing down on his son. "So, what do you want to do with the money Mrs. Mitchell gave you?"
"Invest it," Jack replied slowly. He had wanted to save up for a new bike, but suddenly that seemed like a selfish thing to do.
"Invest in what?" Phillip prompted. "What companies build the kinds of products you want to invest in? What kinds of products save lives?"
Jack thought for a second. "Medicines." He liked the idea of researchers using his money to find cures for diseases. Maybe they'd find a treatment for the one that had killed his mother, the one whose name he could never remember how to pronounce.
"What else?" Phillip pushed. "You have to find a company you trust, because you want them to spend your money responsibly."
"But how do I know which companies to trust?" Jack suddenly felt overwhelmed by the responsibility that had been placed on him. He had never known that there was a right way and a wrong way to spend his money, and from what he could tell, it sounded like there were a lot more wrong ways than right ones.
"There's one company you should always trust," Phillip replied with an intensity that scared Jack a little. "Come on, Jack, think. Who are the people you trust the most in this world?"
Jack's mind raced as he searched for the correct answer. "My family… oh, BXJ."
"Well, Jack?" Phillip continued to pressure. "Do you trust BXJ?"
"Yes, but, Dad…" Jack trailed off, afraid he might upset his father if he phrased this wrong. "Isn't BXJ a weapons company?"
"And you think weapons don't save lives?" Phillip boomed, and Jack fought the urge to back away a few steps. "We just finished a war, Jack. Who do you think was making weapons for our military? Innovating and improving on those weapons so we could stay one step ahead of our enemy? BXJ protects this country and every life in it."
Jack worked up the courage to ask the question that was on his mind. "But how do you know if the people you're selling to will use your weapons to do good things?"
"What, you don't trust my judgment?" Jack flinched, expecting the worst, but to his surprise, his father seemed to collect himself, his tone becoming friendlier. "We sell military-grade weapons, Jack. That means almost all our clients are governments. The US government, and the governments of our allies. That's it. No one else."
Jack let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. That sounded reasonable, and protecting the country was a mission he could get behind. "So how much is a share of BXJ?"
Phillip's eyes lit up. "Let's go check the newspaper."
Jack's innocent twelve-year-old eyes saw a father excited to share his passion with his son. But looking back on the memory decades later, Jack saw a smug carnivore realizing that it had trapped its prey.