15 August 2018

Don't forget to donate to support Nifty!

Email me. Comments, ideas, and suggestions welcome

I love email. If you give me a story line, I'll name a character after you. I really need ideas for fun situations. Get it?

The 'ring, yeah, that one

Morgan here. Dad says I can tell this story. I know I never told the story about the SI interview, but honestly, it was just a long interview. We did make the cover though. The whole family.

I was so disappointed after the Indy NASCAR race. I could have won. I did win two weeks later and ended up winning 7 of the last 10 races. Yeah, baby.

It didn't seem fair for Marco to cover the cost of my ride, since I couldn't run entire seasons, although I was going to try in IndyCar. Mom talked to Marco and suggested an alternative. Rather than me taking a seat in their car, Mom would fund another car, or cars. One NASCAR, one IndyCar. The Andretti team would manage it, build it, and I'd be a part of the teams, they'd just get a fourth car, without dealing with the cost. Since they could get sponsors, they'd actually profit. Mom didn't care. She just wanted me to have fun. I spent the entire Christmas break practicing, in both cars. It was weird to switch back and forth because they were so different. My first IndyCar race was going to be on February 9, but I'll get to that.

We had to rent tracks for me to practice, all around because the weather intruded in Pennsylvania. My favorite was Sebring. Just for fun, we went over to Germany for a weekend and Mom rented the 'Ring. You know, Nürburgring. We took several cars, including the ZR1, a new Camaro ZL1, and the Porsche 911 GT2 RS. Mom took this seriously, and yes it was all Mom. Dad was just along for fun. We made it a family vacation, because, you know, we're weird.

Both Chevy and Porsche sent teams to prep the cars. They each sent a driver, to teach me the line, but fuck'em, I carve my own line. I was running all three cars and I planned on setting records on every one of them. It was going to be quite a race, because all three were brutally fast.

I rode with the factory driver for about 10 laps each. They all carved basically the same line. I spent the 20 laps figuring out MY line. My first car was the Camaro ZL1 because it was the most forgiving. I got up to speed pretty fast, and made minor adjustments to my line, but locked in on it. I pulled in, to cheering of the Chevy crew. I'd set the best time in a ZL1 by 3 seconds. Their driver was watching the video live and came up to me.

"I give you credit for being fast, but you ran the wrong line," he said.

"No, I didn't. Watch me. I'll beat the record for both of the other cars too," I said. "If you can beat my times in either Chevy, today, you can fuck me." Oh hell, he was cute, and I needed to shock him. There wasn't much risk, and hell, I'd fuck him even if he couldn't. I don't think anyone ever told him how old I was, so he really smiled. Of course, it might have had to do with when I stripped down to just my panties to put on my fire suit, in front of everyone. I like my breasts. The audience did too. Mom and Dad weren't even surprised.

I took out the 911, and damn it drove differently. I held to my line and beat the factory driver's best time by a full 4 seconds. He came up after.

"That was amazing," he said, in a thick German accent. "Imagine how fast you could be if you drove the correct line."

"I did," I said. "You don't. I'm better at this than you are, and you need to get used to it." He was a bit shocked, but I watched the video. He took it out and ran my line or tried too. On the fourth turn, he spun it into the hay bales. The car was fine, and he drove it back slowly to have it checked out.

"How the fuck do you drive that line?" he asked, clearly agitated. "I would spin at that spot every time. It's brutal."

"Yeah, you would," I said. "I won't." He walked away shaking his head. That's OK, he wasn't hot enough to fuck.

I was going to run the ZR1 last but told the factory driver to run first. Put up his best lap. He did, and I was impressed. He beat his own record by almost a second and was two seconds off the fastest street legal time ever posted by any car.

I got in and ran one lap, hard, but not too hard, to make sure I knew my perfect line. I pulled in, and I'd match him, almost to the hundredths, but was behind by two hundredths. He was smiling as big as he could, and I could see he was hard, even in his fire suit. He walked up.

"Ready to pay up?" he asked.

"Nope. That was my first run," I said. "I get two. We agreed. I just need a little water." Oh, I wasn't that thirsty. I was fucking with him. I took a drink and got back in.

I pushed it. Hard. Win or go home. I was either going to go off the track, or I was going to obliterate the record. I'd just beaten the track record for production cars in the 911, and in doing so beat the record for non-production cars. The Porsche team were celebrating, knowing the ZR1 couldn't beat it.

They were wrong.

I set the new record at 6:39.88. Better than anyone. Ever. I pulled in to a huge celebration from the Chevy team. The Porsche team was deflated.

"It's OK guys," I said to the Porsche team. "Let me know when you build something faster."

I got slaps on the back from my family and both teams, but the factory Chevy driver looked dejected. Well sure.

I went over and dragged him away from the group.

"That's OK," I said. "You can still fuck me. What's your room number? I'll come tonight." He brightened up and told me.

I did drop in. I did rock his world.

"Damn, this might not be politically correct, but that was the best fuck I have ever had," he said. I smiled. "When can I see you again?"

"Well, I don't have a lot of flexibility," I said, fucking with him. "I mean, I don't even have my driver's license yet."

"What? What do you mean you don't have a driver's license?" he said. "You're the best driver I have ever seen on the 'Ring. No license? What?"

"Well, I am only 15," I said. His face rolled through every possible emotion, including fear.

"It's OK," I said. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

He sat back, stunned.

"You're 15. 15. I just fucked a 15-year-old," he said. "And she was the best fuck of my life. I just don't understand."

"And you never will. Too bad you don't get time with my 11-year-old sisters. The two of them together are even more amazing," I said with a laugh. I left him with that. I could see from his expression that he was working from a mental image. He'd met Leslie and Chris today. He actually moaned. He was an OK fuck, but not a 'introduce him to my sisters' fuck. Hell, Gabe had better skills. He knew how to please a woman.

With that, I got up, dressed and left, blowing him a kiss on my way out.

We had the track again the next day, and I was going to try to improve my time. The German team had texted me that they'd been up all night and had a plan that would let them beat the ZR1. I was confident they didn't, unless they were cheating, because I wrung their car out. But I'd listen. Today was also the day Mom was going to run her wagon. We'd brought it with us. She'd tuned it back, a bit, from her 9 second 1/4-mile run because that was too peaky to drive safely. It was still tuned though but would compete for the fastest 4 door car title. The number one car was modified and did the ring in 7:32. Slow compared to the ZR1, but impressive for a big car. We both knew I'd run it faster but Mom is a damn good driver. Better than anyone else in the family. If she could lock up number one, I wouldn't drive it. If she couldn't, I'd give it a shot. I knew she could. I ridden with her for several laps yesterday and coached her on the line. Not my line. The line she could run. They were different.

We wanted to go early, before the track got too hot, so we were up with the sun. The Porsche team was already there. They called me over. They had a large map of the course and had plotted their drivers' line and my line. Oh great. They thought they knew the line better. They had a theory on one sweeping corner and how we'd gain enough to beat the ZR1.

They were wrong. Oh, they were right that it would be faster for their driver, just slower than my line. I told them this and they wanted to argue.

"Listen," I said. "You're wrong. When your driver can do an entire run on MY line, we'll talk. Otherwise, it's not about the line. Mine is best. Period." That ruffled their feathers, but what did I care?

Mom was all suited up. The plan was a couple test laps, and I'd ride along. Then I'd get out and she'd run it alone. It's not like my 115 pounds was going to make a difference, but this was her run. We ran the first one and she was fast. She was within 4 seconds of the fastest 4-door lap. Good, but not good enough. We looked at the map and I told her the spots she could get on the power earlier and where she could brake later. We did another run, and she was 0.3 shy of the new record. Close. We looked at the map again, and I focused on two corners. She wasn't being aggressive enough and was braking early. Because of the turbo lag, she was coming out too slow too. She needed to punch it before she thought she should. That's it. No more advice. Off on your own Mom.

I watch the tape later and she was fucking nuts. She late braked, just a bit, every damn corner. I don't think even I would have done that. It is a testament to Mercedes brakes, but when she came in, they were toast. She'd managed to roast ceramic brakes. You could smell them before she stopped. Well done Mom.

The important part? She blew away the record by 11 seconds. She improved by 11 seconds in ONE RUN. Oh, we were going to celebrate this one.

The Porsche guys asked to watch the video. They came back later and said they didn't find anything they could apply. The lead engineer ended with a stream of German. I asked what he said. His colleague laughed and said: "He said your mom is fucking insane and he's not surprised she burned up the brakes. He also said he was impressed as hell". Yep, that summed it up.

We were done with Germany, leaving Chevy with the win. I actually heard the Porsche engineer arguing with his boss that they needed a new model with more power. A new model. Sure. I like horsepower wars.

We loaded up the cars and headed to London. Why London? I don't know. We'd done Venice and Paris, why not London? Mom had the 'buy a place in London look'. Dad knew it, but it was her money too and he didn't care. He really did consider it their money, even though he'd originally earned it. Theirs. I loved them both.

We landed at Heathrow by mid-afternoon.

It was just the immediate family, since Leslie has been flying the 767 so much, so there wasn't this wild group like we usually have. It was actually kind of nice. Amai had arranged a car service and a beautiful Rolls Royce limo was waiting. Well, we were in London. Mom knew only one place she wanted to see, so she suggested we all come along. We were met at the house by the realtor, who introduced us to the live-in butler. A butler, seriously? Apparently if we wanted him to stay on, he would. I don't know about anybody else, but he was 6'4" (193 cm) of beefcake, so I was on board. The house was weird but cool. Kind of narrow and tall. A basement, then the staff quarters and a nice gym, then the kitchen and dining room, then the living room, then the master, then two bedrooms, the two more bedrooms, then a cool attic bedroom. So, six bedrooms, each with a full bath. The gym had a full bath and there was a half bath on the kitchen, dining, and living room floors. They liked bathrooms. Oh, and a two-car garage, which is apparently rare. 8, count'em 8, floors. Oh, with an elevator, of course. Of course.

I loved it. A lot. I wanted the attic room, but so did everyone else. OK, Mom and Dad would take the master. We decided we'd just trade off. Hell, we knew we'd be bed swapping.

OK, I'll be honest, it is hard to do this house justice in a description. It's in a garden. It's stunning. It's in Hyde park, so a short walk through the park to Buckingham Palace.

Mom and Dad decided to make an offer. They let us listen and learn. The asking price, in dollars, was $47 million. Mom had done her homework and felt like they both needed the money and had overpriced it. Apparently, the instant gratification of money wired immediately had a powerful impact.

"OK," said Mom, to the realtor. "It's very nice. Not perfect, but nice. It's overpriced and we both know it. The owner is also cash strapped. Daniel is certainly out of a job in weeks if it doesn't sell. We're not sure about Daniel, but willing to see if he is a fit. We're particular about our family, and we treat everyone as family. So, we can offer $35 million, wired within the hour, with immediate occupancy. As in, we sleep here tonight. We'll take the furnishings, but if they want anything, they can have them. It's, well, overdone. Most will go to charity."

"Well, I don't know if I can make an offer so low," said the realtor.

"Well then, you're fired," said Mom. "We'll find a realtor that is working for us. Have a nice day." The look of panic was huge. He blew it and he knew it.

"Wait, wait, I might have spoken too soon," he said.

"Yes, you did, and don't make that mistake again," said Mom. You go Mom. "We will not negotiate. There are other homes. We need a decision in the next 15 minutes, or we're out of here and you are fired. We'll wander the lower floors while you call. Find us."

Wow, that was quite an experience. We all split up and wandered around. I wonder where Chris is? I haven't seen her in a bit. Mom and I wandered down stairs to the gym, which is just outside Daniel's room. Just then the door opened, and Chris walked out. She had cum in her hair. Daniel walked out, without a shirt on, and saw Mom and clearly started to panic.

"He's a good fuck, Mom," said Chris. Just then Orlando walked out of Daniel's room.

"Yeah, he is," said Orlando.

OK then. Daniel looked like he was about to flee.

"Well, Daniel," said Mom. "It seems like you enjoy children. Are you discreet about it or will you be telling all your friends?"

"Oh ma'am, I am an English butler," he said. "There is no one more discreet. Is there anything I can do for you ma'am?"

"Why yes, Daniel," she said. She walked past him into his room, and he followed closing the door. Just then the realtor called down. We walked up and Dad was with him. Dad gave us a funny look, and we just shook our heads. He got it.

"Well?" said Dad.

"They accepted, much to my surprise," he said. "I think they believe you won't be able to meet the payment deadline and then they can negotiate. Here's the bank info", handing Dad a sheet of paper. He handed it to me.

Sure, Dad. I pulled out my phone and brought up our bank app. I filled in the info and pressed the pay button. I think we wore this app out. No more texting Jason. We were automated now. Just then the realtor's phone buzzed.

"Damn," he said, then looked embarrassed. "Well, you own a London home."

Yes, we do. Just then Mom came upstairs, all flushed. You go Mom. That was fast, but she does cum quickly.

So, we owned a house in London. Mom and Dad shook the realtor's hand and accepted the keys and he left. Just then Daniel came upstairs.

"Let's talk," said Mom. I'll let her take over.

Daniel's a hard one

"So, Daniel, you like little girls and boys," I said.

"Well, um," he mumbled.

"No, it's OK," I said. "The problem isn't your fucking them, it's discretion. We are ALL about discretion. You mentioned that butlers are discreet, but are you? This discreet?"

"Ma'am, I am. I know I shouldn't have," he said. "But I did. It was awesome, as were you ma'am. I will not tell a soul. Who would I tell?"

"Well, first off, stop calling me ma'am," I said. "I am Amy, and he is Bob. You'll need to learn the kid's names, maybe before you fuck them. We know there's butler shit, so talk that way when you must, but not when it is just us or our friends. The job is just to keep this place running. We'll be here or our friends will be here occasionally. The job does not require sex, but it is welcome. In our family no means no."

"Thank you, ma'am. I mean Amy," he said. "This will take getting used to. It's just not done. But you're the boss."

"So, what is your current pay?" I asked. He named a figure that was clearly too low. I did the math in my head, so it might not have been exactly right, but I shot for about our normal $150K, but in pounds. He was clearly shocked.

"That's, um, unusual," he said.

"Yes, it is," I said. "But we can afford it and prefer loyalty. Earn it and you become family." For some reason, I was a little rougher on Daniel, I don't know why. Maybe I am just not used to the British. He will need to grow on us.

He beamed. "I am at your command," he said.

"Good because we're all starved," I said. "Find us something that can be delivered. Join us for lunch."

Which is how we all ended up at the big, but damn ugly, table eating excellent Thai food. Apparently, we're Thai food people now. We learned more about Daniel and shared our standard spiel about how family, which clearly intrigued him. He really was a nice guy and we really got to like him quickly.

"So, Daniel, do you have car?" Bob asked.

"Oh no Bob," he said. "They're wildly expensive here and gas is off the charts. Public transit isn't too bad."

"Well, you need a car. So do we," said Bob. "Is there a Mercedes dealer nearby?"

"Why yes, within walking distance," said Daniel.

"Good, lead the way," said Bob. "And over the next few days buy yourself a car. Something worthy of this house. Spend a few hundred thousand. Gas and insurance are on us. Use it. Tour the countryside. If the house is not occupied, have fun. In fact, we would like a country home too. Why don't you look for one? Keep it under a hundred million. No, that's limiting. Keep it under two hundred million. Find someplace that spends it all." Daniel looked shocked. Bob didn't even tell him pounds or dollars. Didn't matter.

"Oh, don't look shocked," said Bob. "Get used to it. Whatever our friends want, they get. If it crosses a million dollars, ask. Otherwise do it."

We did walk over to the Mercedes dealer. Yes, they had a GLS63 and yes, we bought it. Daniel mentioned they had his dream car too, on the showroom floor. A matte white S65 convertible. Wildly impractical in London. We bought it too.

Oh, we christened our new home.

We had to initiate Daniel, didn't we? He's had some girl fun, so it was boy fun time. Daniel showed his prowess and both Orlando and Bob were, well, filled up. Great fun to watch. Oh, the girls entertained themselves too.

Then we left for Florida.

A seamstress?

The young woman arrived and holy fuck. She took after Morgan and was wearing tight cheer shorts, but with a mesh bikini top. You know, the kind you see in magazines where you see everything, and the nipples poke through. Yeah, that mesh. Oh, and they were nice nipples. Nice erect nipples. I welcomed her into our home, and just couldn't resist and ran my palm across a breast.

She moaned.

"I like the mesh," I said.

"Everybody does," she replied. "My name is Mia. I'm here to help." With that, she reached out and stroked my cock through my shorts. I liked Mia.

I showed her back to the studio and she setup in the corner. The kids came in and introduced themselves.

"No, no," said Chris. "The sewing machine should be by the bed. It, and you, need to be in the shots. You'll model with us, won't you?" She bit her lip and nodded. Oh good. Amy came in and we did another round of intros.

The kids laid many of the clothes on the bed. Mesh bikinis, mesh for the boys, and men, see-thru of every shape and size, crotchless panties. Bras with nipple cuts outs. Men's, and boy's, underwear with holes so their cock came through. A lot of options. Much of the afternoon as everyone trying things on, with many photoshoots. Mia participated in every way possible. If a cock came out a hole, that cock went in another hole. If panties were crotchless, someone licked, then someone fucked. Mia had talent and was insatiable. She spent most of the time naked, in all the photographs. Some of the best were her measuring Gabe, Leslie, and Ruby, and fitting their outfits, including all the sewing. It was simply amazing. Use your imagination, and it won't be enough.

My favorite of the day had Mia in a mesh bikini. Gabe was fucking her, through the mesh, while Mia was rubbing Orlando's cock, which was encased in sheer satin panties. Yes, panties. He came, hard, and it oozed through the fabric. The photos were amazing, especially the shots of Mia slowly licking it up as it oozed through. Damn.

Another favorite had Ruby in a sheer bra. Yes, a bra on a girl with no tits. Her nipples were very visible. She was posed ON Bob, with his hard cock sunk in her. Slowly she started moving up and down. The photos caught it well, but the video was even better. She was facing his feet, which was where the camera was. At the last minute, she lifted off and sat on his stomach and aimed his cock at her little sheer bra. We have a wonderful photo of a big blob of cum making the bra even more transparent, right over her nipple. The final shots showed Leslie sucking the cum out of the fabric and nibbling on Ruby's nipple in the process.

We had to have Mia back.

It is time to give back

"Do you know that every single time you walk up I am in awe?" I said. "I am truly the luckiest man in the world and don't deserve you."

"Of course, I know that," said Amy. "I can read your mind."

Well, at least she finally admitted it. She sat down and, well, I enjoyed the view. I always do.

"I've been thinking," she said. "The world, and particularly this country, is on fire. We have limited ability to directly change that because neither one of us is willing to run for office, but we can help those that need our help."

Wow. This is eerie. I was just thinking that.

"I know you've been thinking something like this too," she said.

Stop it! Get out of my brain! Ok, I didn't say that, but she did give me a little smirk. Uh oh. Could she? Ok let's move past that.

"You do know I think that. We have stupid money. But how do we help without being taken advantage of?" I asked.

"I have been working on that," she said. "I don't think we should make big grants and let other people decide that to do. They'd just skim and not directly help."

While I am sure there are many amazing charities, it was a risk.

"I think we should do it through a charity called Modest Needs," she said. "They..."

I held up my hand to stop here.

"I've been giving to Modest Needs since I was 15," I said. "I admit I have fallen off, but agree they are amazing. What do you have in mind?"

{Note to readers: Modest Needs is a legitimate charity. Check it out.}

"Well, I've talked to Jason. I think we setup a charity and fund it with an initial grant. Then we hire a small staff to work with Modest Needs to find the neediest people with the lowest likelihood of getting funded. We will ensure they're legit and fund their entire campaign. It will take work to prevent fraud, but we can do some good," she said. "We will give our team a threshold they can fund, and anything bigger comes to a family member. You, me or the kids. If we like it, it happens. Any of us can say yes."

"I like it," I said. "Have you thought through the details?"

"A bit," she said. "But the first thing is to hire someone to run it that we're can trust, in every way. Someone that has non-profit experience. I think we start with a $5 billion donation. Let Jason continue to invest the money. Even with modest, no pun intended, growth, it should allow around $250 million in donations a year. Most requests are small. We could easily help over a million people a year. I think we should call it the Hayden foundation."

Wow, that sat me back in my chair. I actually felt a tear run down my face. I looked over at Amy and she was in full cry. You see Chris' last name is Hayden. Amy was suggesting we name it after her parents. Chris hadn't change her name and we completely supported that.

"Well I'm certainly in, but you don't need me to be. It's your money too. It's not like that is a big dent. So, what's the next step?" I asked.

"Several things. I think we hire Masako. We know her and like her. She runs a small non-profit that is trying to help local families and they're struggling. Their approach is similar, but their funding is small. I would suggest they become the Hayden Foundation but on a much grander scale. We can commit maybe 10% to the local area," she said. "If she is on board, we go to New York to meet with the folks from Modest Needs. Jason has already made overtures, without details, and they're happy to meet."

"Oh, one more thing. The Hayden foundation should be open to donations. No reason not to," she added. "We do have friends that can help. If you're OK, I thought we might ask some of our friends to do PSA ads. Michelle, Scarlett, Oprah, Bill, Warren. You get the idea. We could run them on radio and TV. Build the fund."

I don't know which Bill she meant. Probably Clinton or Gates. Maybe both. Yeah, our life was weird.

"I'm in," I said. "What's next?"

"We talk to the kids tonight," she said. "Masako will be here tomorrow at 10. I already called her. I knew you'd be in."

Well, I'd jump into a volcano for Amy, so a charity was a reasonable expectation. For the first time ever, we asked our team for a private dinner. We say in the dining room which startled the kids. Alison served then left.

"Ok, something is up," said Morgan. "Spill."

Well, at least she couldn't read my mind. Amy outlined the idea. Everything except the name. The kids were immediately in and wanted to help, particularly in reading the larger requests. None of the requests were for more than a few thousand so we didn't need to approve. They could.

"That all sounds great, but why did that require a private dinner?" asked Morgan.

"There is one more thing," said Amy. I knew where she was going, and a tear spilled out. Leslie noticed and gave me a quizzical look. I just shook my head.

"With Chris' permission, we would like to call it the Hayden Foundation," said Amy.

I couldn't hold back. Yes, men can cry. Chris was clearly shocked. The other kids and Amy were crying. Chris jumped up and hugged Amy, then hugged me. By the time she got to me, she was crying too. I pulled her up on my lap and held her tight and we cried on each other's shoulders. We sat like that for a while. Finally, she climbed off and sat back in her chair.

She cleared her throat and said: "I would be honored. Can I do the first ad? I'll write it myself."

And she did. That night. She and the kids edited it and showed it to us. And it was amazing. She is standing against a simple white wall, wearing a conservative blue dress.

"My name is Chris and I'm here to talk to you about the Hayden Foundation. It is named after my parents, who were killed in an accident last year, leaving me an orphan. I have been blessed to be adopted by an amazing family. So amazing they started this foundation in my parent's name. These are difficult times. We have partnered with Modest Needs to help those that need help and cannot find it any other way. My new family started the foundation with a significant gift, but we can help more. If you can help, please do. You can find out more at ... or ... Thank you."

I cry every time I see it. I cried when I wrote this.

We immediately shared the ad with our friends. You know, those friends. They shared it with their friends and their friends. When we woke up, over 500 people donated over a million dollars. Each. Over 100 of those donated over 10 million. Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, and Warren Buffet each donated $250 million. We added another 2 billion plus through word of mouth. In one night.

Then almost all of them asked if they could do an ad. Every single one wanted to do a variation of Chris' script, with Chris. That made her both laugh and cry. Masako arrived a few minutes before 10 and Amy pitched her the broad outlines. She didn't take much convincing.

"You are our saviors. We were folding at the end of the month. The current political climate dried up donations. It's all me, me. So, I'm in. Big time. So is my team. We are small, just four of us but you'll like them all. Let me make sure that was clear. You'll LIKE them all," said Masako.

Oh. What a nice side benefit.

"Perhaps this is crass, but may I ask about your initial donation?" she asked.

"Not crass at all. You're the boss," said Amy. "We started with $5 billion."

"Surely you mean $5 million," she said.

"B. It was a B," said Amy, with a smile.

She sat back on the couch muttering "with a B." We do that to people. Then we showed her Chris' video and the fact that we had raised over two billion more, overnight. That got another shocked reaction. Not sure if it was the money or the names. She asked if we could come meet her team. Our calendars were busy doing nothing, so we suggested right then.

"Why not take them to lunch?" said Amy. "What's a really nice place near your office that will accept the fact we are in shorts?"

She named a modest chain restaurant.

"No, a nice one. One you and the team might not go to. Ever," said Amy. "It is going to take a bit, but you'll get used to the fact we live differently."

She finally named a nice restaurant we had been meaning to try. Not quite upscale, but nice. Amy shouted, yes shouted, for Amai. She was used to it and came out.

"Get us reservations please for lunch for 7 please," said Amy, naming the place. "Can you come along? We will probably need your help." Amy had briefed her on the charity and, yes, she cried too.

"Sure, and sure," said Amai. "I'll make the reservations and pull a car around and meet you in front in 10." She headed back to her office.

"Wow, she is stunning," said Masako. "Does she?"

"Oh yes," replied Amy. "Oh yes. You'll really like her. She is a friend of Juanita's"

"Juanita's? You mean?" she said.

"Oh yes," I replied.

"Oh," she said. I think she drooled a little.

Our time was up so we stepped outside. Masako left in her car. Amai was at the wheel of the GLS63. Amy got in beside her and, surprise, I was relegated to the back. Apparently where I belonged. We drove across the bridge into Tampa to the restaurant. Amai had scored a private room. When we wandered in, there were three people plus Masako already there. This charity clearly had rules that you had to be very attractive to be an employee. They all started with questions, but Masako shushed them and did introductions.

Emily was in charge of grant review.

Bo was in charge of fund raising.

Beth was the office manager and all around everything. She and Bo had a friendly competition on who could raise the most. Neither one was burning it up, given they were running out of money.

We sat down and ordered and then Masako asked Amy to share the story. She did. Yes, another case of bedlam around us. Even Amai was shocked. Beth kept muttering "with a B". This group had just been entrusted with huge responsibility. I hope they handled it well.

"Before we go on, I did have one more thing to share," said Masako. "They haven't told their whole story, so I'll tell a little of it. They have four kids. Girls 15, 11, and 11 and a boy 13. My family is VERY good friends with their entire family."

Yeah, they were quick on the uptake and all three of us got new looks. Beth couldn't take her eyes off Amai. Hope she liked surprises.

Let's just say it was good it was a private room. I won't go into too many details, but let's just say we wore out Bob and Bo. First, they had to pleasure the four women, then we insisted on them fucking each other. We women love to watch a man fuck another man in the ass. Don't let women tell you otherwise. It's an awesome sight. Oh yeah, wore out Amai too. Amai is fun. Bob too, of course.

The next morning Chris, Amy, Masako, and I flew up to New York. Chris had to come. It was her charity. Amy and I both strongly believe that. We had an afternoon meeting at Modest Needs. I actually wore pants which is a step up for me. We got in early so Alison flew us to the apartment to drop our stuff. Blake came along and they were going to sightsee then we would spend the night and head home. We dropped in our favorite Thai place for lunch but limited ourselves to one bottle of wine. Masako was a little confused why the owner and his wife both hugged Amy and me, so we shared a little of the story. They had both joined us for lunch.

"He doesn't even know the rest," said the owner, which got him a quizzical look from both Amy and me.

"I talked to Antonio this morning. We have become friends over the phone," he said. "They put this program in two more cities. Paris and Venice. They are officially at max capacity."

"Oh, we fixed that," said Amy. "We bought the bigger winery next door."

"That is with the bigger winery," said the owner. Ok, that caught us both by surprise.

"I should not steal his surprise, but he is going to propose buying two more competitors nearby. Both are larger than your current holdings," he said.

Amy pulled out her phone. She showed me the text she was about to send. She showed it to our restaurant friends too.

"Buy them both. We trust you."

"He is going to think you can read minds," said the wife.

Does she? Does she?

We took an Uber to our meeting. It was in a midrange office in a middling part of town. Just what you would hope for in a charity. They were, in fact, modest and it was an open area with maybe 15 desks. The person we saw first shouted for the person with whom we were to meet, and he got up from one of the desks in the middle.

"Hi, I'm Jay," he said. "Welcome to Modest Needs." He was genuinely warm and ushered us to the table in the corner. No walls here. After we all declined coffee, we sat down.

"I did a little homework, as you can expect, but don't know much other than the obvious. You're young, you have kids almost your age, and you're stupid wealthy," he said. "Seemed like enough to take a meeting." He laughed and so did we.

Amy did our short family spiel. She also introduced Masako and her role leading our new foundation. She explained why it was called the Hayden Foundation and showed Jay the video Chris had made. Yes, I teared up and so did Jay. Chris was both embarrassed and proud.

"That is a stunning video and I am so sorry for your loss Chris, but it sounds like you have some joy in your new life," he said, turning to Amy and me. "You adopted her in a day without even knowing her. You're good people."

We worked out the details of how we would work together. He called over his web coordinator, who looked 12, and agreed on an update to their privacy disclosure which would allow us access to their data to make decisions. None of their personal data beyond what we needed.

"Ok, I guess I should ask the obvious," said Jay. "You mentioned you made a donation and some of your friends had too. Are we in the thousands? Maybe a million?"

Amy held up a finger.

"Let me check the current balance. Oh, looks like some more donations came in," she said.

"Didn't you say you opened yesterday?" he said. "You already have donations?"

"The current balance in the account is a little over $7.2 billion," said Amy. "We donated $5 billion. The rest is donations."

Jay and the web kid looked shocked.

"Surely you mean millions," said the web kid. I finally got to talk.

"B," I said. I am a man of few words.

"Let me get this right. You have had 2.2 billion in donations. Overnight," he said.

"Nope. Just went up. Its 8.2 billion now," said Amy. "Jeff Bezos just donated a billion this morning. Larry Ellison donated a billion late last night and we haven't even met him. Oh wait. It just jumped another $2.2 billion. Oh, got it. Warren, Bill, and Mark just upped their donations to match Larry and Jeff. We are at $10.4 billion."

Oh hell, even I was shocked. And this was with the limitation that we would not accept foreign money. If I was shocked, Jay was almost in a coma. Amy explained that the fund needed to be perpetual, so we would spend the growth. She shared that was likely around $600 million a year but would go up. She also shared that 10% would go to the Tampa area but that would probably grow to include Florida as the funds went up.

"We need to start active fundraising," said Amy. That actually got a laugh from the entire group. Jeff asked if he could tell his team. It was getting late, so we suggested dinner. He was concerned we couldn't find a place that quickly, but Amy texted Amai and it took her less than 15 minutes, including spouses and partners that could join. I finally had one question to ask.

"How much is your staff paid?" I asked.

Jay shared that the pay was very modest, but they all did it out of passion.

"No one should be underpaid for doing good things," I said. "Effective immediately, Amy and I will fund your office expenses. Get better space. Get better furniture. Don't go wild, but don't skimp. This is New York. Let's set the minimum salary at $150K. Figure out salaries up from there. Let's set the top at a half million for you Jay. This is outside Hayden. We will figure out the best method, so donors realize it isn't coming from them. Our financial guy can figure it out. Announce it at dinner."

"Oh, do the same for your team Masako. Half million for you too," I said. Amy just smiled at me. Stupid money had its uses.

Jay just sat there slack jawed. He started to protest as did Masako, but Amy waved them off.

"Stop," said Amy. "To quote a modern philosopher, no one should be underpaid for doing good things."

Hey, she did listen to me. Or did she implant those words in my brain? What were her powers? We had a glorious dinner with some very excited people with their spouses and partners. And yes, we kept our wines flowing. We made it back to apartment fairly early, around 9, and Blake and Alison left a note they were in the little apartment. Masako hadn't seen anything yet because we just had time to drop our stuff in the living and run out. Amy started down the stairs and I asked her to wait. I sent a short text and got an immediate reply. Shortly the elevator opened as the person I texted stopped out, with a couple friends. Robert, Scarlett, and Chadwick stepped out. Masako swooned. Yep swooned. We did the introductions and Scarlett wandered into the wine room and came out with a couple bottles. I did text Alison and Blake to see if they wanted to come up but no response.

"You guys open the wine," said Robert. I'm going to show Masako the walls. Come on." He set off towards the stairs and she hopped up to follow.

"He does like the walls," said Scarlett and we all laughed.

We sat around and visited, and they returned about 45 minutes later.

"Yeah, he really loves those walls," said Chadwick.

We had a pleasant night, and everyone headed home. Well, except I spent it alone. Masako was worn out, understandably, and went to bed. Amy went to visit her friend Scarlett and I went to bed alone. Dammit. About midnight, I woke up to someone climbing in the bed. On both sides. Oh, Amy had brought a friend. We didn't get much more sleep. Let's just say I'll enjoy the movies more. We headed home the next morning but before we did, I got a text.

"I do love the walls. 6 tickets. Premiere. Black tie. Next Friday. See you and the family there. You're sitting with me and Scarlett."

Weird just went up a notch.

On to Hollywood

"Wait one."

Almost exactly a minute later I got another text.

"Friend has plenty of room. Wants to meet you. You can stay with him. You'll meet him at the premiere."

No matter how many times I asked he wouldn't tell me who. He did text.

"Private party after. Plan on it."

Sure, why not. Amai was so excited for us. I texted Robert.

"Need one more ticket. Our assistant. Friend of Juanita's. Possible?"

He texted back in about ten minutes.

"Sure. Had to rearrange seats. Jeffery is a little pissed. Friend of Juanita's. Damn."

The week was fairly uneventful. We did experiment with photoshoots outside of the bedroom. We did one where Chris and Leslie baked cookies. Naked. Flour was flying and butter is a surprising good lubricant. Very fun. Very sexy.

It's nice to make new friends

For us, we were dressed up. Leslie had flown Orlando and me to Nassau and they had made us amazing tuxedos. The women felt they were all set. Amy wore the green dress. Yes, THAT green dress. Morgan wore her sundress. You know the one. Leslie and Chris looked amazing but didn't get crazy. They didn't look 11 but were reasonably modest. Amy had shopped with Amai and she looked stunning. Amai had a hair team, yes, a hair team, at our plane in the afternoon. We had brought all the jewelry, so we sparkled.

Amai had arranged a Bentley limo. Robert had asked us to text when we got in the line and describe our car. When we pulled up, our door was opened not by security but by Sam. You know, Samuel L. Jackson. Well, sure. He walked up the red carpet with us and you could tell the crowd was confused. Several people tried to interview us, and Sam waved them all off. We got in the door and Sam started laughing.

"That was fun. They're all out there trying to figure out who the fuck you are," said Sam. "I love it."

Amai was shocked, confused, and shy. We knew probably a third of the people there, including most of the Avengers and introduced her. The others somehow knew who we were and often introduced themselves. It was amazing. Will Smith and Brad Pitt introduced themselves. Hey guys, we know who you are. I saw movement and saw Harrison Ford walking towards us, quickly. He walked up and stuck his hand out. To Leslie. She reacted quickly and shook his hand.

"Hi Leslie, my name is Harrison," he said. "I am so pleased to finally meet you. I have been following your accomplishments. We share a love of flying." He turned to Chris and stuck out his hand again.

"And you must be Chris. I understand you were recently jet certified too," he said. She just nodded.

"Tell me, is it true the two of you piloted your 767 out here yesterday?" he said. "Just the two of you?" That broke the ice and Leslie was on comfortable ground. They chatted about flying and after a few minutes the light flashed.

"Oh, we must go in, but we will have plenty of time to chat," he said. "You and your family are staying with me tonight. We must fly tomorrow."

Staying at Harrison's house. Sure. The movie was wonderful. The party afterward was too. Suddenly I saw Robert pushing Chris to the front of the room, over her objections. I started up just as she turned to him and nodded. They stood up at the front just as a big screen lit up. She stood there, embarrassed as her video played. It brought down the house. Everybody clapped. With that, Robert was handed a mic, but he handed it right to Chris.

"Well this is embarrassing," she said, and the entire room laughed. She had made Hollywood's elite laugh and it calmed her.

"I don't know what else to add. My family started the Hayden Foundation and many people have been generous. If you have it in your heart, please feel free to donate. Thank you," she said, and handed the mic to Robert.

"I already donated $10 million but I am raising that to $25 million right now. I have a pen and paper. If you want to donate tonight, come write down your name, cell, and amount and I'll give it to Chris, and someone will contact you. Give big." He ended to a round of applause.

Which is how, at the end of the night, Chris got in the car with a stack of paper. Over 400 people had donated. The smallest number I saw was a million, but the average was easily 10. There were several 25s and one 100, from George fucking Lucas. We tallied it up later and the average was over $20 million. Yes, $8 billion. I texted Masako. Probably woke her up. Turns out you can scream in a text. Harrison and the girls did fly, most of the day. Harrison took the girls up in his biplane and they loved it. Open to the sky. I would never, ever do it. Midday the girls took him up in our plane. They flew for an hour or so, over the ocean, and then we went to lunch. Harrison was almost giddy.

"It was amazing," he said. "These two young girls flying this monstrous plane. The air traffic controllers called them by name. Apparently, every aircraft controller knows them. Nationwide. I fucking love it."

Well they do too, Harrison.

At lunch the conversation wandered, and he mentioned he would be shooting a movie over next month in New York. We mentioned we had a place in New York, and he invited us to visit the set. He also shared he was having a tough time finding a place to rent since the shoot was only 3 weeks.

"We can fix that," said Amy. "You can have our smaller apartment. It's only four bedrooms but if that is OK, it's yours. It's right below Scarlett and Robert's places.

"Wait, do you own the place above them too?" he asked. "Robert won't stop talking about the walls." We laughed and said that was us.

Wait, wait," he said. "OMG. This is perfect. In the movie I am a grandfather who finds himself raising two young girls. 11 and 12. It is all about their relationship and is really tender. We have screen tested every young actress in LA and New York. The well-known ones are too well-known, and it just doesn't work. We tried lesser known actresses, but they're intimidated and stiff. Leslie and Chris must take the parts. They must."

Wait, what?

"It is a small piece, set around New York. Filming is over three weeks. It is a fast shoot and very informal. Oh, they must. I must call Steven and tell him our problem is solved."

More bedlam.

"Steven?" said Leslie. THAT was her first question, but it seems like it was a good one.

"You know, Steven," said Harrison. "Spielberg. He is producing and directing."

I looked at Amy and she just shrugged and pointed at the girls. Yep. Their call, for sure. I thought they'd scream, but they were quiet and looked at each other.

"Do you really think we can do it?" asked Leslie. "We have never acted."

Harrison laughed.

"I have heard the story about how you got the head of training at Cessna fired. I have heard the story about how you took down the FAA. Hell, he tells the story. I know Chris won her racing class by a huge margin. I have seen your poise landing a wide body jet at LAX and your joy in a biplane that would scare the living shit out of most people. Hell, you both made me let you fly. We took a ride in my helicopter and you made me fly right seat," said Harrison. "The entire premise of the movie is the "set in his ways old man" dealing with two powerful young women and how it changes his entire view of the world. You are both perfect. Just perfect. At least read with me for Steven. I'll give you the scripts. Hell, we will make your names Leslie and Chris if you want."

"Tomorrow. You must stay over. You must," he said. So, we went back to his house. They spent the evening learning the key scene where the girls confront their grandfather and his attitudes. They both stand up to him. At the beginning he starts to object but they tell him to be quiet and listen. We watched them run through it three times and it kept getting better. Finally, he took their scripts.

"One more time," he said. "I'm supposed to be in a chair and you're standing over me."

He walked into the living room and sat down and waved them over. We sat off to the side.

He positioned Amy and me at an angle on opposite sides.

"Record it. With your phones," he said, so we did.

The girls asked for their scripts.

"No scripts. You know it well enough. The exact words don't matter. Your passion does," he said.

So, they ran through it and we captured it.

Fucking wow.

When they were done, Harrison stood and hugged them.

"You will be competing for the Oscar. They might have to award two. I must have Steven come over. Right now," said Harrison.

Which is how we found ourselves in Harrison's home theater watching both Amy's and my version. We finished and the lights came up. Steven and Harrison just sat there.

"My God," said Steven. "That might be the most amazing thing I have ever seen. The power, the force. You cowed Harrison and I don't think he was acting. That will change young women's lives. I have worked with hundreds of young actresses and not one could have done either part better. None could have done it as well. You changed his life. Hell, you changed mine. I sure hope you can do that again."

"Say. Orlando, you are 13 and Morgan you're 15, right?" said Steven. They answered they were.

Steven looked at Harrison. Harrison walked into the other room and came back, paging through a script. He found his spot and handed it to Morgan. He found the same page and handed it to Orlando.

"These are the girl's best friend's in the building. They're pissed at each other as Orlando has feelings for Leslie, and Morgan wants him to back off, because she is 12. He disagrees because she is a powerful young woman. It is quite an argument. Orlando, can you pretend you have those feelings for Leslie?" said Steven. Orlando just nodded.

"Read it, just once. Let's see how you are raw," said Steven. The kids went into the corner and read it. We could see them mouth some of the words and make some hand motions. After about 15 minutes, they came back.

"You left the scripts," said Harrison.

"We don't need them," said Morgan. "You said the words didn't have to be perfect just the passion."

"That I did," said Harrison. "But you read it once."

"Mom and Dad, please record it. Let's do it in the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen table," said Morgan.

"It is supposed to be in a living room," said Steven.

"Well, that's wrong," said Orlando, which got a smile out of both men. We followed them into the kitchen and Amy and I started recording.

What happened next was a tour de force. They went from calm to angry in a heartbeat. It was a solid 15-minute scene and they did it in one take. It wasn't acting. It was real. It was passionate. In the end, there was no winner. It was a stalemate and the scene ended with them both, with jaws set, glaring at each other. We all just sat there stunned, even Morgan and Orlando. It was that powerful. Finally, Steven spoke.

"The girls will compete for best actress. You two will compete for best supporting actress and best supporting actor. I am sad to say that only three of you can win, but I do know this," said Steven. "If you can create those performance through the entire movie, we will all be on stage collecting the best picture award. Whichever of you is slighted by the academy can take that home, until you win for your next movie."

Did I hear all that about our children from Steven Spielberg? With Harrison Ford agreeing with every word. Oh hell, I agreed. It. was. amazing.

"Wait," said Steven and he and Harrison went into the next room then came back.

"I want this movie out. Girls need this movie. It will be life changing. It will save lives. I would like to start filming, in New York, on Monday. We will work with you to learn your script as we go, but given what I just saw, I don't think it matters. I'm tempted to just describe the scene and let you do it. In fact, I think I will do that. If we have to stop for you to learn a scene we will. I have a reason to move fast," said Steven. "If we complete it in January, and we can, I will commit to having it edited by Mid-March. That will let us submit it to Cannes. We will premiere it there. It will win, hands down. It's early in the year for an Oscar contender, but the world needs this film."

Which is how we ended up in New York, after explaining the situation to the principals of both schools. They didn't quite understand it, but they agreed to it. Morgan had to practice on the weekends because her first IndyCar race was February 9th. They worked around that and gave her days off too. None of them ever read the script. I have no idea how close their performance was to the writing, but no one cared. It was amazing, and even Steven admitted it was impossible, but they did it. They would stand in their spots in the scene and Steven would tell them the general purpose for the scene and the outline, and nothing more. Then they would do it. They did an entire movie in one take. One. No second takes. Ever. The entire movie was five people. Our four kids and Harrison. He was a master, going with the kids flow and letting them lead. He may have read the script, but it didn't matter. That's not the movie they did. At all. They finished shooting in 6 days. Six. Remember, no retakes.

"That was amazing," said Harrison. "That wasn't shooting a movie, that was living in an alternative time line. I lived that movie. So did the kids. They were those characters. They had passion that came out their pores."

"We had a 15-day shoot planned, and thought we'd have to extend it. We shot it in 6," said Steven. "I'd planned on 6 weeks of editing. It's Monday. I'll have it edited by Thursday, if not Wednesday. There are no edits. I've watched ever scene already, one by one, in order. All I have to do is put the scenes together. I filmed it in order, which isn't done, but the kids needed the story to flow. It had to build. It did. The ending is a shock to the system and if a single viewer leaves that audience without crying, then they have no heart. Any other contenders for best picture should just give up now."

Since we had the time off, we all flew back to LA. We played around on Tuesday and got a text from Steven Tuesday night, about 8.

"It's done. My house. 10 am". Then it listed his address.

We arrived a few minutes early. OK, this was a nice house. There were a ton of really nice cars scattered around. Either Steven really liked cars but couldn't park very well, or he'd invited some other people.

He'd invited some other people. Tom Hanks. Meryl Streep. Kate Winslet. Robert DeNiro. Jennifer Lawrence. Leonardo DiCaprio. There were a dozen superstars milling around. We spent a good half an hour meeting everyone. It was amazing, but I think all four kids were a little overwhelmed. We're here to see a rough cut and the cream of the cream of Hollywood was here. Finally, Steven gathered us together and stood on a table.

"OK everyone. I invited you here today to see a rough cut of a movie, which I have never, in my career, done. For any movie. You should all know the story of this movie, and these amazing kids, before we go in. These four kids are siblings. They've never acted before. Ever. Harrison and I met them through a crazy set of circumstance. He came to me about Leslie and Chris playing the two lead roles. I saw them do a scene and at that time met Orlando and Morgan. We asked them to do a scene. We hired them on the spot. All four. All four major parts in the movie, other than Harrison. There are only five people in this movie," said Steven. "What is more amazing the way this film was shot. None of the four ever read a script." That got an actual gasp out of these professionals.

"Yes, gasp, that's right. This movie was made by me describing a scene to these kids and then they created the movie. It is better than the script. So much better you wouldn't believe it. They improvised scenes better than we wrote them. What's even more amazing, and you'll find this hard to believe, is we did this movie in one take. Every scene, without a script. A movie that is entirely improvisation. By four kids, who have never acted, done in single takes, in 6 days. Yes, 6 days," said Steven. The entire room erupted.

"Oh, I guess I should mention we ended filming late Monday. We edited it yesterday. One day. Now we're ready to show it to all of you. No one but me and our editor has seen it. Not even Harrison," said Steven. "With that, let's go watch a movie."

We all followed him into the theater and found seats. He made sure that Leslie and Chris were at his side, with Morgan and Orlando next to them. Amy and I sat behind them. I was sitting next to Tom Hanks. Amy was sitting next to Meryl Streep. It was surreal.

The movie opens at the funeral of Leslie and Chris' parents. It is not well attended and they're standing on each side of Harrison. You see them from behind, and it is lightly raining. That wasn't in the script, but, well, it rained, and it worked. They were all hunched over, and they looked defeated. Finally, the camera panned around to the front and the girls were crying. Harrison was in the middle, stoic. He clearly didn't know what to do with his hands. You could tell he knew he needed to comfort them but didn't know how. There was no dialogue, but the scene ends with them walking towards an older American car.

The next scene is in their apartment. You have the impression a little time has passed. The girls want to go to their friend's apartment and Harrison is saying no. He's sitting and they're standing, and you view it from the side. You see a sunny day outside, so you know it isn't the same day.

The scene starts with Chris going after him. Hard. So hard it looks like she hit him. He sits back, somewhat in shock. It is passionate. It is forceful. It is honest. She takes a breath and Leslie jumps in. You can see it in her clenched fists that she had something to say. She goes after him and hits below the belt, reminding him that he is not their dad. Then she pivots to the fact that they are not little girls, they are young women and he needs to let them learn. He needs to let them make mistakes. How they're smart, powerful young women and he needs to learn that and treat them that way or he will lose them forever. Chris jumps back in and tells him that either he can be a part of their lives or they can be roommates and today is the day he makes that choice. They just tore it up. Tom Hanks was sitting forward in his seat, enthralled. There wasn't a sound in the theater. No one moved. They watched these girls turn into women in one scene. The scene ends with Harrison saying one word. "OK." You don't know what he means. OK they can go? OK they're young women? OK he wants to be part of their lives? Just OK. The girls leave the scene and you hear a door slam.

Holy fuck.

I won't tell you the whole movie, but it just kept going. It was happy, sad, and everything in between. It was brutal. The scene where Orlando professes his love to Leslie is tender. She shoots him down, but nicely. Not no, but not yet. He is defeated in the battle, but still believes he can win the war. In another scene, the three girls are talking about, of all things, their periods. Orlando is sitting with them and just spends the scene looking slightly freaked out. It's graphic, and funny, and a little disgusting, but it is real. I suspect they just replayed a real conversation in their lives. You get to know them, and you see inside young women's lives. Morgan tells a story about not being allowed by a teacher to go to the bathroom and bleeding onto her seat. I suspect that really happened and it pisses me off. I could see Amy's fists clench during that scene.

In another scene, a boy at school has tried to rape Leslie. Orlando is in the scene and wants to go kill the kid, and the girls have to stop him. Morgan has a speech where she explains that this is just being a girl. That they all are assaulted and that they have to learn to deal with it. It was a tragic scene and so honest. It makes me sad that it is probably true for them in real life.

The movie ends at another funeral. The girls are standing side by side and their two friends are beside them. That's all you see, for no more than 30 seconds, and then the movie ends. It takes your mind a minute to realize it had to be the funeral of the grandfather. You want to know more. What happened? What happens to the girls? You feel uneasy because you just don't know. The lights came up in the room and no one moved. I looked around and every single person was crying, including me. I saw Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep cry. It was that powerful.

Finally, Tom jumps to his feet and starts clapping. Within seconds, the entire audience is standing, except our four kids. They don't really know what to do. They are being cheered by the best actors in the world and they're not sure what to do. Finally, the room calms down and Steven tells everyone that lunch is outside on the patio. The kids are slow to get up. They just relived the movie.

We sat with the kids and it was like a coronation. These amazing people all came up to praise them. They all had scenes that spoke to them. The women mostly focused on the rape or the periods. The men focused on the scene where Orlando got shot down, although many of them spoke to how the rape scene hurt them inside.

I don't know how movies work, but Steven didn't wait for Cannes. It opened the next week in four cities. New York, LA, Chicago, and Dallas. Four theaters. It set records and after word of mouth hit, every single showing was sold out. They added showings. People were coming to 3 am showings. Other theaters clamored for the movies and pushed blockbusters out of theaters to do it. The next weekend it was number one, and not by a small margin. A small people movie, with one star and four unknowns. It is 100% on Rotten Tomatoes. Not one single negative review. Every media outlet wanted to meet the kids. They were on the cover of People, but the article was fluff because none of them wanted to do an interview. Harrison and Steven refused to talk about them. Finally, it was time to fly to France.

There really isn't much to say other than their movie opened the festival and the reaction was much like Steven's house. Throughout the rest of the week, incredibly famous actors stopped us and spoke to the kids. They all wanted to share the spot that spoke to them. The movie won Best of Show. The other nominees, every one of them, withdrew before the voting. I don't know if it was respect or fear, but it was unheard of.

We got back from France and our lives returned to normal, sort of. We'd be out together, and they'd be recognized. Little girls of all ages, and by that I include adult women, would come up and share their favorite scene. They took thousands of selfies. I'll fast forward a bit because I just have to share. It won Best picture and the directors of all the other nominees were quoted as saying they voted for it. Chris and Leslie tied, and the academy awarded them both with Best Actress. They tied because they got every single vote. Morgan and Orlando won their categories too. Steven won Best director but dedicated it to the kids and called them up and handed Chris the statue. His Best picture speech talked about the Hayden Foundation, and donations blew through the roof.

So much for anonymity. Our lives are even weirder than we thought. We talked to the kids, and they didn't see acting as their future. They'd do it again, but for someone like Steven. They didn't want to make it a career.

Steven called Amy one day with a question. He wanted to donate the movie to the public domain, so that schools could play it royalty free. Since the kids all had a profit participation, they all had to agree. Amy told him all their profits had gone to the Hayden Foundation, but she'd check. The kids agreed.

Leslie suggested that they should attend showings. Maybe split up and be the host. They couldn't do it often, because of school, but they managed to go to at least two schools in every county in Florida. The two most disadvantaged schools. Harrison came to visit and surprised the two schools in our county. He's a good man. Finally, they started setting up charity auctions to benefit the Hayden Foundation. Their attendance at the movie was the prize.

Let's bring it back to the now because it is coming up on the first IndyCar race of the season. Practice all week, qualifications on Saturday, and the race on Sunday.

When your 767 is too small

"Bob, it's been too long!" said Bill. "Sorry we missed the Italy trip. Life just got in the way. I just had something quick for you. We'd like to buy the 767 back from you. It's a complicated set of circumstances, but we have a customer with a need, and your plane would solve it, without our having to retrofit one from the used market. Oh, I'm not leaving you hanging. I have an alternative for you. We have a 777-8 that we could retrofit for you. It's overkill for the buyer that wants the 767, but, well, nothing is really overkill for you, now is it? It's 6 feet wider and 22 feet longer, so would be pretty nice. This one was our test aircraft for an ER model that we didn't build, but it does have an almost 10,000nm range. Actually, with your build out, it would be closer to 11,000 unless you had the hold full of cars. We'd do a good deal for you."

Well, a bigger plane. I doubt that Leslie would say no.

"Of course, we'd train everyone. Leslie, Alison, Tom, Jess. Oh, and Chris, of course. In fact, did I hear you're friends with Davis? If you're smart, you'll bring him onboard your team. He is fucking awesome. Or is it an awesome fuck? Both I guess," said Bill, with a laugh. Guess THEY were friends, but it is a good idea. I wonder if they'd move?

"Before you make a decision, there is another alternative, which, knowing your family, you'll probably go for. Remember the 747-8 that Leslie flew? It's available too and I'd give you a screaming deal on it. Less than the 777. It's the last of the line and has some very special features, one of which was the load ramp. Sure would hold a lot more cars. I'd sell it cheap enough that you could do the buildout and still be less than the 777. It's also the most efficient 747 we have ever built, with extended range tanks that we were working on for the Presidential plane that never got built. 12,000nm, with air refueling capabilities, although I doubt you'd get the military to refuel you. But you never know. Oh, and with the new engines, it really doesn't need much runway," said Bill. He shared some pricing, and it was a screaming deal, and I don't know planes. But I had to do this in order.

First, I talked to Amy. You knew that. She laughed and said she didn't care, and I should leave it up to Leslie. Then I called Tom and Jess and they assured me that either plane was fine and that they could easily certify. Then I asked Amai to come in my office. Well, first I blew her, but, well, I did like blowing her.

"Well that was fun, but not why I asked you to come in. Although if you're up for round two, you're welcome to fuck me in the ass," I said, which got a nice smile from her. Oh good. "We're considering replacing the 767 with a larger plane. No one knows yet, so keep it quiet. The question is whether your parents are tied to Cleveland and, if not, if you'd be comfortable with them living nearby and working for us. There is no pressure because we understand parents have their own issues sometimes. If you say that's an issue, we're done."

Amai actually squealed. It was a nice sound.

"Mom and Dad are so fucking bored and they're just existing. I know they'd move here, but they're worried I would object. I can't just ask them, well, it's complicated, but they would think I was just trying to be 'the good daughter'," said Amai. "But if you really had a real job for them, I think they'd move in a heartbeat. They rattle around that big house, bored out of their skull."

"I know your Dad was a pilot, and we need that, but what is your Mom's background?" I asked.

"Mom was a local politician, with a passion for the less fortunate. Hell, that's how they adopted me. I never told you the whole story. They didn't adopt me until I was 14," said Amai. "Not that long ago. You see I always knew I was a girl but hid it. I was the perfect little Asian boy, but miserable, particularly since I WAS little and feminine. I was bullied and beaten up. A lot. My bio parents were friends with Davis and Barb. CLOSE friends if you get my drift. That's how I got introduced into the lifestyle and I fucking loved it. I was 14 and horny. Davis and Barb, now Mom and Dad, were hot as fuck and fuck we did. But I digress. I finally got up the courage, on my 14th birthday, to tell my parents. It didn't end well. I found myself standing in our front yard, in the rain, with the door locked. I was wet and miserable and had no fucking clue what to do. I didn't really have any friends because I was so confused that I was weird as fuck. I went the only place I knew to go. I went to Davis and Barb's house. I never left. Davis went over and beat the shit out of my dad. They threatened to press charges, but my bio parents were pretty prominent in the community and Davis told them he'd tell the story far and wide about them throwing me out. They caved. Barb got them to sign a form relinquishing their rights the next day. Davis knew a judge, and Mom knew the right social workers and they were Mom and Dad by the end of the week. I have been Amai ever since. They're my heroes."

Wow. My respect for Davis and Barb grew, and it was pretty strong.

"That's also why I knew this was the perfect job for me," said Amai. "You and Amy are the younger, whiter version of my parents." We both laughed a little.

"That might be the greatest compliment I have ever received," I said. "So, here's my suggestion. Your dad is one of our pilots. We need more, crazy as that sounds. Tom and Jess' are growing the flight school and they're not as available. We can't count on Leslie and Chris being our only pilots. You don't have time yet to do it, with school. We need your dad. We also have the Hayden PAC and we're not doing enough with it. We kind of started it without thinking it through, and it has grown, and we don't know what to do with the money. We have over a billion in it, sitting there, and could influence policy. Chris is chomping at the bit to do something, but we can't exactly make her the director of a billion-dollar PAC. No, that's not fair. We would tomorrow and she'd be damn good, but she's too young to sign contracts. Silly, but true. She would be at your mom's side, a lot."

Amai squealed again. "Can I tell them?" she asked. I smiled and nodded. "Standard deal for both of them. Davis can work for Tom and Jess too if he wants." Then she fucked me. Hard. While she was, Amy walked in. She just stripped and watched and got herself off. Sometimes self-pleasure is nice.

One last call, to Chloe, to see if she and Ben would design the interior. She was intrigued as she'd never done one. She agreed, but only if she could hire an experienced aircraft interior designer to help. That was a no brainer.

Next, I called in Leslie and Amy stayed with me. I suppose we should have put on clothes, but, well, we didn't. To her credit, when she walked in, she didn't say a word. That's because she went over and immediately went down on Amy, so her mouth was full. Only when Amy was satisfied, could we talk. I admit, I got hard watching. Leslie did notice that.

"777-8 or 747-8," I said. Leslie just looked at me. I repeated the question.

"Well, they're both fine aircraft," said Leslie. "The 777 is more modern, newer, and more efficient, unless you're talking about the actual 747-8, I flew, which has wildly more modern engines. It's actually designed to cruise on only two engines. The only 747 that is."

"So, if you could trade our 767 for that specific 747, and work with Chloe and Ben to custom design the perfect interior, would you do it?" I asked.

She laughed. "In a heartbeat, but we'd need another pilot. We're just shorthanded. Hey, how about Amai's Dad? He'd be perfect," said Leslie. Just then Amai walked in, nodded, and walked back out.

"He already works for us, as of about a minute ago," I said.

"Wait, you're serious, aren't you? This isn't a theoretical conversation," said Leslie. So, I told her the whole story. Yes, more squealing. Why not? It was a squealing kind of day.

I won't got into the specifics of the buildout, but Chloe and Ben did a simply amazing job. Amy and I had a suite, yes, a suite, upstairs with a bedroom and a huge living room. There were 8 bedrooms downstairs and, yes, she built them with moveable walls. Robert would be thrilled. The crazy thing is that it was done in a month. During that month, everyone that needed to went to class, including Amai. Might as well send her through the class. She'll get there soon enough. They filled a special class. Leslie, Chris, Tom, Jess, Alison, Davis, and Amai. At the end of the class, Leslie and Davis flew all of them except Chris and Amai home in the new plane. Chris and Amai flew home in the Hemisphere. Yes, by the time this happened Chris had received her instructor certification. I think Doug just signed anything now. So Amai got instructor hours on a cross country flight. Want to guess who flew left seat in the 747? Yeah, you know.

Email me. Comments, ideas, and suggestions welcome

End of Chapter