Previously On The Maya...
Tuscon Sutton II gives a brief but rousing speech, then sits down to finish his dinner. During the dessert portion of the meal, the guests at the Sutton table take turns asking the couple questions. Amara Barclay provides the boldest question yet by asking Sutton how much he's worth. After a moment's hesitation, he replies that the last he heard it was in the neighborhood of $700 billion.
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
Sutton's admission caused some involuntarily gasps and jaw dropping, even by Paloma, who was the quickest to recover. Kirkegaard was astonished not only by the amount but that Sutton didn't completely brush off Amara's inquiry. It wasn't any of her business what the Suttons were worth, let alone the rest at the table. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a growing admiration for Sutton. Not because of his massive wealth (most of the world had smaller economies than he was worth!) but because of the way he handled it. There was more humility in this man than Kirkegaard had seen in a hundred. His speech was proof of that, but then Sutton had proceeded to spend the intervening time backing it up. He and Lilith both. They were the least pretentious people Kirkegaard had ever met, and yet, if there ever were a reason to be, they certainly owned it.
"Seven hundred billion..." Even Amara couldn't finish the entire sentence. "That makes you..."
"The wealthiest man alive," Simmons said. He then looked surprised the words came out of his mouth. Of the group, he did seem the least likely.
"Try ever," Kirkegaard said.
"Yes, I'm old King Midas," Sutton said, throwing up his hand. "You caught me."
That brought smiles and some laughter. Stavros looked at Amara with a pained expression and then said, "I hope the question didn't offend you. That's the last thing any one of us intends. Some of us here have more than we need, and others have been around great power and wealth. None of us have come across someone who's amassed so much."
"No worries," Sutton said, "There is no need for apologies of any kind. I'd be right there with you, wondering exactly the same thing. It's only natural, isn't it?" He paused for a moment, looking around the table as if to ensure everyone there believed him. Then, he added, "I've been wealthy, and believe it or not, I've been destitute. While I prefer to have something to get by on, and while having enough to support my family is paramount to me, the truth is, all the riches in the world are nothing when put up against the worth of a loving spouse and a growing family."
"I'd still like to find out on my own," Amara said, "Thank you very much."
Sutton laughed, which drew out the rest. "By all means," he said.
"There are sixty-four of you here," Paloma said, after the laughter died down. She seemed to be in deep reflection. "How many family members do you have altogether?"
"Well, let's see," Lilith said, looking down at her hands. She wiggled them for a moment, as if she were counting them. "Ten children, ninety grandchildren, fifteen great-grandchildren. One hundred fifteen. Plus thirty-one spouses. We count them, too."
"Any great-great grandchildren forthcoming?"
"Not for a while yet." Lilith smiled, her eyes dancing. "The oldest great-grandchild is only ten."
"So, fifteen more years, give or take," Kirkegaard said, "that's not so bad."
"I've never heard of anyone living to have great-great grandchildren," Stavros said. There was awe in his voice.
"Is it true..." Amara said. Then she paused, as if even she thought, after her wealth question, the next one she meant to ask was too much.
"Is what true, dear?" Lilith coaxed. If she anticipated what it would be, she didn't seem to mind.
"Are you both really a hundred and twenty years old?"
Again, just as with her last question, there was not an immediate reply. This time, both Sutton and Lilith looked at Amara for a few seconds, then they turned to each other. Lilith raised her eyebrows slightly, and Sutton gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Lilith was about to turn back to Amara, when an announcement came over the speaker system.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a male voice said, "We will be moving some of the tables to the walls and clearing the rest. It's time to dance!"
Music began to flow. Kirkegaard turned to see the band reassembled in their seats across the ballroom. Already, ushers and servers were beginning to retrieve tables and chairs as guests poured away from them.
"Lilith," Sutton said.
"Yes, Tucson?"
"That's our cue," he said. "They're playing our song."
"Yes, they are." Lilith finally made eye contact with Amara. "Sorry, dear. Your question will have to wait. This is one of those formalities we absolutely can't miss."
Sutton rose up, took Lilith's hand, and after excusing themselves to everyone at the table, they gracefully made their way, to great fanfare, to the center of the ballroom. Once there, they began to dance a waltz.
"Amara, are you okay?" It was Stavros. He was trying to shield them from the others, his voice low, but it was impossible to do at such close quarters. Especially since, Amara was sitting right next to Kirkegaard.
"Absolutely," she said, furrowing her brow. With the expression she communicated it was impossible not to be, given the circumstances.
"Then why do you insist on offending and embarrassing our hosts?"
"In what way?" Amara showed genuine confusion. "They seem perfectly at ease to me."
"How much are you worth? Are you really a hundred and twenty? Those are extremely personal questions."
"And they are happy to answer them, aren't they?"
"Would you like it if you were being asked such things?"
Amara didn't answer. Instead, she looked over to Kirkegaard, who seemed to anticipate such an eventuality.
"Hey," he said, taking Paloma by the hand, "They're playing our song." He pretended not to see Amara's expectant look for help. "We'll be back," he told Simmons, who, as if that were his own hint to bail, gathered himself up.
"Shall we dance?" he said to Haley.
"Thank you," she said, trying desperately to wipe the apprehension off her face.
When the table was cleared accept for the two of them, Amara huffed, blew at her bangs, and turned back to Stavros. Folding her arms she said, "Fine lot they are."
"They know I'm right," Stavros said, cracking a slight smile. "You should, too."
"I'm not accustomed to being treated as a child, Eugenio," she said, eyes narrowing. "If the Suttons are offended, they can tell me to knock it off. Not you."
"I've said my peace," Stavros said, standing up. He held out his hand. "So, you can either be mad at me for telling you the truth, or you can accept it, take my hand, and do what you've been waiting all day to do."
"What?" Amara looked away. "Dance? With you?"
"Don't pretend otherwise. We've known each other way too long."
Amara was about to retort with something like, "Don't flatter yourself," but somehow, she managed to refrain. Instead, she stood up, arms still crossed, and she made her way to the dance floor. Stavros looked down at his empty hand, noticed that others were looking, gave them a slight shrug and a half-grin, then followed after her.
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
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