America 1982-Chapter 120 - 34: The Sound of Money Flowing

On Baker Beach in San Francisco’s Presidio Park, Jim Manzi, wearing a casual T-shirt, floral beach shorts, and flip-flops, squatted between two lounge chairs with a licentious expression on his face. He was simultaneously applying sunscreen to two young women who were lying on the chairs and had undone their bikini tops. His hands glided over their shiny, oiled backs and buttocks, eliciting pleasurable sounds from his mouth:

"If heaven really exists, then it’s definitely got to look like California, man. I should’ve chosen Stanford University instead of that damned Tufts University."

Other beachgoers looked on with either envy or complex gazes at this thirty-something-year-old Caucasian man biting on a cigar, not understanding why these two women, who looked like models sunbathing at the beach, would leave the task of applying sunscreen to such an unattractive man without strong muscles and even with a clearly visible paunch.

"Are you jealous? Gentlemen, they’re both my girlfriends! Get what I mean?" Jim Manzi, seeing the looks from others, shouted joyfully at the people around him.

"Mr. Manz, sunbathing with you still costs money, five hundred an hour per person..." one of the beauties reminded him softly.

"Don’t be such a spoilsport, Dorothy. Otherwise, I’ll complain to your entertainment company about your poor attitude. Hold that cigar for me, and spend your time improving your professional skills—you’ll be more likable!" Jim interrupted the woman before she could finish, took the cigar from his mouth, and stuffed it into hers, dissatisfied:

"I relish those complex looks from people. If I announce that you’re all high-class call girls available for the right price, they wouldn’t be so jealous of me."

A Caucasian man of about the same age as Jim, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, walked up and, seeing Jim’s antics, rubbed his forehead: "Jim, you asshole, I wish I didn’t know you."

Jim was scooping some ice cream with his fingers and spreading it over his nipples as he knelt between the lounge chairs.

"Are you treating the whole of California as a brothel?" The man sat down on the empty spot next to him, looked at Jim’s blissful expression with disgust, and cursed.

Jim looked at him in confusion and then patted Dorothy on the butt, signalling, "Isn’t it? Dorothy, go and keep my best friend from my time working at National Review Magazine, Hugh Birch, company!"

"No, no, no, don’t need that, Jim. I don’t have your talent for getting horny at any time under the sun, and I don’t want to be seen as a sex maniac. While you can dishonor yourself here and still return to Massachusetts, I’ve decided to live in California permanently." Birch, the deputy editor of Information World Magazine, waved his hand to stop the woman from approaching and spoke to Jim.

"If it weren’t for the fact that I remember our trips around the Soviet Union looking for prostitutes, I’d believe you were a good man, Birch." Upon hearing Birch’s disinterest in joining his debauchery, Jim stopped his absurd actions and sat down on the lounge chair beside Birch, "I’m just here on vacation in California."

"It’s software from Actor Corporation." Birch pulled out a file bag and tossed it onto Jim:

"No need to scrounge around. A Stanford social engineering student named Holly Kina, one of the three founders of Actor Corporation, has a good rapport with one of my reporters. They’ve had coffee together a few times, and she even gave him a copy of the software developed by Actor Corporation to test, though he hasn’t installed it yet."

"I get it, your bloodsucking reporter won’t have the time to write software reviews unless they buy a bunch of ad slots," Jim picked up the file bag and placed it beside him, grabbed an ice-cold Coke, and took a drink:

"What’s the deal with that company? Whether it’s for the tens of thousands Lotus spends on advertising every year or for our personal relationship, I expect no reservations from you, Birch." 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

"My reporter says they only have this one software that provides electronic document and spreadsheet functions..." Birch looked out over the sea, but before he could finish, Jim impatiently cut him off:

"I remind you that it’s not something provided by Actor, it’s a bastard child born from Lotus Corporation screwing Micro-Innovation Company. Actor Corporation just played the camera, capturing the act of copulation—it’s outright plagiarism. And I’m well aware of this software. I need information about that company."

"The company doesn’t seem to have any plans to employ software distributors to help with sales at the moment," Birch said, recalling a conversation with Holly Kina and my subordinates. "They’ve collaborated with a women’s organization at Stanford, training unemployed women to master the software, and then trying to recommend clerical jobs for them. The software sells for $49.99." Birch was already accustomed to Jim’s rudeness and stated this calmly.

Jim suddenly sat up, startling Birch with his abrupt movement; but then, remembering something, he lazily lay back down: "Cooperating with an on-campus women’s organization, taking money out of the pockets of poor and ugly women... How big is the training operation?"

"Four converted mobile homes into classrooms, fifty of the cheapest computers, training on Saturdays and Sundays, a one-month course to complete the training," Birch replied.

"Fifty trained a month, six hundred a year, six hundred units sold makes just thirty thousand dollars. If it’s about scamming computer-illiterate idiots for some easy cash, indeed, it sounds like a good hustle..." Jim muttered, then suddenly rose again, his eyes changing from half-closed to fierce, like a wild beast fixating on Birch.

Birch, startled by Jim’s reactions, cursed irritably, "What the hell is your problem, Jim? Did a gigolo poke your ass last night, making you so restless?"

"There isn’t a damn software on the market that can make someone with no computer skills proficient in just eight days!" Jim said sternly to Birch:

"I’ve been with Lotus for half a year, and I still can’t remember the operations of our own company’s software. It’s mainly because that hundred-page manual is too intimidating; I never had the guts to open it. My secretary spent a whole month learning the software before finally getting rid of the manual... If they just want to make some quiet money, why would Actor Corporation send the software to us? They should be hiding like rats, scared of us finding out."

Birch dismissed this: "Even if sales peak, it’s just six hundred units in a year, which is less than what your company sells in a day..."

"Birch!" Jim’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if a thought struck him. He picked up the envelope containing the software and headed towards the dressing room, his mouth imitating a noise, "Swish swish swish swish swish~~~~ what’s that sound?"

"The sound of Lotus Corporation’s vice president pissing himself in fear over six hundred units of sales?" Birch said mockingly.

"The sound of wind passing through palm leaves, or perhaps the sound of money flowing," Jim replied, glancing back at his old friend, then said to the two still stunned beauties, "My temporary girlfriends, remember to get the bill from him. Although he didn’t use your services, yes, he will pay."

"Jim... Jim!" Birch called out loudly to Jim Manzi, who was running to the dressing room—and Jim ran even faster. He quickly disappeared into the dressing room, and Birch cursed angrily, "I guarantee that the ad rates for your company next month will go up a bloody two hundred percent!"

Birch turned to the two attractive women: "So, how much is it?"

"With last night’s expenses, plus tanning on Baker Beach, the total comes to three thousand six hundred dollars," the woman named Dorothy replied with a smile, politely stating the amount.

"Last night’s... Your company really trusts its high-end clients! Three thousand six hundred dollars, who the hell did he sleep with? Some noble princess from England? Next time remember, if he asks for your services again, make sure he pays up front. The sound of money flowing, the sound of money flowing... F*ck you, Jim! Turns out it’s my money flowing away..." Even Birch, who wasn’t short on cash, was stunned by the sum of three thousand six hundred dollars. After coming to his senses and seeing the direction Jim Manzi had vanished in, he sighed and despairingly asked Dorothy, the woman who had spoken:

"What excuse do your usual clients find to get their wives to pay the bill, and to make them believe that their husband was innocent upon seeing the charges?"