“YOU NEVER BOTHERED to read the terms of the trust, did you?”
Red Wheeler sat there in his grandfather’s office, glum faced and slumped in his chair, tangled dreadlocks obscuring much of his face. He didn’t answer. It was his trip to the woodshed and he just wanted to get it over with.
“No, of course you didn’t. That would have involved some sort of actual work. Allow me to bring you some clarity.” His grandfather put on his reading glasses and flipped through the pages of the trust. “Part Two, Section Three: Payments from the trust to a beneficiary may be suspended temporarily or permanently for reasons of moral turpitude.”
Moral turpitude? That didn’t sound good.
His grandfather flipped a few more pages. “Section Four: Moral turpitude is defined as committing an act or acts in violation of generally accepted standards of moral conduct.” He lowered his glasses and glared at Red. “The trustees are friends of mine and they have looked the other way on your behavior for many years. But guess what? They don’t think that starring in a pornographic video that then sparked a riot is a generally accepted standard of moral conduct.”
“I never gave consent for that to be filmed!”
“You should just sit there and shut up. At market close yesterday, your trust was valued at thirty-eight-point-two million dollars. You and your brother are the sole beneficiaries and receive dividends and interest. These payments, at least to you, are being officially suspended and placed into abeyance for a period of three years.”
Red slumped even further. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, as far as you’re concerned, that the trust is frozen until you meet certain conditions. Once those conditions are met, you will once again be eligible as a beneficiary. I checked your personal accounts and I noticed you’ve been spending everything you’ve been getting so, son, it means you are flat broke.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Really. That’s an interesting viewpoint. I’m curious what you did to earn any of that money.” His grandfather sat there and waited for an answer.
Damn him, using his money like a weapon, thought Red. Typical capitalist. I should just tell him what he can do with his money.
“Nothing? Was that what you were going to say? Because I happened to work damn hard for it.”
Red looked up resentfully at the family patriarch. The old man was framed by the Manhattan skyline behind him. Surely this is a bluff.
“You know, Red, you’ve spent much of your life in a childish Marxist fantasyland, railing against the very system that made everything around you possible. The trust, your education, the iPhone in your pocket, the very clothes you’re wearing … where do you think it all comes from? Maybe you think there are magic iPhone trees? Or maybe it comes from a workers’ paradise like Cuba? Where do you think the money came from to build your beloved Devon? From community organizers?
“I tried to give you every advantage, the best education, every resource at your disposal, and yet our family embarrasses you so much you still use your mother’s name. This is my fault. It was a mistake to give you so much. I see that now.”
“I do important work!” Red had to make a stand.
“You play at campus radical while living off money you didn’t earn. You’re free to continue doing so, but not with my money.”
“I’m not leaving Devon. I still need a few more credits plus I’m over twenty-one! It’s not your call.”
“Is that so? How do you plan to meet the seventy-five-thousand-dollar tuition?”
Red was silent, looking out the window at all the nearby office towers, filled with their work slaves. He saw no hope there. “What are these conditions?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’m going to do you an enormous favor, although you will not see it that way. My company owns a significant stake in a company called Youngstown Steel in Ohio. I have arranged for you to start Monday on the factory floor.”
“No fucking way.”
“I haven’t finished, and I will thank you not to use that language in my place of work. You will work there for no fewer than three years. Should you do this and get satisfactory reviews from the floor manager, you will once again be the trust’s beneficiary. Should you not meet these conditions, the beneficiary shall be changed to the United Negro College Fund. Frankly, I like their odds.”
It was no longer possible for Red to slump any further in his chair.
“So, as I said, it’s your call. You can sit there as long as you like. I have a meeting.”
Foster Jennison stood up and left the room.