Chapter 113: Choices

Xavier looked at the screen. Looked at her.

She’s giving me her number before I even asked for it, he thought. At 9AM on a Tuesday in a gym car park. Because she saw the Panamera and liked what she found when she looked closer. She thinks I’m rich which is true exactly. He held her gaze. I know exactly what this is.

And I’m not bothered by knowing, he thought. Not everything has to be genuine. Some things are just what they are. Besides I had a kink for Asian women, can’t let go of their cat-like eyes.

He saved the number.

"Jade," he said. Reading it back from the contact.

"Xavier," she said. The same way.

She picked up her water bottle from the station beside him. Looked at him one more time with the particular look of someone who had accomplished what they came over to accomplish and was satisfied with how it had gone.

"See you around," she said.

"Probably," he said.

She winked and walked back toward the cable machine.

Xavier watched her go for exactly two seconds.

Then opened his banking app cycling his usual transactions.

[ REBATE SYSTEM ]

Daily Cycle — Morning

Transaction Detected: $200,000 spent on donation — Global Education Trust

Base Multiplier (Tier 2): 2x

Total Return: $400,000

[ Net Balance: $12,197,994.00 → $12,397,994.00 ]

$12,397,994, he noted. Tuesday morning. First gym session. Jade’s number saved.

He picked up his bag and headed for the locker room.

She knows what she’s doing, he thought. And I know what she’s doing. He pushed through the locker room door. And she probably knows that I know. He almost smiled. Which makes it honest in its own specific way.

He showered. Changed back into his clothes. Checked himself in the locker room mirror one more time.

Different from this morning, he thought. First session done. Baseline established.

Better, he thought. Not dramatically. Just better.

He picked up his bag. Headed for the lift.

Might just contact Mr. Hartley this afternoon, he thought. Campus tomorrow. And Friday, he thought. Still Friday.

One thing at a time.

[ REBATE SYSTEM ]

Transaction Detected: $200,000 spent on donation — Rural Healthcare Initiative

Base Multiplier (Tier 2): 2x

Total Return: $400,000

[ Net Balance: $12,197,994.00 → $12,597,994.00 ]

He drove out of the Apex Fitness car park at 9:47AM.

$12,597,994, he noted. Tuesday morning already looking clean.

The Panamera moved through the commercial district at its usual pace. Xavier drove and thought about baselines. The gym kind, the financial kind, the kind that existed between people before anything had been decided yet.

Jade, he thought. Clear about what she wants. Direct about how she goes after it.

Selene, he thought. Said I called you tonight because I wanted to with no cover and no deniability on a Sunday evening.

Amira, he thought. Kept notes from my lectures for four months without being asked and tested me on section four at 9AM on a Wednesday.

Different women, he thought. Different things.

All of them real in their own specific way.

He pulled up outside the hostel. It was already 2pm.

Xavier was walking back to the hostel from his car when his phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

Mr. Hartley.

The tailor, he thought. I called him Monday morning about the new suits. He said he’d be in touch.

He answered.

"Mr. Hartley," he said.

"Mr. Cole." The old tailor’s voice had the same quality as everything else about him. Precise, unhurried, no word used that wasn’t doing necessary work. "I’ve been going through the fabric catalogue this morning. I have some thoughts."

"Go ahead," Xavier said. He pushed through the hostel entrance and took the stairs slowly, phone to his ear.

"The two suits I made you previously," Mr. Hartley said. "Good fabric. Solid construction. You’ve worn them well."

"Yes," Xavier said.

"But they were introductory work," Mr. Hartley said. "I didn’t know you then. I know you better now." A brief moment. "What I’m looking at this morning is an entirely different category. Italian mill fabric — Loro Piana and Scabal. The kind of material that changes how a suit moves. How it sits. How it reads in a room." Another brief moment. "Significantly more expensive than the previous order."

Xavier was at his door now. He unlocked it and went inside. Sat at the desk.

"How significantly," he said.

"The previous suits were $80,000 each," Mr. Hartley said. "What I’m proposing now starts at $120,000 per suit. For four suits that’s $480,000." A pause. "The difference is immediately apparent to anyone who knows what they’re looking at. And in the environments you’re moving in. They know."

Xavier looked at the ceiling.

$480,000, he thought. For four suits.

In his previous life that number would have required several seconds of silence and a conversation about whether this was responsible or even possible. In this life it required approximately three seconds of consideration.

Loro Piana and Scabal, he thought. The fabric houses that made suits for people at the level Vincent Hale operated at. The level above where Xavier currently presented. He thought about the Hale & Associates conference room. The way David and Christine’s suits had sat differently from his. Not dramatically, just in the way expensive things sat differently from very expensive things. The environment notices.

"Send me the samples," he said. "On the phone. I’ll look at them now."

"Already sending," Mr. Hartley said.

The images arrived while they were still on the call. Xavier put it on speaker and opened the photos.

Different, he thought immediately. Even on a phone screen.

The fabrics had a quality that came through even in photography. A depth to the colour, a particular weight you could almost sense without touching. Four options. A deep charcoal with a barely visible windowpane pattern. A midnight blue that was darker and richer than the navy he currently owned. A warm grey that sat between casual and formal in a way that was genuinely interesting. And a classic black for occasions that called for it without apology.