Full Black - Brad Thor [78]
Standing shook his head. “I’m afraid you have misunderstood me, my dear.”
“You know what, Mr. Standing? At first calling me my dear was cute. You reminded me of my grandfather, but now I find it patronizing.”
The billionaire liked that he had gotten under her skin, but he didn’t like being compared to her grandfather.
“And as far as misunderstanding you,” she continued, “I haven’t. I understand you all too well. Listening to you speak, I keep remembering that old Chinese proverb. Give a person a fish, and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a person to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime. Your problem is that you want to give everyone fish. If you really cared about human dignity, you’d be giving everyone fishing lessons.”
Standing shook his head once more. Why was this so hard for these flatearth types to understand? “Despite everything we’ve talked about, despite the disproportionate number of haves versus have nots, the inequitable distribution of wealth, all of it, you’ve never had one doubt about capitalism? You can look me in the eye and tell me that somehow greed and self-interest are good things?”
“All I know, Mr. Standing, is that there is no perfect place where greed doesn’t exist. In fact, the greater the government control, the more greed there is. The people who are the worst off in our world don’t live under capitalism, they live in societies that have turned away from or are prevented from embracing capitalism and free trade. So you’ll pardon me for saying so, but what you’re proposing isn’t going to make the world a better place. If you were successful at doing what you say you’d like to do, it would make the world a much, much worse place, and I pray to God it never happens.”
“God,” said Standing with a derisive sniff. “You see the state our planet is in and you still believe in God. You really aren’t very bright, are you?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“I’m bright enough to realize that now that you’ve made your money and are one of the wealthiest people in the world, you’ve abandoned the ideas that got you here and have replaced them with fantasies of a classless utopia,” said the reporter as she stood up.
The billionaire was taken by surprise. “What’s going on?”
“Thank you for the wine.”
Was she leaving? “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my office to finish writing my article.”
“I asked you to dinner and expect you to stay for all of it,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as he took hold of her arm. “Sit down.”
“You’ve got less than two seconds to take your hand off of me, Mr. Standing. I promise you that I’ll snap your wrist before your security team even knows what has happened. I can only imagine that bones break very easily in a man of your age and take very long to heal.”
How dare she? Standing was enraged, yet he forced a smile onto his face and removed his hand from her arm. People in the crowded restaurant were watching. “Let’s not embarrass ourselves. I’m sure we can find something else to talk about.”
Sliding out of her chair, Julia Winston forced her own smile. “Good night, Mr. Standing.”
As she walked away, Standing got in the last word, uttering it loud enough for her to hear. “Bitch.”
He snapped his fingers to get the attention of his security detail and indicated that he was ready to leave. He’d be damned if he would suffer the additional embarrassment of sitting at his table and dining by himself like some lonely old man.
His waiter rushed over. “Is everything all right, Mr. Standing?”
“Everything is fine, Jeffery,” he said, a less-than-convincing smile upon his lips. “Something has come up and we won’t be able to dine with you tonight.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.” Looking at the three-thousand-dollar bottle of wine, he added, “What would you like to do with the Montrachet?”
Though he would only pour it