THE INHERITANCE

Chapter 2

BZZT! BZZT! BZZT! SLAP!

My hand rested on the nightstand, two inches from the alarm clock I'd just attempted to crush. The morning noise of a busy Manhattan morning wafted in through the walls while I tried to shut my eyes and ears against an invasive weekday.

BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!

The hell? Why was it still buzzing? Then I noticed that the noise was coming from INSIDE my nightstand. Bleary-eyed, I yanked open the drawer and found my cell phone, which was vibrating against the wood in silent mode. I'd turned it down when Taylor had come over last night.

BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!

After a few blinks, I managed to read the caller ID. It was my mom. And it was 7 o'clock in the morning. I didn't want to pick it up at this early hour.

Still, she was my mom. My one and only parent. I never knew who my dad was. He'd been gone long before I was born and my mom never spoke of him. She'd taught me to tie my shoelaces and help me with my homework and generally take care of me my entire life. The least I could do was answer the phone when she called me. So I hit the TALK button and gingerly pressed the receiver to my head.

"Yeah..."

"Jonathan!" she exclaimed. Well, it was a little more like 'Jonnatan'... my mom's accent wasn't very good with 'th' sounds. Then she blurted a harsh phrase in Cantonese, telling me to wake up.

"I'm up, I'm up."

"Jonathan, I have to tell you I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth a long time ago."

That got my attention, and I could feel the last bindings of sleep breaking away as I sat up a little straighter in bed. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry. But you're going to be hearing a lot of things in the next few days. But you should know it is the truth. I should have told you before. Jonathan, I love you."

"I love you too, mom. But what are you talking about?"

There was no answer, and I no longer heard the faint buzz of feedback from an open cell connection.

"Hello? Mom?" I ventured. "Hello?"

Nothing. And then a moment later came the triple tone of CALL ENDED. I cursed out my cell phone carrier. Fewest dropped calls my ass.

The phone vibrated a second later and I instantly hit the TALK button. "Mom?"

"No, it's Taylor. Ohmigod! I can't believe it! Can you believe it?"

Between my mom and Taylor, this was really starting to frustrate me. "Believe what? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You mean you haven't heard? They just announced it on the morning news!"

"Heard WHAT?"

"Your father! He's dead!"

She couldn't have said what I thought she said... "Who?"

"Oh for f**k's sake." Taylor sounded annoyed at me now. "Turn on your TV. There are news crews right outside your apartment right now."

I found the remote and hit the power button. As the screen was flickering to life, my phone was buzzing at me again as I had another incoming call. "Taylor, it's my mom, I'll call you back."

"You'd better."

I hit the button to switch calls to my mom, and then my jaw hit the floor. There really were news cameras outside my apartment. The screen showed the front of my apartment building, two of the doormen I recognized working hard to keep various media types away while various residents tried to sneak out and get on with their lives. With typical New York self-centeredness, none of them even stopped to ask what was going on.

"Jonathan!"

"Yeah, mom. I'm watching the news."

I could almost HEAR her close her eyes as she sighed. "I should have told you."

I was getting really annoyed. This had gone on WAY too long. SOMEBODY had to tell me what the hell was going on! And as her words reverberated through my head, the answer scrolled across the screen.

Noted billionaire industrialist Jonathan Kendall died in a jet crash almost a week ago. I'd recognized the name as he'd been romantically linked to several celebrities over the years. An unmarried playboy for decades, he'd been very visible hobnobbing with the Hollywood elite, building his fortune through some successful movie producing in addition to his profitable corporations. But that's not what had television news vans blocking traffic outside my apartment this morning.

Lawyers had opened up his will, and apparently kept everything under wraps for the past week. But now a leak had hit the media that Mr. Kendall had left his entire fortune, worth several billion dollars, to his one and only son, Jonathan Kwong, a young investment banker in New York.

Jonathan Kwong, as in ME.

A famous guy dying would always be news. But the fact that NO ONE knew Jonathan Kendall even HAD a son made things more newsworthy. And the fact that he'd left several BILLION dollars to a son who was unaware made the story the headliner.

And then there were three photos on the screen. To the left, 48-year old Jonathan Kendall, with his light brown hair and sterling blue eyes. To the right, a pretty picture of my mom from a few years ago. And in the middle, the official company photo of me acquired from my investment firm. Now that they lined up all three of us, I could detect some physical resemblance. Same hairline, same cheekbones. I had my mom's eyes, although they were the same deep blue color of my father's. I'd gotten a great mix of both Asian and Caucasian genes, and now I knew exactly where they'd come from.

"Jonathan!" my mom was screaming through the phone.

I suddenly jerked out of my stupor and picked up the handset once again. "Tell me everything."