A Billion Reasons Why_Billionaire romance Read online

  Moving away made her appreciate the serenity of home, her love of country grew stronger the further away she moved. Now, with every kilometer she travelled closer to home, her anxiety faded and peace descended. Ellin needed to come home.

  “Andamooka Gorge – 5km”

  The old bus spluttered past familiar weatherboard houses that had seen better days. Built when a miner told the world he found opals at the Gorge instead of plain Andamooka. The difference one word made. An influx of would-be miners, all wanting to strike their fortune. Only to pack up and leave within the year after their dreams turned to red dust.

  Her father stayed longer than most. Ellin had faded memories of a tall, dusty man picking her up and swinging her over his shoulder while he played soccer in the dirt with her younger brothers. One day he left for a job in another town. Promised to return. Maybe, one day, he would.

  The hurt of his abandonment became eaten by a burning anger. He ruined her mother’s life. The same religion that wouldn’t let him divorce her mother didn’t force him to be a father or provide for his family. Unable to remarry, her mother raised her children alone until life and circumstances drove her to an early grave.

  “Eeeelin,” Maali Kenmarre climbed on board the bus, grabbing Ellin out of her seat into a tearful bear hug. “Eeeelin, Ellin, my wish came true. You are home.”

  “Meye, I’ve missed you so much, ipmenhe” Ellin hugged the frail body in her arms, calling the woman who raised her both “meye” for mother and “ipmenhe” for grandmother. In her heart and life, she had been both.

  Ellin held back her concern. Her grandmother’s eyes still sparkled, but her body seemed smaller than only a couple of months ago when Ellin last visited.

  “Girl, you too skinny. Don’t they have food in that fancy city of yours?” Ahh, not the right time to tell ipmenhe about her modelling.

  “They do, but not as good as you. What’s for dinner?”

  “Those brothers of yours – I had a thick lamb stew ready for you.”

  “Sounds great, with cheesy mashed potatoes?”

  “Well,” Maali laughed, turning before taking the last step from the bus, “There’s still some potatoes left if you want them!”

  Ellin smiled, shaking her head. “Please tell me you have bread?”

  “I even made the loaf myself. I couldn’t have you come all this way for stale shop bought bread.”

  “Why would it be stale?” As they drove back to her grandmother’s house, Ellin saw the damage of the economy continued with more houses and shops boarded up. Her town was slowly dying.

  “Deliveries from the main town only come every couple of weeks now. Soon, there won’t be anyone left here to deliver to. The young people are either dying or leaving.

  “Dying?”

  “Sweetheart,” Maali stared straight ahead, avoiding Ellin’s eyes, “We’ve had a funeral every other month for a youngster who should have been getting married or having babies. So sad, so very sad.”

  “What about Coen and Birrani, how are they taking it?” Ellin’s concern for her brothers pervaded her thoughts and prayers every day. Should she have stayed and looked after them, made sure they were safe?

  “They won’t leave me – not for the city or for another life. They are good boys and finding their way.” Maali pulled along next to an old, green weatherboard house. Back before the mining rush, it started off as a single bedroom and two living rooms. As people joined the household, a ramshackled assortment of rooms were added using left over building supplies until it resembled a collage of fibro and color-bond aluminum sheeting.

  “Your studio is still out the back the same as you left it.”

  “You didn’t try and clean it out?” an old joke.

  “I wouldn’t know where to start!”

  Two young men ran out to the car, racing to open the boot and see who could throw Ellin’s black luggage the furthest onto the red dust. Huge smiles and big toothy grins as they then fought to pull her from the car, hugging and tossing their sister between them until she begged for mercy.

  “Let me get inside and see if you left me any food.”

  “Gran wouldn’t let us touch the bread and cheese – at least not until you got here!” Coen promised.

  “Dibs, Ellin’s here so we can eat the bread!” Birrani ran off towards the kitchen, followed by Maali offering all manner of threats if there wasn’t anything left for their sister to eat.

  “Welcome home, Ellin,” Coen whispered. “Gran won’t tell you, but Aunty Evelyn died last month. She didn’t want to bother you and have you miss your studies by coming home for the funeral.”

  “Aunty Eve? I thought Gran said someone young.”

  “That too, but I don’t want to talk about it. Aunty Eve’s heart finally gave out. You know what that means …” his voice trailed off.

  “Gran’s the last of her language.”

  “Yep. And she hasn’t been doing so good. Ellin,” he pleaded, “We need to do something.”

  The television set blared the daily news, “Earlier today, Danielle from our breakfast show interviewed Australia’s newest young billionaire, Mason Winters,” the camera panned in on the blonde man in an expensive white open shirt and jeans.

  “Those clothes cost more than a month’s rent, and from the looks of it he spends more time at the gym that most of his employees work,” Ellin noted, angrily, “He can spend more on his wardrobe and gym membership than most families have for food.”

  “Back off Ellin, you don’t know the guy,” Coen soothed while Ellin turned the volume up.

  “It’s been quite a journey, but I’m pleased to say Softli has never been in a stronger position to compete globally while still maintaining our local roots,” his lips were moving, but Ellin couldn’t see any emotion in his eyes.

  “Danielle, you met the man – give us all the goss.”

  “Geoff, he is charming and now on the look out for a wife – so ladies – be warned. Mason Winters is a man on a mission and you could be his next lucky project!”

  As the blonde host giggled, Ellin turned off the television in disgust.

  “I hate them!”

  “Chill,” Coen started slicing the bread in awkward, jagged slices.

  “Give it here,” she grabbed the knife. “I hate how the rich keep getting richer, while we can’t even get fresh bread. What is wrong with the world?”

  “You don’t think that interview was for real, do you?” Coen sneered. “He’s all about distracting us from real life by trying to fake interest in a company nobody cares about. To him it is all PR and marketing something out of nothing.”

  “It worked,” Ellin tore the crust in half and handed it to her brother. “That’s it!” she squealed. “It worked!” She left the room to grab her laptop and started typing furiously.

  “Turn the damn thing off,” Mason growled. “I’m not looking to make some woman my project.”

  Derek Casbar handed him a scotch from his own bar. “Mate, today you are the media darling – their flavor of the moment. They will have you hooked up, broken up and married off by breakfast if you let them. Your looks and now the cash. You are the best thing that happened to breakfast TV.”

  “Yeah, well they are going to have to find someone else. I can’t even buy milk now without some woman coming up and flicking her hair in my face.”

  “Ahhh, the dating rituals of women. Wait for the hair toss and the giggle.”

  “How do I make them stop? I’ve been on four dates in the last month, but they don’t want to know about me - only what I can do for them. Half the time I think they only ask me out to get photos for their timeline.”

  “I like the dates that don’t involve talking,” Derek’s reputation for affairs was well known among his friends, and his wife.

  “Nothing like that. They want to talk – about themselves, and what cars they like, where they want to live and all the places in the world I should travel to – with them.”

  “Ther
e are thousands of men wishing they were in your shoes. Go out with friends, take your pick of the women and hand the left overs to your friends. Everyone wins.”

  “Except me. I’m not interested in a random hook up any more than I want to be a trophy for some money-hungry woman.”

  “Life is tough when you are rich and good-looking,” Derek chuckled.

  “Would you forget my non-existent love life. I need you to prepare me for this board meeting.”

  “It would be easier to set you up on a date. Listing your company was the easy part – winning over your new shareholders will take some work.”

  “I’m doing everything you asked. Still putting in twelve hour days in the office plus hours of useless effort paying media whore. I don’t know what else they expect from me.”

  “Blood and stone. Don’t worry, that’s what you pay me for.” Pragmatic as always, Derek continued, “If you look successful, so do I. So let’s get to work.”

  “Gran, you know my AIMEE mentor, Darius?”

  “Yes dear. He came out to meet me when you finished Year 10, I think. I told him he’d have his work cut out mentoring you through high school.”

  “Yes, well I told him that I want to do something to preserve our language and I need to reach out to people who can help.”

  “How could he help? Doesn’t he work in advertising?”

  “That makes him the perfect person for advice. I wanted to catch up with him when I was in Adelaide, but he was away. I just talked to him, told him that I want to do something. He suggested I start an online campaign. Put out our story and someone will see it and offer to help.”

  “Why would anyone care?”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you,” she pulled out her phone to show her grandmother photos taken for magazines, advertisements and even a billboard. “I do some modelling in my spare time. It pays better than being a waitress, and apparently my ‘celebrity status’ could generate interest.”

  Her grandmother took her time swiping through photos, aged fingers shaking as she held the phone.

  “I never knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It started off as a joke, then one job lead to another. I didn’t know how to tell you and I didn’t know if you would be proud or disappointed.”

  “Oh, Ellin,” shaken that something so simple could bring tears to her grandmother’s proud eyes, Ellin enveloped her in a hug, feeling the familiar yet thin arms around her. The arms that comforted her after her father left, when her mother died and were her strength, now trembled.

  “Gran, are you okay?”

  “Ellin, my beautiful wish come true. I’m so scared of dying before I can pass my language on. Do you think anyone will care?”

  “I’m sure, Gran. The internet will always find someone who cares.”

  A Billion Stars

  Ellin slammed closed her laptop. Nobody cared.

  It had been two weeks since Darius helped her to build an online campaign, suggesting how to use her budding communication skills and “model” status to generate publicity. Despite her natural shyness, she was willing to put herself in the public eye in order to help her family. Surely, someone out there would have cared about saving a dying language?

  Nothing but crickets. Such an Australian expression – a silence only broken by the sound of thousands of small insects batting their wings together.

  A bunch of losers wanted to hook up – or offered to help if she “helped them first.”

  A waste of time.

  Yet, every time she turned on the television or radio the news was full of meaningless stories promoting the stupid tech company. Who cared if the board wanted to hire a new chief executive and replace the “gorgeous Mason Winters.” The world should be more interested in real emergencies – kids dying of cancer, the planet dying of neglect – and a language dying out with no one caring.

  The more she heard about the “eligible billionaire” and his “disruptive technology company,” the more she wanted to run screaming down the streets, smashing every television.

  From all reports, he walked away with billions and now the company didn’t need him anymore. Fantastic, here she was working up to three jobs to put herself through university, trying her hardest to raise funds to do something meaningful, while on the other side of the country people were stockpiling untold wealth.

  Her grandmother’s diabetes had become harder to control. Any week, month or year soon, all the medications would cease being effective. Ellin couldn’t save her grandmother – but she had to fight harder to save her grandmother’s legacy.

  “It’s not just up to you, maybe we need to write it down, record some of her songs,” Birrani suggested on one of their camp outs. Just the two of them, underneath a billion starts in the dark sky. Inspiration came easy, so did seeing the hopelessness of expecting help.

  “I’m the one with the so-called connections and education. I wish it was enough.”

  In desperation, she called her modelling agent. “Paulie, It’s Ellin. I need you to book me on as many shows as you can.” She listened to his offer, grimacing, “Yes, sure, I’ll work the entire season – no complaining. I need you to do this.”

  Ellin looked out at the country she grew up hating and now loved more than she ever imagined. “How’s this for an idea – you bring the camera crew here and throw in some photographers. I’ve never played up being one of Australia’s top indigenous models before. Now I will. You wanted me to play the game and make you rich – well here’s your chance – do whatever you have to do – just get my story out there.”

  “You said they would never dare!” one by one, his long-time executives left the Board meeting, off to clear out their desks and prepare their staff for a massive restructure. Mason yelled at his new interim chief executive officer, chief financial officer and Derek. The last men standing after a vicious Board meeting. Derek called for a short break for everyone to cool down.

  Mason was beyond calm and reason. The money men had spoken.

  “Mr Winters, we appreciate everything you have done for Softli,” the interim CEO started.

  “You mean building my company from scratch? Giving jobs to thousands and changing the way other companies can replace their legacy systems quickly and for less capital cost?”

  “Mr Winters, we appreciate what you have done in the past, which is why the Board is keen to keep you on in an executive position with a broad media focus.”

  “A public puppet you mean.”

  “You would have a role, a meaningful role – promoting the future of Softli nationally and internationally.”

  “What about product design? What about my team?”

  “I’m sure we can find jobs for most of them, but we need to bring in fresh ideas to take Softli to the next step.”

  “What about loyalty, job security for these people. Some of them have been with me from the beginning.”

  “I thought you understood, by bringing in new money we would need to restructure and refocus the company to make it internationally competitive,” the CFO, once his closest advisor and friend stood off against him.

  “You are kicking me out of my own company!” Mason threw off the calming arm of Derek.

  “Mr Winters, Softli is no longer your company. The role is yours, perhaps you should take some time to consider whether you want it,” the newly appointed interim CEO invited him to the door of what once was his board room, now the scene of a corporate blood bath.

  Mason stormed out, only returning as the meeting broke up. His friends, people who had been with him from the beginning were either on probation or had already walked out in disgust.

  He had no words.

  “Mate, go home, get yourself a good night sleep. I’ll come by tomorrow morning with breakfast and we’ll think about your next move,” Derek started off as his consultant before becoming a close friend.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look, there really isn’t anything to do or say t
onight. Sleep and food. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “You’re on their side – you work for Softli.”

  “Not true,” Derek could be a cold, hard bastard but in this moment, Mason trusted Derek the friend as he said, “Read your contract more carefully – I signed on as your consultant, your independent advisor. I’ll only work for Softli if I want to. Right now, I don’t want to.”

  “Are you ready?” Paulie survived the journey, grudgingly until he saw the scenery. “These rocks, the grey green trees. Amazing colors! Add you and the clothes, and they won’t need another model in the catalogue. Any left-over photos, I’m putting together a portfolio – a whole fresh look for you.”

  “When does the presenter arrive?”

  “She doesn’t. The station wants to do a different take – the camera man will follow you as you introduce the world to your country and your grandmother. Give the story a distinctive, personal touch – your touch.”

  Ellin shook her head, almost tripping as she walked backwards, “I’m not a reporter.”

  “You will be a gorgeous model, introducing the world to your culture.”

  “I can’t.”

  “And yet, you will!”

  “Erin, It’s lovely to meet you,” the bubbly blonde host, Danielle had introduced Ellin to a national audience and now even forgot her name!

  “It’s Ellin, my grandmother named me.”

  “Ellin, a beautiful name, does it have a meaning?” The reporter didn’t skip a beat in making her mistake seem part of the introduction.

  “Thank you, it’s aboriginal for “wish”. I guess that’s why I’m here today - to find a way to capture my grandmother’s language – before she dies and a language that has existed for almost 60,000 years dies with her.”

  After putting the breakfast host in her place, Ellin warmed to the camera and the topic. She forced away tears, listening to her grandmother’s voice getting frailer by the day, yet still strong enough to sing away the bad spirits in a lullaby to a group of children. Calling to the hills to be strong for these children as their elders passed. In a language Ellin barely understood, the emotion shone through the cameras and into kitchens across the nation.