A promise made is a debt unpaid.
Bonus chapter of today.
...
Jake walked out of the front gates of Van Nuys High, flanked by Brandon and a few of the logistics crew. To the other students, it just looked like a younger kid hanging out with the cool seniors. To the faculty, it looked like a heartwarming example of "peer mentoring."
"See you tomorrow, Jake," Brandon said, nodding toward the white Volvo idling at the curb. "The AV Club shipment from the warehouse arrived. Malcolm says the soldering irons are top-tier."
"Excellent. Keep the inventory locked, Brandon. We don't want any shrinkage before the holiday rush."
Jake hopped into the passenger seat. Judith was waiting, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. She didn't ask how his day was; she knew Jake's days were always productive.
"Soccer practice today?" she asked, pulling into traffic.
"Before that, can we stop at the electronics boutique on Ventura? I need a specific SCSI cable for the server I'm building. It'll only take five minutes."
"Five minutes," Judith agreed. "And then we talk about the color palette for the guest room. I'm thinking Mediterranean Sand, but your father is insisting on Off-White because it's cheaper."
"Sand has more character," Jake mused. "And it hides the dust better. It's the more efficient choice."
The dining room table of the Harper household had been completely taken over by the artifacts of impending wealth. Glossy catalogs for imported Italian tile were stacked next to brochures for infinity pools and a rather ambitious pamphlet about fractional jet ownership that Judith had picked up in Beverly Hills.
Alan was tracing his finger over a set of blueprints, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
"If we knock out this load-bearing wall," Alan said, tapping the paper, "we can expand the master bath to include the steam shower. It's an eighty-thousand-dollar renovation, but with the line of credit opening in December, it's basically a rounding error."
Judith smiled, sipping a glass of wine. "And I talked to the contractor today. He says if we give him a lump-sum deposit of a hundred and fifty thousand, he can start the pool and the kitchen simultaneously. We could have it all done by March."
Jake was sitting at the far end of the table, eating Sour Skittles, his current favorite sweet treat.
"That's a very aggressive timeline, Mom," Jake said, not looking up from his candy. "You're going to have to stagger those payments out over a year or two, depending on Dad's billing hours at the clinic."
The room went completely silent.
Alan's finger stopped halfway across the blueprint, still resting on the outline of what was supposed to become Judith's steam shower, while Judith slowly lowered her wine glass with careful stillness.
"Stagger the payments?" Alan echoed, letting out a nervous little chuckle. "Jake, buddy, the SBLOC gives us access to two million dollars. We don't need to stagger anything. We just write the check."
Jake finally looked up, his brow furrowing in a perfectly executed mask of childish confusion. He tilted his head.
"Well, yes, the macro limit is two million. But I mean the disbursement cap for non-tax expenditures. You know, the matching clause?"
Alan and Judith stared at him.
"The... the what?" Judith asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
"The matching clause," Jake repeated, his tone bright and helpful, as if he were reminding them to take out the trash. "In the LLC charter. I thought Grandma Evelyn went over this with you guys when she finalized the paperwork?"
Alan swallowed hard. "Jake. What exactly does this clause say?"
"Oh, it's just standard fiduciary boilerplate," Jake said breezily, popping a Skittle into his mouth. "It states that the LLC can draw unlimited funds to pay for taxes, corporate duties, or reinvestments. But for personal expenditures, like steam showers or pools, the monthly draw is capped at a one-to-one match of the managing partner's earned income."
Alan's face drained of color. "Earned income."
"Right," Jake nodded happily. "Your chiropractic practice W-2s. So, if Dad's clinic brings home, say, ten thousand dollars this month, the LLC will release an additional ten thousand dollars from the credit line for you to spend on the house. It's a matching program."
Judith slowly turned her head to look at Alan. Her eyes were terrifying.
"Alan. Did you read the charter before you signed it?"
"It was sixty pages, Judith!" Alan squeaked, his voice cracking. "She handed it to me in a leather binder! She said it was ready to go! I just looked for the sticky notes and signed!"
"It's actually a brilliant guardrail," Jake offered gently, leaning forward with an earnest, supportive smile. "Grandma Evelyn is very sharp. She probably added it to ensure the portfolio's principal isn't drained by lifestyle creep. This way, the wealth is tied to Dad's productivity. It keeps us grounded. There is this bo-"
"Grounded?!" Judith exploded, interrupting Jake and standing up from the table. "Alan, you barely clear eight thousand dollars a month! That means our millionaire spending limit is eight thousand dollars!"
"I can take more shifts!" Alan stammered, sweating profusely. "I can work weekends! I'll do corporate seminars on posture! I'll... I'll crack every back in the San Fernando Valley!"
Jake watched the panic unfold with absolute, serene detachment. He knew exactly how his current parents behaved when they had too much money in his previous life, and that was ignoring the time Alan ran a Ponzi scheme.
He had privately called Evelyn two weeks ago and had a brief talk, expressing innocent fears that his dad might quit his job and become lazy if he had too much money.
Evelyn, who always viewed Alan as dangerously unmotivated, had happily slipped the clause in, completely unaware she was being manipulated by a nine-year-old, though with Evelyn, annoying Alan was probably just a bonus.
Jake didn't want his parents to blow the capital on yachts and bad renovations.
"Honestly, guys, I thought you knew," Jake said softly, sounding genuinely apologetic. He reached out and patted his mother's hand. "But look on the bright side, Mom. Dad is about to become the hardest-working chiropractor in California. That's something to be proud of."
Judith glared at the blueprints, then at her husband.
"You'd better start printing flyers, Alan. If I don't have my infinity pool by summer, I am going to make you sleep in it."
Alan nodded frantically, already reaching for his day planner.
Jake just smiled calmly and reached for another Sour Skittle.
The guardrails were officially in place, and the portfolio was protected.