Mister Moneybags(9)

Great. There is no story now.

Mr. Truitt,

It would have been nice to know this information before we made you the feature and spent money to promote it. The entire point of the piece was to document your coming out from under the rock you’ve been hiding beneath. I don’t believe we have a story anymore.

His response came even quicker this time.

Ms. George,

I am giving you the opportunity to ask me anything you want. Anything. I think that makes for quite a damn good story, actually. But I do have two conditions. The first is that I don’t have to be photographed. I think that’s pretty fair, considering I would be an open book, otherwise. Second, for every personal question you ask me, I get to ask you a comparable one. And you have to answer me. Since you seem to think baring one’s soul to the public is an easy feat, it might be nice for you to experience what it’s like to be on the other side of the fence. Deal?

What was this guy smoking? Maybe I should just ask him, seeing as though I could ask him “anything.” What the hell. I needed this story. And even without his face, it was better than any other exclusive we’d gotten in a long time.

Mr. Truitt,

We have a deal. Shall we begin?

Ms. George,

I’m all yours. Start with the business questions. Get them out of the way. You may work for Finance Times, but let’s face it, people aren’t really interested in how many shares of my company I’ve sold, so much as how many women I’m dating.

We’d switched to the Gmail chat feature and spent the better part of an hour going back and forth on how he came to eventually run his father’s venture capital firm.

In the past five years alone, Dex Jr. had been commended for diversifying the workplace, particularly hiring more women and minorities. He was known for taking even bigger investment risks than his father had.

Dex went over what a typical day was like, chock full of meetings mostly over the phone with entrepreneurs and portfolio companies. Every client and employee signed a non-disclosure agreement whereby they could neither reveal personal information about Dex nor photograph him.

Dex said he often wouldn’t sleep for days when he was close to the finish line on a deal. He ate, slept, and breathed his job.

When we’d run the gamut on the business questions, I started hitting him with the personal ones. Except, I had to think long and hard about my questions, knowing he was apparently going to hit me right back with the same ones.

Bianca: Tell me about your childhood.

Dex: I was the only child of Dexter Truitt and Suzanne Montague-Truitt. My mother’s father, Stuart Montague, actually founded the company. That’s where the name Montague Enterprises comes from. Stuart didn’t have a son, so he left the company to my father with the understanding that I would take it over someday. My dad was pretty much an absentee father, though. My childhood was what you would expect—privileged. But my parents were never home much.

Bianca: You were raised by nannies, then?

Dex: Yes. Well, one in particular named Alice Sugarbaker. I called her Sugie.

A smile spread across my face. I thought that was kind of cute, this big, powerful man recalling the nickname for the woman who basically raised him.

Bianca: Where are your parents now?

Dex: Dad’s retired, living in Palm Beach with his third wife. My mother was his second marriage. Mom lives here in the city, never remarried. I’m closer to her than my father. Anyway, you’re getting a little ahead of yourself. It’s my turn. Tell me about your childhood, Bianca.

Was he seriously going to follow through with this game?

Bianca: Why do you even care?

Dex: Why wouldn’t I? You’re no less important than I am. So, tell me. Where did you grow up?

Bianca: Staten Island. Two hard-working parents. One sister.

Dex: Nice childhood?

Bianca: I had a good childhood up until the point when my parents divorced. Then things got ugly.

Dex: I get it. Same here on the divorce front, but I’m sorry to hear that.

Bianca: Thank you. Next question. When you got into Harvard, did you decide to major in business because it was something that truly interested you or because you always knew you would have to take over the family business?

Dex: Honestly? I didn’t know my ass from my elbow back then. So, yeah, I just majored in business because it seemed to make sense, given my inheritance and the expectations placed upon me. God, Bianca, these questions are f*cking boring.

I laughed out loud a little. Well, f*ck you, Dex!

Bianca: What do you suggest we talk about, then?

Dex: People don’t care about this shit. They read your magazine because they want to know how to be successful themselves. Where I went to school doesn’t matter. The truth is, this company was handed to me on a silver platter. I vowed not to waste that opportunity by making the same mistakes my father did. He wasn’t honest and screwed people out of a lot of money over the years. I can say that because it’s public knowledge now. I made a vow to do things differently, and that includes keeping out of the public eye.

Bianca: Why can’t you be an honest man and in the public eye at the same time?

Dex: I think I’ve proven that you don’t have to show your face to be successful. So, why bother dealing with all the social media and tabloid bullshit? They add no value. They add nothing but risk.

I couldn’t even argue with that.