Medical Center. Office.
"You know about Ellis Care Home?" Adam asked after a thoughtful pause, looking at Mike, who was staring back at him.
"Of course I do!" Mike blinked, then lit up with excitement. "Wait, you mean…?"
"If you're up for it, I can help get your grandma in there," Adam said with a smile. "I figure you'd feel a lot better knowing she's there, right?"
"Absolutely, I'm in!" Mike practically shouted, over the moon.
Ever since the Golden Light Nursing Home scandal broke, medical care and elder homes had become a huge worry for anyone in the know. Mike was no exception. He'd been faking it as a lawyer, throwing around fancy legal jargon to intimidate nursing home staff into treating his grandma right. Even then, he wasn't at ease—he'd upped his visits from once a month to three or four.
He'd heard of Ellis Care Home and even scoped it out in person. It was legit—a rare, no-nonsense place. But it wasn't for just anyone. They prioritized poor, lonely seniors with no family, then independent, successful folks willing to drop big donations. Even after that, there was another round of screening.
The criteria weren't spelled out, but with Mike's smarts and observation skills, he'd figured it out during his visit. They wanted peaceful, good-hearted people—making sure nice folks got a happy retirement. That only made him want it more. To him, his grandma was the definition of a good person and totally deserved a spot. The only thing holding her back? Him, her grandson.
It drove him nuts. So when Adam brought this up, hourly pay didn't even cross his mind. If his grandma could get in, he'd tutor for free, no question. Imagining her living there, surrounded by kind, same-age friends, enjoying her days and holidays with him—pure family bliss? That was the dream. She wasn't just his grandma; she was his whole world. With his photographic memory, he could recall every detail of his life—her taking in a bed-wetting kid like him, raising him single-handedly. She earned this kind of golden years.
"Heh," Adam chuckled. "I've got two conditions."
Today, he'd learned the joy of having a famous charity in his pocket. Talk about a happy surprise!
"Name 'em," Mike said, nodding eagerly.
"First up: Jill's studies," Adam started. "She's been a spoiled little princess her whole life. Majored in fashion buying in college. The LSAT's all about reading and logic, sure, but getting her to a 175-plus score? That's a tall order. And we want her to grow through this—finding a love for learning and building good habits. That's on you too. We need your expertise, yeah, but also your patience and some serious skills to pull it off."
"No problem," Mike said confidently. "I'll give it everything I've got."
"Cool," Adam nodded. "Second condition might sound a little rude, but it's non-negotiable: you've gotta ditch that cologne."
"…" Mike froze. "Huh?"
"That cologne you're wearing? I can't deal with it," Adam said, giving him a pointed look. "My buddy Sheldon's got a thing about it—says his uncle always reeked of the same stuff. He thinks it's harsh and stinks. Me, I'm a doctor—I hate anything that messes with the nervous system, like that 'cologne' of yours. You get me?"
In TV land, "cologne" is the catch-all for men's fragrances. Pretty much every guy uses it—body chemistry and all that. Same reason everyone, guy or girl, showers every morning before heading out. Emmm. Kinda like a pre-game courtesy to the other team.
Sheldon, though? He's oblivious to normal stuff. Every time he saw his uncle, that smell was there, so he just assumed it was some weird signature cologne.
"...Got it," Mike said, catching on fast.
Last night, he'd been partying with Trevor. Didn't realize the scent was still clinging to him.
"That cologne—did your buddy, the one who got you into selling test answers and tanked your future, give it to you?" Adam asked, playing dumb. "If so, how can I trust your word? Outside temptation from friends, plus whatever's still hooked into you physically—it's tough to stick to promises. You know I'm bringing you on to lift Jill up, not drag her down. Can you put my worries to rest?"
"That friend's dead," Mike said quietly after a long pause.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Adam replied, shaking his head. "But that doesn't fully ease my mind. The friend was just the external push—the real issue's you. If you didn't want that cologne, no one could force it on you. Just like when you first sold those answers—it was your call, your move. Now that buddy's gone, sure, but how do I know you'll stay on the straight and narrow, not cut corners the second things get tough?"
"...I can't prove it," Mike admitted, his eyes dimming.
"That's a shame," Adam said. "Come find me when you're truly set on this—no more dodging the hard stuff with shortcuts. For now, go spend some time with your grandma. Talk to her, really ask what she wants you to be. You've got that photographic memory, right? Lock this moment, this convo, in your head. Set it as your daily wake-up alarm. Next time you're tempted to lean on that cologne, pull this up. Unless, of course, your love for her isn't deep enough, or her hopes for you don't matter that much. Then just ignore me."
"I love my grandma!" Mike shot back, bristling.
"Then prove it with actions!" Adam grinned. "I'll give you a week. Come back with real resolve, and I'll give you the shot. If you can't hack it, don't bother—I'll see right through you."
Easy wins don't mean much. Whether Mike Ross could truly turn himself around was up to him. If he couldn't step up even now, it'd mean his willpower's too weak or his love for his grandma's too shallow. Either way, Adam wouldn't waste his time. No matter how brilliant, a guy like that wasn't worth keeping close.
"I'll be back," Mike said, locking eyes with Adam for a moment before heading out. At the door, he turned and added it again.
"I hope you will," Adam said sincerely.
Forget Mike helping Jill or maybe even Adam down the line—just his photographic memory and insane ability to grasp anything (except maybe math and science) screamed high-IQ goldmine. With that setup and that face? No way he wasn't a lead in some TV drama—Adam wouldn't buy otherwise.
A transformed Mike as a friend? That'd be an instant boost—wisdom points, strength points, the works. The wisdom bump might even be huge. How could Adam not want him on board?
But only if he really changed. Otherwise, the perks wouldn't outweigh the risks.
Adam's IQ had already crossed the 180 genius line—past that, gains slowed down big time. Made sense. Once you're that high, flipping the script takes way more juice and time. So he was chill about wisdom boosts these days. Nice if they happened, no sweat if they didn't.
Mike walked out, determination etched on his face.
(End of Chapter)