The Accidental Billionaires by Ben Mezrich

Author:Ben Mezrich [Mezrich, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-385-53219-8
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2009-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

What a long strange trip it’s been …

It isn’t difficult to imagine the details of that morning sometime in March of 2004, even though the moment itself became historical only in retrospect: Sean Parker’s eyes flashed open as he came awake to that sudden and musical thought bouncing around in his brain, a frenetic little ear worm let loose through the thin membrane of his aural canal, infecting his gray matter, powering up the synapses, flicking all the red lights to green. He grinned, as he usually did in the morning, staring up at a blank white ceiling, trying to remember where he was. What a long strange trip it’s been. He rubbed the last gasps of sleep out of his eyes, then stretched his arms up above his head, feeling the cool, plush material of the heavy down pillow—and it all came back to him.

He was lying on a bed pushed right up against a blandly colored wall of a little bedroom, his head sunk deep into that pillow. His hair was a mess, a tangle of brown-blond curls mushrooming out against the soft material of the pillowcase. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, but that was only because it was six in the morning; his Armani jacket, skinny-legged pitch-black DKNY jeans, and tailored Prada shirt were hanging from a hook on the back of the door to the bathroom.

What a long strange trip it’s been. His grin turned Cheshire, stretching out the edges of his lips so far it almost hurt. Yes, he knew exactly where he was—and it was a fucking awesome place to be.

He looked around his little bedroom, taking in the little wooden dresser, the bookshelf full of computer textbooks, the lamp in the corner, the sleeping laptop on the miniature side table by the bed. There were clothes strewn all over the place, on the floor, the bookshelf, even hanging from the lamp, but Sean didn’t mind because most of them were his clothes, and the ones that weren’t were pretty damn sexy. He saw a frilly bra and too short skirt, a tank top and tight, stylish belt—the kind of clothes that college girls wore on campuses all over California; even here, up north, where the palm trees were more often draped in fog than in sunlight. Thankfully, at Stanford, girls still dressed California, despite the school’s elite status. And of course, they were all blond. Let the angry brunettes have the Ivies, blond and pretty ruled the West.

Sean pushed himself up on one elbow. He wasn’t sure whose bra, skirt, tank top, and belt were in his room—he assumed it was either a guest of one of his roommates, or someone who had been there visiting him. He wasn’t certain why the clothes were in his room, either. He might have known the girl, he might not have. Either way, she probably knew him—or at least, she thought she did. It seemed like everybody at Stanford knew Sean Parker. Which was kind of funny, considering that he wasn’t a student there.

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