Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Is it super competitive among you?” she asks.
I think about it. “Back then, for sure. Now, if you get us round a table and we’re playing a game, we’re going to want to bury each other. But generally in life, we’re at such different stages and…we’re competitive but we’re also rooting for each other. Does that make sense?”
She takes a mouthful of pasta and nods.
“Like my brothers Zach and Dax got really into trading Bitcoin back in the day. They made a lot of money, but they didn’t keep it to themselves. They got me into it a little bit, although I was never as dedicated as they were.”
“They wanted all of you to win.”
“Right,” I say. “But if we’re pitched against each other, we’re going to want to bring each other down.” I laugh as I say it. It sounds brutal because it is brutal. “What about you? You said you have a brother and a sister. How do they feel about your success?”
“They’re both supportive. I think it helps that they’re both really happy in their own worlds.”
“Right,” I say. “That’s key, isn’t it? If you’re happy, you don’t resent other people’s happiness.”
She turns pale in front of me.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder. “Yeah. So my sister is a homemaker. Her husband has his own financial consulting business and they live in the Chicago suburbs. They have a happy life from what I can see. My sister, Sarah, is pregnant, so I’ll be an auntie in a couple of months.”
“Being an uncle is the best. My niece is still a baby, but I can’t wait until she can walk and I can start to play football with her.”
“You’re living with her, right? Does she keep you up at night?”
I laugh. “No. I’m a heavy sleeper and I’m on a different floor to her.”
“Is it weird living with your brother and his wife? I know you want to save money and—”
“Me living with them has nothing to do with money.”
“But I get it, it’s a waste if you’re away so much.”
I smirk. “You don’t believe me.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, I’m just saying, it’s a waste. I get it.”
“It’s not about the money. I don’t like my flat being empty for months at a time. I also like to reconnect with my family if I haven’t seen them. Believe me, it’s not about the money.”
“Okay,” she says, but I can tell she doesn’t quite believe me. I can’t talk her into trusting me. She’s got to find the evidence for herself. “I’ve eaten enough,” she says. “I’m ready to beat you at Clue now.” She sets down her napkin and goes to collect the new game from my bag. “I’m definitely Miss Scarlett.”
“Really?” I say in my best whiney voice. “I want to be Miss Scarlett.”
She laughs. “You can be Professor Plum.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” I ask as she’s setting out the board and taking the pieces out of the box.
She looks up. Our eyes lock and I just can’t look away.
“Professor Plum has a crush on Miss Scarlett,” I confess. How could anyone not have a crush on Miss Scarlett? On Vivian? She’s a perfect mix of sweet and open and sexy and enigmatic.
A blush crawls up her neck and she breaks into a wide grin. “He does?”
“He absolutely does.”
“Good to know,” she says.
I take a final mouthful of pasta and then clear the table of our half-eaten room service as Vivian hums to herself while setting up the game.
“What are you humming—one of yours? Do you listen to your own music?”
“Just a melody that has ear-wormed into my brain. That’s how a new song is often born. A hook, part of a melody.”
“So you’re just going about your day, having a bath, making your bed, walking and bam, that’s it, it just pops in your ear?” I ask.
“It’s not as sudden as that. I usually don’t notice for a while. Even when I’m humming, I don’t notice. And then I do. And then I usually find a piano and work it into something.”
“Is that why you have a piano here? In case creativity strikes.” I sit opposite her and move the board so it’s central between us.
“Sure, and I like to play for funsies too. Not my stuff, but other things.” She turns the box around. “You know we call this Clue in America. Where does the ‘do’ come from?”
I shrug, wondering if she’ll play for me but also wondering if asking her would be overstepping. I don’t want to put her on the spot or make her think I think she’s here for my entertainment. But I’d like to hear her.
Casually, as if her actions don’t short-circuit my brain, she pulls the jumper off again and drapes it over the chair beside her.