Page 20 of Maybe You

The look he sends me feels a bit different this time. Less cocky. More calculating. Only for a moment though, before the usual attitude is back.

He squints. “I don’t understand the question.”

Most of what comes out of his mouth ends up being a complete mystery in the sense that I have no idea whether he’s being serious or if I’m being laughed at and just don’t realize.

“As in what’s your job,” I say.

He sends me another one of those amused looks that does very little to clarify what he’s thinking.

“I’m filthy rich,” he says.

It’s not a total surprise. He has that air about him. The sort of confidence having unlimited funds seems to give people. Not that I regularly hang out with rich people, but it’s the impression I’ve gotten over the years. Money eliminates a lot of problems.

“That’s your profession? Having money?”

He seems to consider it for a second before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pretty much.”

I can’t see his face, but his tone is light.

He finishes wiping down the last shower before he turns around and tosses the sponge into the bucket.

“Money makes money,” he says. “Money earns interest, and that earned interest then earns more interest. And the cycle continues until you have so much money that you can’t keep up with spending it all. And then you’ll have even more money. Ask me how I know.”

Deciphering his tone becomes even more difficult, and I wasn’t having much success with it as it was. He looks completely relaxed, he sounds completely relaxed, and yet there’s something about how he says all of it that feels decidedly not relaxed.

Or maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part, because let’s be honest here, everything that just came out of his mouth is goddamn obnoxious, and everything he apparently is is also everything I stand against.

“Well. A charmed life, I guess.” It’s all I can think to say in the end.

He tilts his head to the side the slightest bit. The cocky smile is firmly in place again.

“You bet,” he says in that tone again. The relaxed one that feels unrelaxed. He picks up the bucket. “So to answer your question, I do absolutely nothing for a living.”

I finish mopping the floor and empty the bucket of dirty water before I put the mop away and wrestle the pressure washer out. Sutton grabs it from me wordlessly and starts towing it toward the pool area.

“But what do you do all day?” I ask as I follow him. I’m genuinely interested now because my own days are filled with school and studying and work, so I’m not sure I’d even know what to do if I had nothing planned at all for months or even years on end.

He throws me an amused look over his shoulder.

“Depends on what I feel like doing. Although, if you’re worried I’m bored, you can come home with me. I’m sure we can find a pleasurable way to kill a few hours.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind for when I’m in a charitable mood.”

“It’s a standing offer, so take me up on it whenever.”

Once we get to the pool area, he sets up the pressure washer and proceeds to… Yeah, I can’t even lie, he proceeds to clean the whole place like a pro. Like he’s done it before. Come to think of it, I didn’t need to teach him to clean or redo his work earlier either, because he was pretty damn proficient then, too.

Which is weird, because it doesn’t exactly seem to fit with the image of a rich slacker he just painted for me.

And now I have nothing to do because he’s doing my work for me and doing it quickly and well, so in the end, I just sort of hover by the wall and watch him.

“I feel like I deserve an award,” he declares once he’s finished with the pressure cleaner.

“Aww. And here I didn’t think to bring a participation trophy for a…” I take him in, trying to gauge his age. Mid-twenties? Late twenties? I give up after a little bit. “How old are you?”

“Legal. I swear.”

I close my eyes and mutter, “Somebody give me strength,” under my breath, which makes him laugh out loud.

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