Page 35 of Fake It 'til You Make It

He raises an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been told or you’ve been doing internet research on me?’

Embarrassing. ‘I’ve been doing due diligence on my nuisance neighbor. I’d like to know who I’m going to have to call the cops on.’

He laughs and I get a mini buzz from his finding me amusing. I can be funny. Iamfunny. People just don’t often find me as funny as I find myself. Their problem.

Wow, three proseccos and a beer are going to my head.

‘I am based in San Francisco, as it happens. I’m here temporarily.’

‘How temporary is temporarily? I mean, when will I be relieved of the relentless banging above my apartment?’

He smiles into his beer bottle, then says, ‘My banging balls will be going home soon.’

Banging balls? Urgh. Crass. I turn to gesture around theroom of increasingly rowdy people. ‘Your fans will be devastated.’ As I look around, I’m reminded of the shelved, signed baseballs around the lounge and the proverbial penny drops – he throws the balls off the floor, or the wall, or somewhere. Banging balls.

His eyes narrow on me as I silently draw this conclusion. ‘You should be careful typecasting, Fluffy Boots. You might find your assumptions lead you down some wrong rabbit holes.’

‘Hmm, well, my days of trusting have been curtailed recently.’

He nods, and seems sincere when he tells me, ‘I can understand that.’

Shifting so that he’s leaning forward on the bench top and watching the room of people alongside me, he asks, ‘How about you? Is New York home? I think I can hear a Canadian accent?’

‘New York has been home for more than four years. I’m originally from a small town on the edge of Banff National Park.’

‘Do you ski?’

‘Yes. And I board. But I prefer hiking to both.’

‘Same.’

‘Really? You seem like a guy who likes fast sports to me.’

‘Again with the typecasting. I enjoy the adrenaline rush but you can’t take in your surroundings when you’re concentrating on flying down a mountain. I like bouldering, hiking, being outdoors.’

‘Being one with nature? Finding yourself?’ I tease. But the truth is, that’s my favorite thing about hiking. Rolling mountains, drifting clouds, fluttering butterflies, breathing in clean air. Forgetting life below for a few hours.

I expect him to retort playfully but he doesn’t. Instead, he continues to stare at the room in front of us and then says, ‘Life can be noisy sometimes. It’s nice to escape. To do something with no competition. No winners and losers.’

Of course, his job is all about winning and losing. Who’s the best, the fastest, the strongest. I nod.

‘Speaking of which,’ he says, patting his hands down on the counter as if he’s had an epiphany. ‘I think my brother has a VR game box. Fancy it?’

I finish my beer, which seems to have made me brave or stupid, deciding to take on a Major League Baseball player.

‘No baseball,’ I say. ‘And if I win, you have to quit banging balls every night.’

That smirk is back. He’s clearly a fan of a crude innuendo. ‘And if I win?’

‘What do you want?’

He tuts as he ponders. ‘You have to help me with the clean up tomorrow morning.’

I shrug. ‘Fine. You’re on because I won’t lose.’

In truth, I might lose. I’ve never played a virtual reality game – I wore a VR headset once in a museum but that’s my lot.

Nevertheless, the possibility of stopping that incessant noise every day is worth the risk of clearing up a few beer bottles. After all, it’s the reason I got roped into being at this party in my lounge pants and slippers, so it’s worth a shot.

---