Page 13 of The Game

“Lost the weight?”

“Yeah, he was in bad shape when he started at NYU. Our friend Fabian forced him through a daily gym routine and a strict diet. The soundtrack of college for me was him grumbling about eating rabbit food.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine him like that, big, I mean.”

I smile at her. “I think we’ve all changed a bit since college.”

She nods and closes her eyes again as she says, “What were you like in college?”

An idiot? Sucked in by a woman and unable to see the reality?

“Quiet.”

“The silent brooding type, huh?” Her eyes pop open, twinkling at me, and I laugh.

Her eyes drift shut again as we weave our way through the cross streets and past gleaming store windows. After twenty minutes or so, the car pulls up outside my apartment building. Thank God she can’t see the tiny space I inhabit here, one I can only afford because I took it when nobody wanted to live in the Meatpacking District. The place was full of drug addicts, and pedophiles used to prey on young girls in the park across the road. I think the guy I rent it from has sort of forgotten I’m here. But I’m also a reliable tenant: I sort stuff out for him, so he’s let me keep living here, despite the way the area has gentrified over the last ten years.

Her eyes blink open. She must have dozed off a while ago.

“God, I’m sorry. Did I fall asleep? Is this your building?”

I nod. “It was great to meet you, Anna.”

She reaches out her hand and squeezes mine. “Thank you.”

I step out of the car and stand on the sidewalk. As the driver pulls away, she gives me a little wave.

And I’m not sure why I feel so unbearably sad, like I missed something important in that whole conversation.

6

ADAM

Susie bounces into my office, dreadlocks pulled back from her face and bright yellow overalls slouching around her small frame. Susie used to sit on the corner of the main street near our building with her cat, playing her guitar for money. When I talked to her, she told me that Bandit was a talking point because other street performers typically had dogs and he gave her an angle and an ability to charge for photos. I liked the way she thought, so I always found some change for her. Turned out she’d worked as a street artist since she was sixteen, followed by a job in an industrial print studio, but was adamant she didn’t want to work in a company anymore. I wasn’t sure why.

One day, I was flustered and pissed and she asked me what was wrong. We’d had one of our worst months ever, and when I told her about it, she offered to help, and I realized she had a real flare for marketing. So, she ended up taking over not only the visual stuff we do, but everything else as well. I can only pay her peanuts but I’m so grateful she’s here and helping me. We have this conversation a lot: She says she’d still be on the streets if I didn’t put up with her crazy, and I tell her the company would be nowhere without her. She slaps a pile of newspapers down in front of me, and I look up from the printed circuit board I’m fiddling with to glower at her. She grins.

“I’d say you’re a hit.”

“A hit?”

“WHO IS ANNA TALANOVA’S NEW MAN?” the first headline screams at me from the papers strewn across my desk.

Oh fuck!

I shuffle them around as Susie slumps into the seat opposite me and holds up her hand ticking things off on her fingers as she talks. “I’ve had four calls from journalists this morning wanting an interview. Three conference organizers have been in touch to ask you to speak, and, get this, two calls from agents asking whether you’re interested in attending other events. With. Other. Women.” She taps the words out with her finger on the desk.

I stare at her. Shit. I didn’t brief her on this weird-ass thing that famous women do. “Ah yes, I got an invite via Janus from Anna Talanova’s agent. This is apparently something women in the public eye do. They look for men to accompany them to …” I wave my hand. “… things they have to go to.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s like …organized?” She rolls her lips together. Then she leans forward and whispers, “One of the agents said she’d been told you ‘understood exactly how to behave’ and were—and I quote—‘nonpredatory.’”

I frown at her. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you weren’t handsy … or anything worse.” She chews her cheek.

I think back to Anna’s slight … what would I call it? Nervousness? I wouldn’t dream of doing something like that to a woman.

“God, is that what happens?”

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