Page 26 of A Fool's Game
“Ainsley,” I respond, the unfamiliar syllables stumbling off my tongue. It’s strange, but I’m sure that’s the first time I’ve ever said the guy’s actual name.
He smiles, andI turn back to my dough.
I have exactly zero intention of acting like a jerk and causing any tension between Gem and I, but right now I don’t have any kind, gracious host-like things to say, so I decide it’s best to keep my mouth shut.
“I brought wine,” I hear Ainsley say behind me.
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to Gem, but the magic word has me turning, first real smile of the evening trying to force its way through my poker face.
He holds up a bag, and I wipe my hands on a towel and reach for it, taking care not to brush my fingers against his as I take the heavy canvas sack. It clinks as I settle it on the counter, making sure all four bottles are standing before I slide the bag down.
Kid did good.
I nod my approval as I examine each of the labels. He had no idea what I was cooking, so he must have just chosen a spectrum to be safe. I’m not unhappy with any of the options.
“Nice,” I say, not looking over at him.
He comes up beside me, too close, and lifts one of the bottles. “Can I open one?”
I take the bottle from his hand more forcefully than I intend. “I’ll do it.”
I need to get out of his space—out of his aura—as Gem would call it. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. I try to be cool as I cross the kitchen to the messy, jampacked utensil drawer where Gem and her roommates keep the wine key, as well as about a hundred useless kitchen items.
Gem and Ainsley are quiet behind me, and I can feel four eyes on my back. I should say something, but I don’t. Luckily, my lover knows me well enough to jump in.
“Let me give you a tour. This house is strange and wonderful.”
“Sounds great,” he answers.
“Wait.” I finally find my voice but it’s too loud. I turn, bottle in hand, and they’re both watching me. “Let me pour you some wine first.”
“Wine tour,” Gem chimes in, just as lovely and charismatic as always.
I slosh a heavy pour of the almost effervescent white into two stemless glasses and hand them over. Each of them takes the glass with a silent smile. I watch them walk down the hallway toward the massive, curving staircase that leads to the upper floor and disappear around the corner.
Then I pour myself a half glass and pound it.
Another and I slow down to savor a sip. It’s incredible. I don’t want to think about how much these bottles set the guy back or the fact that I’d never be able to splurge like this on wine for a casual dinner party.
When I finally hear their voices coming back down the hall, I’m rotating the focaccia in the oven and preparing to set a big pot of water to boil.
I greet them with a warm smile, compliments of the wine. “You show him all the secret passageways?”
Gem looks far more relaxed then she did when he first arrived, and the sight of it relaxes me.
Ainsley shakes his head in answer. “It’s incredible that they put those in.”
“She told you the history of it all?”
The house is like a relic from another time, standing its ground in the middle of an otherwise fully gentrified neighborhoodin Seattle. While everything else was being bulldozed to build more and more shiny, identical condo buildings, one of Gem’s roommates’ aunts has managed to keep this property afloat, leasing it out year after year to female artists. The backyard is straight out of a dystopian comic strip, no need for fencing as it’s surrounded on all three sides by five story buildings.
“Yeah. It’s really cool that they’ve gotten to keep it all these years. The house I grew up in in New York, where Gem lived for a while, has some of the same strange stuff from that time period. I guess it was more normal back then to need secret escape doors from every room.”
“Well, yours were more like servant exits. The ones in this house were definitely put there for smuggling,” Gem says.
I grind my teeth at the word servant and turn back to the stove. “Dinner’s going to be about fifteen minutes.”
“Can I help?”
