Page 27 of Game Changer

I’m about to find out since Mr. Knight just knocked on the door of my bar. I can’t say I’m surprised in the least since I’m the one who summoned him here after he sent me a text message this afternoon asking if his friend had reached out yet about booking the bar for a private function.

His friend had indeed called me yesterday. I was shocked when I realized that the man on the other end of the phone was Jasper Arison. Many consider Mr. Arison’s family New York royalty, so I was surprised that he made the call himself. He explained that he’s always been a big board game fan. We went over all the details, and he promised he’d send me a deposit to guarantee that Turquoise Crown will be closed the night in question so the retirement party for his trusted employee can go off without a hitch.

I steal another glance at the door to find William staring through the glass at me. As soon as he catches my eye, a broad smile slides over his lips.

I run my hand over my hair to smooth out any wayward strands before sprinting to the door to unlock it.

“Hey, Opal,” he greets me with another dazzling smile and what looks like a cup of coffee in his hand. “I got this for you.”

Even though it’s the thought that counts, I’ve already had three cups of coffee today, so I’ll take the obligatory polite sip before subtly placing it down somewhere. More caffeine is the last thing I need today.

I take the cup from him. “Thank you.”

As soon as I bring it near my lips, its fragrance warms me from the inside out.

“It’s that organic orange tea you like,” he explains. “I asked Chelsie to lower the water temperature a notch. It was too hot last time.”

This man thinks of everything. I take a sip. “It’s perfect, William.”

His gaze trails over me from head to toe. “It is.”

I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about me, but before I can give that much thought, his eyes catch on the reason I invited him here. He spots the special edition Turquoise Crown game on a table behind me.

He moves around me to head straight to it. “Is this what I think it is?”

Cradling the warm cup in both hands, I nod, even though he can’t see me. “What do you think it is?”

It’s a silly question because his reaction is all the evidence I need to tell me he knows that he’s looking at a special edition of the game he used to play as a kid.

He turns to look at me. “It’s a goddamn treasure. That’s what it is. When I was a kid, I tried to save up enough money to buy it. The toy store near our house had one for sale, but before I could get my hands on it, some asshole scooped it up. I was in the store that day, staring at the game because I did that a lot. All of a sudden, this guy wanders in and snatches it up. He said he thought it would look good on a shelf in his office.”

I don’t say anything because I can tell by his expression that there’s a lot more to this story.

“I did every odd job I could think of around the house to up my allowance, but my folks didn’t hand out more than five bucks a week, so I went to the neighbors to see if they could supplement my income.”

I take another sip of the tea. “How did that work out for you?”

“I practically broke my back raking leaves for Mrs. Callabero. She lived around the corner from us at this majestic brownstone. It had the biggest trees I’ve ever seen in front of it.”

Enjoying this tale of his quest to get his hands on the special edition of Hildy’s game, I motion for him to continue with a roll of my pointer finger in the air. “How much did you earn doing that?”

“I got a bottle of cold root beer and a chocolate bar. They were both personal favorites of mine at the time.” A raise of his eyebrows accompanies the chuckle that escapes him. “I was very clear that I was looking for money before I agreed to take on the job, but Mrs. Callabero told me to be grateful she gave me anything, so I thanked her.”

“You were a polite kid back then.”

“I’m still just as polite,” he notes. “The moral of this twisted story of my youth is to get every contract in writing with the terms spelled out clearly. I should have known that going in since my parents are both lawyers.”

“They both are?” I ask, mildly surprised to know that.

“It did not make for a fun childhood.” He grins. “I couldn’t get away with any bad shit because they’d be right there spelling out the potential consequences to me. I was eighteen before I realized that the standard punishment for jaywalking isn’t six months in a prison upstate.”

I let out a squeal of laughter as I point an accusatory finger at him. “You didn’t think that until you were eighteen.”

“I let my parents think I believed it until then.” One of his shoulders lifts in a half-shrug. “I realized when I was twelve and pulled that stunt in front of a police car. I was hauled off the street by the collar of my shirt and given a warning. When I begged the cop not to send me to prison, she laughed and told me I wouldn’t have to serve a day.”

I stare at him, trying to imagine what he was like as a kid. I don’t know him well, but something tells me that he’s always been the type of person to smile at a stranger.

“What’s on your mind, Opal?”

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