Page 77 of The Bet
“What is it?” she asked, staring at it, but not taking it.
“Here, have a look,” he insisted, and gave it to her. “Something that will solve your problem.” She had scratches on her chin and on the side of her face, making him wonder what the fuck had happened.
“What happened?” he asked, nodding at her face.
“Long story.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Sorry, come in.”
She lifted the lid and peeked at the sleek shiny surface of the MacBook Pro. He hoped this would put an end to their incompatibility problems. He’d write the purchase off as a business expenses, and it would earn him bonus points. Win-win.
“For me?” Izzy asked, looking stunned. The kind of stunned girls looked like when he bought them a trinket from Tiffany. “You bought me this?”
“It’s a business expense, not a personal gift.”
She looked up, “I know. I get it, but … uh—you didn’t need to.” He followed her into the living-room.
“Shit,” said a girl who was lying on one of the sofas. Her leg rested on a huge velvet green ottoman that looked like it was big enough to seat two people. She sat up with her mouth open as soon as he walked in. “Xavier Stone?” she gasped. Now,thatwas the kind of response he was more accustomed to. He flashed a brilliant smile at her, and saw that she wore an ankle brace. To the side of the couch lay a pair of crutches. “Hi,” he said.
“This is Cara, my roommate, this is Xavier.” Izzy made the introduction in a flat voice. He smiled at the roommate again. “What happened?”
“Oh, this?” her friend replied, “It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s nothing.”
“That’s not what you said when you were bawling your eyes out at the hospital,” retorted Izzy.
“I wasn’t bawling!” her friend protested. “I wasn’t,” she said, turning to him, her voice softer, as she flashed him the kind of smile he was used to.
“What’s that?”
“A MacBook Pro,” Izzy told her.
“You bought her aMacBook Pro?” Her friend made the kind of appreciative noises that he wished Izzy would make. “That costs almost as much as our rent.”
“It makes sense, now that she’s working for me,” he explained, trying to be casual about it.
“But I’m not a Mac girl,” said Izzy. She said it the way Gisele would have said she wasn’t a Prada girl. “I’m Windows all the way.”
What the fuck was she complaining about now?
“But we won’t have that spreadsheet problem you keep moaning about,” he replied, irked by her less-than-stellar reaction.
“I’m not used to the Mac.”
For fuck’s sake. What did it take to put a smile on this girl’s face? “You said you have problems opening my spreadsheets. This will fix it.”
“But it’s a Mac.”
“I know. I bought the damn thing.”
“Shut up and stop whining, Iz.”
“Don’t you like it?” he asked, her reaction grating on his nerves like fingernails on a blackboard.
“Uh, yes. Of course I do. It’s a Mac, what’s not to like. It’s just that I’m not used to it.”
“You’ll get used to it. You’re a smart girl, how hard can it be?
