Page 70 of Yellow
Hugh, who was leaning against the wall, looked at him calmly. “Well now that you’re the spiritual advisor of an A-list actor maybe you’ll soon be able to afford something a little better.”
Adam snapped his head around and gave Hugh a pointed stare. “I didn’t say this was better, just bigger.”
Both men joined me in the other much bigger walk-in closet.
“This has been redone recently and I’m told there’s room for two hundred pairs of shoes on that wall.” Hugh pointed to a wall that had tilted shelves from floor to ceiling and a movable ladder like I had seen in libraries.
Adam crossed his arms and clearly swallowed a comment.
“My sister would love this house,” I said. “And this room in particular.”
“Then you should have brought her,” Adam replied.
“Oh, don’t be such a grumpy old man, Adam. Why can’t you just admit that money can buy you really nice things?”
“Money can buy really nice things,” he said dryly.
“If you could afford a house like this, wouldn’t you buy it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I would be distancing myself from the people I love the most.”
“Your tribe.”
“Yes.”
“But they could come and visit you.”
“Of course, but they might feel awkward about inviting me to their house if I lived in a freaking palace.”
“They would know you don’t care about things like that.”
He shrugged and we left it at that, although I had one burning question that I didn’t ask until we were back in my apartment and alone again.
“What if you met a woman who lived in a house like that house we just went to look at?”
Adam snorted.
“No, hear me out for a second. If you fell madly in love with a woman who was rich, would you hold it against her? Would you refuse to move in with her because she lived in a big house?”
“I’ve never met a Native woman with that much money, but I tell you what – if I meet her, I’ll be cool with her being rich, as long as she’s also kind and caring.”
“Oh, wow!” I exclaimed. “How could I forget your racist attitude toward those of us beneath your precious bloodlines?”
“I never said you were beneath us. It’s not a competition.”
“No, it certainly isn’t, since a competition would indicate every player had a real chance at winning, but you already made up your mind and reduced the participants to one racial group.”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “Don’t sit there and play all holy when you’ve done it too. Maybe not with race, but you’re never going to marry or even date a poor guy. Remember how you told me you always date other celebrities? You’re biased too.”
“What?” I gasped. “I almost slept with you, and believe me it wasn’t because of your fancy car or your million-dollar watch.”
“So why did you?” His eyes were burning.
“I… I…” Words were not forming in my brain.
