Page 73 of The Billionaires' Gamble
He’s always been a big hockey fan, and we’ve had lots of fun in that pool house shooting pucks at the virtual goalie.
“Wish I felt like using it.”
He gives my arm a gentle punch. “There’s always tomorrow.”
With no sign of Katherine or LaShonda in the main house, we head outside and cross the terrace. Past the glittering blue pool, there’s a smaller gray shingle structure flanked with white lattice and climbing roses.
“I don’t know if you have much of an appetite, but I had Marissa stock the fridge. There should be some things that are easy to heat up,” Pierce says, reaching for one of the double doors and pushing it wide.
Nostalgia hits the moment I cross the threshold. As a kid, this place was paradise. Comfortable couches, a big TV, all the snacks we could want, and tons of games. Now I appreciate the vaulted ceilings, quiet, and extra bedrooms.
“Come check this out, Gabe,” Ford says, leading the way through the living room to the arcade in the back.
I follow them, torn between nostalgia and melancholy. One side of the room is dominated by a sectional sofa. The wall opposite holds a large TV with gaming consoles galore. I wonder what Gabe’s favorite video game is.
The other side of the room is a deep alcove with a fancy shmancy projector that lets you try your hand at all sorts of different sports. An organizer on the wall holds assorted balls, golf clubs and hockey sticks. My favorite pastime here is trying to sink a puck into the net. Sometimes the virtual goalie hands you your ass, and sometimes I hold the stick high in victory.
Ford shows off the system to a stoic Gabe. He grunts in appreciation occasionally, but I can tell his mind is ten thousand miles away.
Ford must realize it, too. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Might watch a game.”
“You still a Scorpion fan?”
Ford cuts me a look, his brilliant blue eyes flashing. He and Pierce are so much alike. “Why do you say it like that?”
“I’m not saying it like anything.”
“Theyarelast in the league this year,” Gabe inserts, as if that explains everything.
“Once again destroying my faint hope that they’d make it to the playoffs.”
Gabe crosses to the sectional and settles on a cushion, dropping his forehead into his hands. “Never gonna happen while they’re in that tiny, temporary arena.”
A frustrated grumble escapes Ford, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. Alex and Pierce join us, and once again, I wait for a grilling about our intentions. But it doesn’t come, so I fill the silence.
“They’ve gotta get a better goalie.”
“Are you guys still going on about hockey?” Pierce knows we’re nuts about it, and lucky for us, he always supported our passion for the ice.
“Always,” Ford says with a smile.
“Come on. Let’s let them settle in. Been one hell of a day.”
I couldn’t agree more. “You can say that again.”
I follow them to the door and close it behind them. Then I’m back in the kitchen to mull the snack situation. We need to eat. It’s important, even when I don’t feel like it, like, say, now. I’m not sure my stomach can handle anything, but I’m going to try.
Marissa, bless her, left a tray, which I pile high with bottled water, some fruit, and a couple of sandwiches. I find Alex and Gabe sitting on either side of the L, looking more grim-faced than they have all day.
“I thought you had a handle on it,” Alex says, his deep voice soft, like he’s trying to pull his punches even though he’s frustrated as hell.
What did I just walk in on?
26
KINGSTON
Alex and Gabe pause as I place the tray of food on the tufted ottoman. “I figured we should eat something.”
