Page 15 of The Fool

“Oh, sure, sorry, yeah,” I fluster, feeling a creeping blush all over my face and neck, most likely due to my inability to speak at all coherently in front of him and that wicked grin of his. He laughs knowingly; I guess he has this effect on many women.

Still blushing, I shuffle out of my seat and begin walking over with my book in hand. I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t put it away but I’m sure Nick’s disarming presence had something to do with it.Cool, Bea, as always, really cool.

Nathaniel doesn’t even bother to look up at me when I arrive, so I just slide in and sit next to him without any words. He continues to tap away on his keyboard while sipping at his glass of something amber and alcoholic. No acknowledgment whatsoever. I’m obviously not worthy of his time or his manners.

Eventually, I cough to clear my throat, and to also let him know that I’m here, waiting, and ready to do his bidding.

“Mr Clayton said you wanted to run through some things with me,” I murmur when I realize he’s not going to relieve me of my awkwardness and speak to me.

“Yes, ready?”

Great, no small talk or polite greeting of any kind, just more Nathaniel Carter rudeness.

“Ready,” I reply, clutching my phone, ready to type.

“We’ll be meeting with various companies; the schedule has been emailed to you. Double-check the times and make sure you are there at least fifteen minutes beforehand. You are to take minutes, have relevant details at the ready, and make sure you personally know information about the attendees. As soon as we arrive in London, I need you to arrange to have some flowers sent to Miss Vivian Spencer, along with an invitation to have dinner with me on Wednesday night. You need to arrange the restaurant, somewhere impressive, somewhere…romantic.”

He pauses for a moment and smiles to himself, as if in deep thought over what he is going to do to Miss Vivian Spencer after their romantic dinner.

“Time?” I ask robotically.

“About eight should be fine. Please arrange for some food to be brought to the apartments so we have breakfast and other essentials available. Also, email the office to let them know we have arrived and make sure you keep them posted on all details surrounding our meetings and developments.”

“Is that all, Mr Carter?” I finally ask when he offers nothing other than a slurp of his drink. “I take it you won’t be needing my services in the evenings?”

“That’s all for now,” he says, but watches me as I switch my phone back to its home page. “And no, I do not foresee me needing your services in the evenings. You will be free to do as you wish. Who is that?”

He juts his chin out, pointing it toward the screensaver on my phone. At first, I frown over his sudden interest in my phone, along with the rather impromptu question, but eventually, look down to see a picture of Ben and me. We’re actually smiling together; Mom must have taken it.

“Oh, that’s my big brother,” I reply, smiling affectionately at the picture for a moment or two.

“The one you live with?”

“Yes,” I reply slowly, having no idea as to where this is going. “He’s the only one I have.”

“He was the guy who picked you up last night,” he states, and I nod. “And the girl on the bike?” he asks, which only adds to the weirdness of this conversation.

“She’s my brother’s girlfriend, Leah,” I answer, hoping this is the end of the strange conversation. But then he looks at the book in my hand and raises his brow with what appears to be curiosity.

“Ben Jonson?” he asks while pointing at the book. “He’s a play-write, isn’t he?”

I offer nothing other than a slow nod of my head, still too stunned to answer him with anything more intellectual.

“I’m not familiar with his work, but I’ve heard of him, mainly through Lily” he explains. “She studied him at college and raves on about him and Shakespeare all the time. Do you often read old English plays?”

“I read a range of things, but I do like Jonson and Shakespeare, yes,” I reply, relieved at finally being able to communicate something beyond a nod and a frown. However, from the look on his face, I sense he’s waiting for me to elaborate. “I’m named after one of Shakespeare’s characters fromMuch Ado About Nothing. Beatrice is a strong female role model, and my mother was a fan of his comedies, so she named me after her. She used to watch the film adaptations with me, then took me to see a few plays in the theatre. I didn’t read them properly until I turned into a teen and began studying them at school. My English teacher introduced Jonson to me when I was a junior. I’ve always wanted to see this live in the theatre, but I am yet to find anywhere that shows it. As far as dark comedy goes, this is by far my favorite. Though, Beatrice will always have a special place in my heart; how could she not?”

“How very…romanticof you,” he says with a smug smirk on his face, one that tells me he will never take me seriously, even when discussing the merits of seventeenth-century literature.

“I wouldn’t callVolponeromantic; it’s about the lust and greed of already wealthy and powerful men. Volpone seeks to spend the night with another man’s young and beautiful wife, which her husband agrees to in the hopes that he will be made the sole heir to Volpone’s vast fortune. However, their plans inevitably fail, and they all get their just desserts in the end. You should read it if you can, I think you’d learn a lot from it.”

Feeling a little smug, I give him a wide, fake, innocent grin. All I need to do is bat my eyelashes and he’d totally be able to guess I was just mocking him.

Nathaniel looks at me in wonder, as though I have surprised him, both in my reading choice and my open insult. For a moment or two, he sips his drink, all the while looking pensive.

“Is that whatyouthink should happen?” he eventually asks. “That all ‘baddies’ should get their ‘just desserts’?”

“I’m not naïve, Mr Carter,” I reply, “I do not believe in baddies and goodies, for everyone has the potential to be both. I also know that those who do bad things do not necessarily get what’s coming to them. However, it would be nice to believe that no crime goes unpunished.”

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