deception and ignorance, but it isn't―it's human.
Desiderius Erasmus
Putting on the Ritz?
It's weird when you're at either end of the economic system.
When I was rich, I mistrusted women who expressed interest in me. Now that I'm poor, I feel the same way―why would a gorgeous girl like Greer waste her time seeking me out?
I'm not particularly handsome and I have little to offer in terms of material possessions. I mean, hell, the girl is buying my lunch.
Mind you, at a fast food restaurant, but nonetheless...
And then it dawns on me―she's been asking all the questions and I don't even know what she does for a living.
I still don't know if she's a cop, but she's got those same type of skills.
I wouldn't doubt she's a detective and my ex-partner's lawyers may have convinced her I'm hiding my wealth and there's more money they can bleed from me.
Now I'm worried. I need answers to these questions, but I got to admit this girl is good―she's got mad skills and has opened me like a can of beans...
and I spilled them right into her lap. Eeesh, disgusting!
"A penny for your thoughts," she smiles, noticing my serious face.
"Naw, you wouldn't want them―they're not worth that much."
"Either you're whacked up with bitterness or your caught in spiral of self-pity―either way, it's not helping your cause."
"My 'cause'―what exactly is that?"
"Rebels always have a cause. Way I see it, you're a fighter and won't take this lying down. I figure you were defrauded and not just by your partner―he's had others who helped him, confederates who are more skilful that he's paid off. Question is, who are they and what's their interest in your demise?"
I stop the car in Harvey's parking lot.
"Okay, who are you really―are you a cop?"
"A cop?" she gasps, then bursts out laughing. "I am definitely not a cop."
"Then what are you? What do you do for a living?"
"I write for the Toronto Star."
"You're a newspaper reporter?" I shout, the tone of my voice going up an octave. "So, this was all a set up―our 'accidental' meeting in the pub― you showing up today and sympathizing like an agony aunt."
She shakes her head and says adamantly, "You got it all wrong. I had no idea you were the Cole Stevens, the bankrupted millionaire property developer until you began fleshing out the details. Even when I scoped out where you lived, nothing about you suggested wealth―hell, you were boozing at The Artful Dodger―not exactly, high class."
"Then why were you so interested in me?"
"Oh God, this will sound so lame...I'm attracted to strays. You looked lost and had this mixture of little boy, grown man looks. You were a mess and it makes you look adorable."
I tilt my head back in the seat and close my eyes.
"Adorable, huh?"
"Sorry, I told you it would sound lame. No one else gets me."
"I do," I whisper.
Her eyes are wide."You do?" she asks, stunned by my reply.
I nod. "I'm the same way, I pick up strays...but you...you're gorgeous, and no way I could figure out why you'd even waste your breath on me."
She smirks knowingly, "But now it makes sense, huh? Guess we're both cut from the same cloth."
"I don't know if I'd say that, but I am hungry and you promised me dinner."
"So, it sounds like a case of, Feed me I'm yours?"
"Something like that," I chuckle.
"Well, let's eat and I'll tell you my life story."
"Sounds like a plan," I say, squeezing her hand.
Her eyes say, Thank you... but for what?
Maybe just believing her, giving her the benefit of the doubt.
Damn! I'm falling into like with this girl...
Yeah, nothing like complicating my life.