Cruel Money

by K. A. Linde

  “And is that why you have Percy’s ring on your finger?”

  She rolled over onto her stomach and smirked. “Jealous?”

  I ignored her and turned to my latest entry. I scratched notes in the margin as the idea I’d had on Warren’s yacht about Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics finally came together.

  “Are you writing about me?”

  “Uh-huh,” I murmured.

  “What does it say? You never let me read your work.”

  “It says you’re a bitch.”

  Katherine scoffed. “Liar.”

  I grinned up at her. “You haven’t read it. How would you know?”

  “Because I know you, Penn Kensington.”

  I added another note with a sentence reminder about the treatise I wanted to decipher. Then, I stuck the pen in the notebook and tossed it onto the table.

  “Why are you so obsessed with my notebook?”

  “Because you’re always writing in that damn thing. Who wouldn’t be interested in it? You never let us read it.”

  “You’ll just have to die of curiosity, I suppose.”

  Katherine rolled her eyes and then slinked off of the bed. Her steps were predatory as she moved toward me. I just stared back, impassive. Katherine and I had been playing another sort of game for a very long time. One that didn’t have a winner. It usually resulted in anger or sex or tears or screaming. Sometimes, all of the above. It never ended well. Fuck, it never started well.

  We were great as friends. But we were terrible—utterly fucking terrible—as anything else. She knew it. I knew it.

  And still, she straddled my lap in her tiny lingerie-clad body and brushed her fingers up into my hair.

  “Let’s play something else tonight,” she purred.

  I kept my face blank, neutral. “I’ll pass.”

  “It’ll be fun.”

  “You’re not going to win this way,” I told her evenly.

  “Who said anything about winning? Maybe I just want you.”

  I scoffed and stood, dropping her onto her ass. “We’re playing one game, Katherine.” I wielded her full name like a weapon. “I’m not interested in any others.”

  She somehow made scrambling to her feet look graceful, but I could see the venom in that look. Here came the anger…and probably the screaming. Though I never knew which side of Katherine I’d get.

  “I was just teasing,” she finally said. “You can restrain yourself.”

  Restrain myself. Fuck. Restrain myself?

  Sometimes, I swore she said things just to piss me off. There was a reason I’d stepped away from my family. That I’d stepped away from it all. I loved my crew fiercely. But it was so easy to backslide around them, around Katherine.

  “Were you?”

  “Was I what?” she asked, stopping halfway to the door.

  “Teasing?”

  “Obviously. Watching you make a fool out of yourself is a fun sport. I like to watch myself win without lifting a finger.”

  “As if you’re not playing yet.”

  She grinned wickedly and then gingerly stepped back across the room. She ran one manicured nail down my cheek. “When I play, you’ll never see my moves coming.”

  Then, she winked and sauntered out of my room.

  I sank back into the chair. Good riddance.

  As much as she irritated me, I couldn’t help but worry about what moves she was already planning. The one thing I did know about Katherine was to never, ever underestimate her.

  Natalie

  10

  It was Monday morning, and the crew had been gone a whole twenty-four hours. They’d left the day before without fanfare. Now, I was back to my regularly scheduled programming.

  My arms cut through the water as I swam laps to stay fit. I’d been on my high school swim team and even competed a few years in college. It calmed all the voices and let me concentrate. Or at least, it usually did.

  I flipped at the next edge and pushed off the wall like it was a spring before darting to the other side. This was supposed to be relaxing and not filled with thoughts of a guy who had flitted in and out of my life as easily as he had six years ago.

  At least I hadn’t slept with him this time.

  I came up for air. My heart was racing, and I took deep breaths, gulping in oxygen after my workout. I snagged my water bottle and guzzled half of it. Then, I leaned my elbows against the side of the pool and stared out to the ocean.

  It was a beautiful day with the high still in the mid-80s. The first round of consults for the renovations would be here this afternoon. The job was getting real. That meant I needed to focus less on the events of this weekend and more on the manuscript sitting unfinished on my computer. I had two months to finish my draft. I could make this book the one.

  Suddenly, I heard a strange jingling noise coming from the house. I turned toward the noise with a furrowed brow. What the hell was that?

  And there it was again.

  Had I left a door open or something? I hadn’t turned the TV on since I got here. Even Netflix hadn’t been switched on. Still, the noise persisted.

  Then, to my utter shock, a tiny yet incredibly long-legged puppy bounded out of the back door and onto the deck.

  “Oh my goodness,” I crooned.

  I pushed off and moved to the other side of the pool. The little puppy sprang right over to me in his cute, slightly uncoordinated way. I held my hand out to him, and he licked it and then my nose a couple of times in greeting.

  “Where did you come from?”

  I hauled myself out of the pool and sat on the edge. The puppy nudged its way into my lap and tried to find a way to get his awkward limbs all onto me. I petted his shiny gray coat and rubbed its cute too-big-for-its-head ears.

  Then, footsteps followed, and I heard, “Aristotle!”

  The puppy nuzzled down in my lap and nudged my hand to keep petting him. “We need to figure out who you belong to.”

  But the answer was there in the doorway before I even had a chance to stand.

  “There you are!” Penn said with a sigh. “I knew that you were going to be trouble.”

  I stared up at him in shock. “What are you doing here?” I gasped.

  “Just getting out of your way.”

  I scooped up the puppy and held him in my arms as I stood. This…made no sense. Penn had left yesterday with all of his friends and all of his problems. He wasn’t supposed to show back on Monday morning. It made no sense.

  “You were supposed to leave yesterday. Why are you back? Did you forget something? Do you need me to look for it, so you can be on your way?”

  “Well, you’ve found what I was looking for.” He pointed at the dog clutched in my arms. “Natalie, meet Aristotle.”

  “You named your dog Aristotle?” I asked in disbelief. “How mean are you?”

  Penn laughed, and it was a light, musical thing. “At the time, it seemed like the perfect name. But, after his actions the past couple of weeks, I think he is far more belligerent and might have been a better Nietzsche.”

  “Why do you hate your puppy?”

  “I don’t hate him.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, scratching Aristotle’s ears. “I won’t call you that ridiculous name. From now on, you’ll be…Totle.” Totle’s ears perked up, and he licked me in the face. I giggled. “You like that, huh?”

  “You are not calling my dog Totle.”

  “Well, I’m not calling him Aristotle. You must have lost your mind. And, anyway…you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

  He sighed and took another step outside. “Can I have the dog back first?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  He slid his hands into his pockets and shook his head at me. I could see the machinations working in his mind. Trying to figure out how to not make me mad at him while also somehow getting his dog back. I was pretty sure he was going to fail on both accounts.

  “I’m on sabbatical this semester.�
�

  “Okay.” I had a vague idea of what sabbatical was, but my blank stare must have been enough to trigger him to explain.

  “A professor can take a semester off from teaching to accomplish a specific goal. Sometimes to finish a project or run a journal or travel for research. That sort of thing. Most assistant professors don’t get a semester of sabbatical. It’s given out after you get tenure.”

  “But you’re getting it…pre-tenure?”

  “Yes. I made a case for getting the semester off to finish my book project. I had enough riding on it that they awarded it to me. It’s the book that I’m hoping will get me tenure at Columbia, but we’ll see about that in another year or two.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to keep it all straight. “So, you’re writing a book.”

  “Yes. I have been working on it since graduate school, but I wanted to have a deep dive into the material to get it all into place. I have an advanced contract with Cambridge for it. So, I can’t procrastinate on it anymore.”

  My head swam with all the new information. Sabbatical. Tenure at Columbia. Advance contract at Cambridge. I found for a split second that I was insanely jealous of his life. Obviously, he’d put the work in, and I had no interest in academia, but a contract for a book was such a dream.

  “That all sounds…amazing,” I admitted. “But what does it have to do with why you’re here?”

  “I planned to stay here for the semester.”

  “What?” I asked with wide eyes.

  “That was always the plan. I just had to go back and get Aristotle.”

  “You always planned to stay,” I said hollowly.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Penn…”

  “I’m going to stay out of your way.”

  I snorted. “As if you’ll actually do that. You were here for a weekend and completely disrupted my life.”

  “Is that what you call hanging out with my friends all weekend?”

  “Yes!” Totle whined in my arm, and I bent to kiss his head. “Sorry, buddy. Look, you’re already scaring Totle.”

  “That nickname,” he said with an eye roll. “I promise you won’t even know that I’m here. We don’t have to see each other unless we want to.”

  “We don’t want to.”

  “Right,” he said with his hands raised. He moved forward until he was standing before me and started petting Totle. “He’s really just the cutest dog ever.”

  “What is he anyway? A whippet? He looks so small.”

  “Italian greyhound. He’s only a couple months old. He’ll get a little bigger, but he’ll probably only be, like, fifteen pounds.”

  “Are you going to race him? Do they have baby greyhound racing?”

  Penn scoffed. “Are you kidding this time? Do you know how hard those dogs are run into the ground? I want Aristotle to live a long, full life.” A smile lit up his face when he looked at the puppy. It was something I’d never seen on him before. Apparently, puppies changed everyone. “No racing for him and lots of treats.”

  Totle’s ears jumped up at that, and he pawed at Penn.

  “Yes, yes, I know. I said the magic word. Come on. Let’s get him something.”

  I set Totle down on the deck, and he loped awkwardly after Penn. I grabbed a dress to throw over my bathing suit and then followed them both inside to the kitchen. Totle lolled over to the only available piece of carpet and sat down. His tail wagged excitedly, and he then he dropped down with his legs out before him like he was trying to lie down, but with all his limbs, he looked ridiculous.

  “Good boy,” Penn said, handing him a treat from a bag.

  Totle barked at the treat twice and then went to town, trying to figure out how to eat the thing between his long legs.

  “He’s adorable.”

  “I know.” Penn grinned down at him. “Ridiculous and needy as hell, but I love him.” He glanced back up at me. “Look, I really wanted to stay here before I knew you were here. I plan to be invisible. We will be roommates and nothing more.”

  “Don’t you think your friends will show up all the time and, I don’t know, ruin your solitude…and mine?”

  “I didn’t tell them that I was coming back.”

  “And they won’t be suspicious that you’re not in New York?”

  “I don’t get to see them much when I’m teaching. I’m usually too busy. We meet up for events, which I’ll probably go back for anyway sometimes. No one will be the wiser. I don’t want to be interrupted either.”

  “But…”

  “Can we have a trial period? Maybe two weeks. And, if it doesn’t work out, then you can kick me out.”

  “Of your own house?” I asked skeptically.

  “You’re the one getting paid to be here. This is your job. I assume you can kick me out of here if I’m getting in the way of you doing your job.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip and looked from him to Aristotle. “And Totle is staying, too?”

  “Yeah. Sorry, I can’t leave him alone.”

  “He was the deal-breaker.”

  “Natalie…come on.”

  “No, I meant, if he wasn’t staying, neither were you.”

  He laughed. “Well, Aristotle is staying.”

  “Okay. Well, I suppose we can try a trial period.”

  “Great. I’ll just take Aristotle and get out of your hair.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Totle is no bother. It’s only you I have an issue with.”

  He rolled his eyes and reached for the leash on the counter. Totle jumped up and down until Penn put him on the leash. “You’re not like anyone else I know, Natalie.”

  “Maybe you should meet more people.”

  He walked toward the back door. “I don’t want to meet anyone new.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You’re interesting enough all on your own.”

  Natalie

  11

  He had to be bluffing.

  I didn’t think it was possible for us to live in the same house and never see each other. Especially with Totle between us and the renovations on the house beginning that afternoon. But still, I’d agreed on two weeks to take this situation for a test drive. I was pretty certain that he’d do something irritating between now and then that would let me kick him out.

  I was curious why he was really back. If it was because he had planned to write his book. Or if he had only come back because I was here. I was probably flattering myself with that last thought. It wasn’t like he’d come on to me this weekend or anything. Past experiences still clouded how I viewed him. No rose-colored glasses for me.

  But he managed to surprise me.

  Time moved easily. Restfully. Peacefully even.

  We wandered in and out of each other’s space. The renovations began that afternoon, and I walked through the list I’d been given to handle everything. But for the most part, I let people inside and made sure nothing was stolen or unaccounted for.

  Then on Tuesday morning, the aroma of coffee wafted invitingly from the kitchen. When I stepped out there in my gray polka-dot pajama bottoms and white tank, I found a pot of coffee already brewed. There was a note next to it in crisp, neat handwriting that said, Help yourself.

  Wednesday, I let Totle swim with me when I was supposed to be doing laps. But no sign of his owner.

  On Thursday, I caught my first glimpse of him running with Totle down the beach, shirtless. My cheeks turned the exact shade of a ripe tomato, and I quickly pulled myself away from the window. Later that day, I found a half-empty bowl of water and a set of sandy paw prints next to the outdoor shower.

  I didn’t see Penn again until Sunday. I’d been cooped up all weekend, working on my book. It hardly held my interest at this point. There was a new idea scratching at the back of my brain, and I kept going back to it when I knew I should be working on the book I’d promised my agent.

  I desperately needed a break from the desk I had been utilizing
in my room. Walks down the beach were nice for brainstorming. The deck was good for piecing it all together. But I was a creature of habit, and I liked a little structure for my work, which was how I ended up in the library.

  With a yawn, I pushed open the door to the library and was immediately attacked by Totle.

  “Sorry,” I murmured when I saw Penn sitting at the bay window, scribbling furiously into his notebook. The pen scratching against the paper was music to my ears.

  His hand yanked on his hair, as if it might help him fit his writing together into a masterpiece. “Do you need this space?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Didn’t know you were in here.”

  “I can leave,” he said quickly.

  I scooped up Totle. “Just going to steal him.”

  Penn laughed. “By all means.”

  Monday night, he ordered pizza. It was the first time he’d actively sought me out in our first week as accidental roommates. And he only did it to make sure that I didn’t have any allergies or if I had a pizza preference. When it showed up, he knocked on my door to let me know it was here.

  I ate a piece in the kitchen as I jotted down notes on my newest character arc. I’d given up on the other book. This one was better. Much better.

  Tuesday, we had cold pizza for breakfast in front of the kitchen. Totle stared up at us, begging for scraps. I found I liked Penn better in his unassuming clothes with stubble on his jaw and ink on his fingers.

  Wednesday, I watched him write on the back deck. His intensity was unparalleled. I didn’t know what he was writing. Philosophy, of course. But besides the fact that he taught ethics, I knew nothing about what had driven him into the study. I didn’t know how much of what he’d once told me about his passions was true. It’d seemed true, and still, I was hesitant to believe that it was.

  But this was what had interested me about him in the first place. That damn leather notebook and ballpoint pen. A far-off look that said he was discovering the secrets of the universe and that he had plenty of secrets of his own. As a writer, his love for the written word drew me in like a moth to a flame.