Ward #2
It would be unnerving if he had continued to dig through my psyche and find what made me tick.
It most certainly would have made me wonder if psychic abilities were at play, and I was staring into the face of a wielder of such powers.
Of course, his humility and perception were worse than if he’d been able to home in on the correct answer, because it meant that he was indeed good at reading people, but was far too gentle and careful to use it.
He had that power, but he kept it on a controlled leash.
Fascinating...and terrifying.
“Can I interest you in something?”
“I’m quite alright with the coffee order you had taken for me,” he said with a smile. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Ah, and here I wondered if you would accept the offer.”
“Was...that a test?”
“Not intended to be, but after the fact, I do get some entertainment out of seeing how someone reacts to something. Don’t worry, if it was a test, it was one you could neither fail nor succeed at.”
“You just wanted insight.”
“Indeed. And when I figure out what insight I gathered, I’ll let you know.”
He snorted and shook his head. “So, what’s the story with the workman? You seemed intent on making sure I didn’t get offended by his dirty look...which I wasn’t, by the way. I assumed it was either something you’d done or he was bothered by the idea of your comment to another man.”
“Neither of which bothered you?” I asked.
“No,” he said with a shrug. “People don’t like what they don’t understand, or simply because they were raised in a way that makes them feel like that. It is what it is, and unless they’re a threat to me or others, I don’t let it get under my skin.”
“Tell me,” I said, unsure how I should feel. “Do you have to work to see the best in people, or is this some...simultaneously frustrating and fascinating part of you that is just...innate.”
“A bit of both,” he said with another small smile. “It’s hard to be bothered by the world when you can see the flaws and suffering behind so much of what people do.”
“It also allows people to get away with poor behavior,” I said, taking another drink before clicking my tongue. “With that, I believe I have answered a previous dilemma of my own.”
He tilted his head. “Which dilemma was that?”
“You see, of those two workmen, the one who shot us a dirty look had already outed himself as...untrustworthy. He was content with doing a poor job on my guest bathroom. His logic? Not only did he believe he could sell such poor workmanship as a matter of style, but I could afford to have the job done properly again. His logic on the second point was accurate; I can afford to have this entire place ripped out and refurnished. My father, useless as he has been for years, does come from old money, and my mother, growing up dirt poor but with an excess of ambition and cold reason, was able to invest her earnings over the years to make quite a bit of money. Naturally, a good part of both piles of cash is available to me.”
Of course, the funds I had put together myself were entirely separate and out of the hands of both my parents, but that wasn’t relevant.
“As to his first point, he is either too used to stupid people...or he assumed all people sitting on great sums of cash are brainless. Sadly for him, my mother might not have been born into money, but she has the attitude of the business barons of old, and she made sure I did not lack sense or business acumen. I know a poor job when I see one.”
I walked past him to the bathroom and gave it a look over. I could only stand in the doorway and look around, but as I examined it, I could see nothing but gleaming new tile, fresh grout, and not a single scuff or messy line.
“Up to your standards?” he asked, and I couldn’t tell if the amusement in his voice was at my expense.
“I’m by no means an expert, but it seems that the other one, who was far more professional, ensured the job was done right.”
“Am I witnessing a flame fizzling out?”
I snorted, glancing over at him. “I think not. I was just confirming the job had been done right and that the more professional of the two had won out. Which I will mention when their boss calls me, as I was told he would. And if he doesn’t, I will contact him.
I might be able to afford having someone else come in here, but that isn’t going to be true for everyone he might cheat.
Well, and if you’re going to cheat, at least have the guile to get away with it and not announce it from my damned bathroom. ”
Arlo chuckled. “So tell me, are you more bothered that he was trying to cheat you, or because he was bad at it?”
“Definitely because he was bad at it. And in truth, I might not have said anything if he hadn’t slunk out of here, clearly knowing I’d overheard him and acting ashamed. For God’s sake, if you’re going to be a bastard, at least be a proud one.”
“So if they’re going to treat you poorly, do it with guile or openly.”
“Precisely. Those options also cover a gamut of other human activities, but for this one, yes, either is fine. I can respect either.”
“You can respect either because you seem to enjoy a challenge,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Is that a problem?” I wondered, more curious than bothered.
“No,” he said with a shrug. “Plenty of people go through life seeking something to test themselves against.”
“Yes, and I suppose the real question is, do I do that because I seek to prove myself, or is it just because I suffer from terminal boredom?”
He leaned against the wall. “You have a suspicious mind.”
“Given the time...and the inclination, I could present an extensive list of instances that led to that suspicious mind, at the top of the list would be a genetic component,” I said dryly.
“But neither the best therapists in the world nor my mother managed to pry such a wildly uninteresting invasion into my life experience from me.”
“Secrets are as natural to people as emotions and illusions,” he said, eyes sweeping over me.
Now there was a fun thought I would have to file away for later. “You are so interestingly...benign.”
His eyes flickered with something before he smiled. “I suppose that’s one way to describe me.”
“I’m sure,” I said, letting him have his secrets just as surely as he let me have mine. “Now, I suppose we should get to why you’re here. Follow me.”
“Lead the way,” he said as I approached him.
I didn’t miss how he hesitated when I grew close before drawing away and letting me pass before we could touch.
Mind you, he accepted my offer of a date tomorrow night, but was he avoiding physical contact?
Was he as reserved with sex as he was with his words?
Now that would be...hmm, I suppose that would be disappointing and even boring.
But perhaps he wanted to touch but was the sort to hold back.
..or maybe he wanted to touch and some part of him held back.
And perhaps I was imagining a whole lot of nonsense for my own entertainment.
“Don’t mind the dust,” I told him as we walked toward my bedroom, pushing the doors open and strolling in. “The electricians the building manager hired to come in and check on everything were apparently not nearly as professional or clean as the gentleman I hired for my bathroom.”
“Something wrong with the lighting?” he wondered, peering around the room.
“Apparently, some of the wiring in the building wasn’t up to code, and they were required by law to make a few tweaks,” I said, gesturing along the wide wall that led toward my personal bathroom.
“They made a bit of a mess that they didn’t see fit to clean up, so either I’ll have to do it myself or pay my cleaning crew extra.
They do enough cleaning as it is; they shouldn’t have to clean up the mess left behind by another supposedly professional crew. ”
“There may not be much charity in your heart, but you have a sense of fairness,” he said, and I turned to watch him.
He was taking everything in, the large bed that could fit four comfortably, the mirror on the ceiling over the bed, the fireplace that, while not real, gave a good illusion of one, the props and art I kept in the room, and his eyes barely lingered on the clear case full of sex toys I kept not far from the bed.
Yet he did not show the slightest flicker of revulsion, judgment, disappointment, or discomfort.
“We really must get you to play poker one day,” I told him when he saw me watching him. “Not just for the poker face, but because I suspect that deep down, there might be a devious card player waiting to be released.”
“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, and I cocked my head at the slight glint in his eyes.
For a moment, I was curious and then laughed softly as a realization dawned on me. “Oh my God, you’re already a good player, aren’t you?”
“Most of my siblings refuse to play with me if there are any real stakes involved,” he said with a smile that was smug for the first time.
It was a relief to see there was something, however small, that he was not just proud of, but arrogant about.
It went a long way toward cracking the almost impenetrable shell he wrapped himself in.
“I suppose it’s difficult not to be a little devious when most of them are just..
.too easy to read. Even my oldest brother can be easy to read, mostly because he’s always up to something, whether it’s a good or bad hand he holds. ”
“I notice you bring up your siblings a lot.”
“To tell the truth, they’re the closest I have to friends,” he said with a shrug.
There was something strange in his tone that I couldn’t quite place, not sadness, but neither was it happy.
If anything, it reminded me of the ways he had spoken about emotional things, in that he didn’t seem to have a strong belief in one thing or another, but simply an acceptance of facts.
“They’ve been exceptionally important in my life for the past couple of decades. Is that a problem?”