Twenties Girl
Page 116

“Never.” Ed shakes his head. “Although I have on occasion felt really, really, really stupid.”
I can’t help a little smile. Talking to Ed puts everything into perspective a bit. I’m not the only person in the world to feel like a fool. And at least Josh didn’t two-time me. At least I didn’t end up marooned all alone in a strange city.
“Hey, let’s do something that wasn’t on your list,” I say on impulse. “Let’s see some sight that was never in the plan. Is there anything?”
Ed breaks off a piece of bread, mulling.
“Corinne didn’t want to go on the London Eye,” he says at last. “She’s scared of heights and she thought it was kinda dumb.”
I knew I didn’t like this woman. How can anyone think the London Eye is dumb?
“London Eye it is,” I say firmly. “And then maybe Ye Olde Starbucks? It’s a traditional English custom, very quaint.”
I wait for Ed to laugh, but he just gives me an appraising look as he eats his bread.
“Starbucks. Interesting. You don’t go to Lingtons Coffee?”
Oh, right. So he’s worked it out.
“Sometimes. Depends.” I shrug defensively. “So… you know I’m related.”
“I told you, I asked around about you.”
His face is impassive. He hasn’t done what people usually do when they find out about Uncle Bill, which is say, “Oh, wow, that’s amazing, what’s he like in real life?”
Ed’s in big business, it occurs to me. He must have come across Uncle Bill in some way or another.
“What do you think of my uncle?” I say lightly.
“Lingtons Coffee is a successful organization,” he replies. “Very profitable. Very efficient.”
He’s avoiding the question. “What about Bill?” I persist. “Have you ever come across him?”
“Yes. I have.” He swallows his wine. “And I think Two Little Coins is manipulative bullshit. Sorry.”
I’ve never heard anyone be so rude about Uncle Bill, not to my face. It’s kind of refreshing.
“Don’t be sorry,” I say at once. “Say what you think. Tell me.”
“What I think is… your uncle is the one in the million. And I’m sure a lot of different factors went into his success. But that’s not the message he’s selling. He’s selling the message ‘It’s easy! Come be a millionaire like me!’” Ed sounds curt, almost angry. “The only people who go to those seminars will be self-deluding fantasists, and the only person who’ll make any money is your uncle. He’s exploiting a lot of sad, desperate people. Just an opinion.”
The instant he says all this, I know it’s true. I saw the people at the Two Little Coins seminar. Some of them had traveled miles. Some of them did look desperate. And it’s not like the seminar cost nothing.
“I went to one of his day seminars once,” I admit. “Just to see what it was all about.”
“Oh, really. And did you instantly make your fortune?”
“Of course I did! Didn’t you spot my limo earlier?”
“Oh, that was yours. I assumed you’d use your helicopter.”
We’re both grinning by now. I can’t believe I called Ed Mr. American Frown. He doesn’t frown that often. And when he does, he’s usually thinking of something funny to say. He pours me some more wine and I lean back, relishing the view of the tower, and the warm glow that the wine is giving me, and the prospect of the rest of the day ahead.
“So, why do you carry cards with you?” I say, deciding it’s my turn to start. “Do you play patience the whole time or something?”
“Poker. If I can find anyone to play with. You’d be great at poker,” he adds.
“I’d be terrible!” I contradict him. “I’m crap at gambling, and-” I stop as Ed shakes his head.
“Poker’s not about gambling. It’s about being able to read people. Your Eastern mind-reading powers would come in handy.”
“Oh, right.” I blush. “Well… my powers seem to have abandoned me.”
Ed raises an eyebrow. “You’re not hustling me here, Miss Lington?”
“No!” I laugh. “They really have! I’m a total novice.”
“OK, then.” He takes out the pack of cards and shuffles it expertly. “All you need to know is, do the other players have good cards or bad? Simple as that. So you look at your opponents’ faces. And you ask yourself, Is something going on? And that’s the game.”