Jo
My driver’s license gets duly passed around, but Ricky’s the only one who really scrutinizes it. Mitch brings up the usual question: “Wait, your name is first name Jo, second name Ann?”
“No E in either.” It’s my standard response.
Chase clucks his tongue. “You used to have a really cool birthday.”
I nod but I also see the way Trevor and Mitch catch each other’s eyes in the sort of panic that says hey, they don’t actually know me. “God, I had so many themed birthday parties. My mom knit us all house scarves one year.”
“Like the most magical thing a kid could dream of is still school,” Ricky scoffs, crossing his arms and finally nodding for me to roll.
Even though they have to reach across me, Jamie takes my license from Chase, tucks it back into my wallet, and then zips it into the inside pocket of my backpack. He was paying enough attention to get it in exactly the right spot.
I also caught the way he and Mitch had to recalculate the first digit in my age. That’s pretty common. Everybody thinks I’m much younger than I am. I guess that means they thought Ricky invited some sort of child to this group, even though he made such a big deal at how small the age difference actually is, but does it matter to Jamie for some other reason?
Okay, focus. It’s early in the game. Roll, buy the first property, and calculate how many more of those mini quiches I can eat without their teasing turning to some serious concern.
Things settle in, at least, and I navigate the whole “So Jo, what do you do?” question about as awkwardly as usual, because who actually thinks a professional researcher is a thing? I can’t talk about Not Forgotten, and Ricky at least seems to know why because he doesn’t even pretend not to steer us away from that, and the thing I’m on right now is in the early enough stages that I can’t even explain it properly in a sound bite, but then they fall into what I have to assume are their more regular conversation patterns so I just have to roll when it’s my turn and try to remember if I ever learned an actual strategy for this game.
Trevor updates the group on how various plants are doing, which seems to be the cue for Ricky to make pot jokes and Jamie to insist that his sandwiches are actually better without the interference of vegetables. Chase starts discussing the upcoming specials, which makes Mitch roll his eyes and tell them not to discuss work at the Monopoly table. Ricky regales us all with dramatic synopses of student-written ten-minute plays he had to grade recently, barely pausing long enough to take his turn when it comes. I don’t have to talk, and that’s fine, because I can’t keep track of what I’d want to say and what I really don’t want anyone else to know, thanks.
We get up for more drinks and snacks whenever we want, and it’s maybe an hour into the game when Ricky lands on Pennsylvania Avenue, looks at his measly stack of bills, and then turns absolute puppy dog eyes on Chase.
I look around the table, but apparently this is normal. Jamie’s supposed to be getting paid, but he’s just waiting, and when he looks at me, I blush and look away. I don’t think I’m the only one doing either of those things, but I can’t deny it. It’s another good reason for me to stick to the nonalcoholic punch tonight.
Chase starts counting bills, pauses, and adds another before passing them across the table. “Wait, what’s that for?” I blurt, which means I’m just blushing deeper, thanks, because I’m marking myself as the outsider.
“Sexual favors,” Trevor informs me.
Uh. Is he serious?
“They have a list,” Mitch explains as Ricky counts out rent and hands it over to Jamie. “They won’t tell us what’s on the list, but there’s a list.”
“Um.” I shake my head a little as Trevor takes the dice. “What’s the most you’ve ever seen one of them pay the other?”
“Five grand,” Trevor answers promptly.
That was only one grand. I’m pretty sure this is the kind of group that would respect me less if I didn’t ask a follow-up question: “So does it add up and you get the most expensive thing on the list,” I ask Chase, which is easier because he’s carefully straightening his money and not looking at me, “or does each transaction signal a specific favor in sequence?”
That breaks him even though he tries to hide his laughter behind his hand.
“Oh, I like her,” Ricky announces to the table in general before turning to Jamie in particular. “You have to keep her.”
“That’s not an answer,” I protest over more laughter, and yeah, okay, at some point this blush has to peak, right? I can’t even turn to Jamie for help here because I’m just going to broadcast how much I want him to agree with Ricky.
“Specific favor, not necessarily in sequence,” Chase answers with as much dignity as he can muster.
The problem is how this is just another research project tickling my brain. “What’s the least expensive thing on the list?”
It’s Jamie’s turn, and he tilts his head as he rolls the dice. “I’ve seen fifty. Well, shit.” He lands on Park Place, which I basically went broke buying.
I scoot my chair back a little and nod at Chase. “Maybe you can find out what that thousand’s for.”
Ricky absolutely cackles. “I would pay real money to see that.”
“How much real money?” Trevor asks through a gale of laughter.
Jamie drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, and at first I can’t tell if that was a step too far and I’ve lost any chance at getting to know him better, but then he breaks into a grin and shakes his head. “Trevor, I’m going to need some mortgages.”
Chapter Ten- coming October 10
