A while later, dressed and basking in the afterglow of our passionate lovemaking, I cling to Mr. Silence on the sofa. He sips his whiskey slowly, savoring each drop. Did we just have our first makeup sex? We should fight more often—he's so hot when he's angry.
My toes curl, and my insides twist as the satisfaction in my body merges with a wave of invading happiness. When our smiles and eyes meet, I feel closer to him than ever. His smile grows into a wide grin as I match it with my own.
Jimmy hands me the bill for our takeout, and confusion clouds my hazy mind. He can't take his eyes off Mr. Silence's showing perfectly white teeth through the grin.
Mr. Silence sees Jimmy and the masked stoic face returns. "If you could please sign for me," Jimmy says with a bright smile.
"Sign?" I look down at the titanium card with my name on it. Glancing at Mr. Silence in surprise, I sign the bill and check the box for a 100% tip, feeling grateful for Jimmy's kindness and care.
"Take care of yourself, Ace. You'll always be welcome here as a customer or otherwise," Jimmy reassures me, despite the flash of irritation darting from Mr. Silence.
"Thank you, Jimmy, for always taking care of me and for your endless kindness," I say, standing up and bowing in a proper Japanese farewell to a man who has been so kind to me. He bows in return and leaves.
Mr. Silence takes my hand. Admiring the heavy weight of the titanium credit card I've never seen before with my name on it, I mindlessly follow Mr. Silence out of the club and into the limo. Jason waves at us from the black Aston Martin.
"Why are you giving me a credit card?" I ask, settling next to him in the limousine.
"I made you quit. I'll be responsible for you," he says, his voice carrying an air of authority that makes me feel both grateful and uncomfortable.
"I don't need money. Soon I'll have a master's in computer science. And Wei, my CPA brother, says I have money. I can also easily get a job, or invent something, and make money," I say, feeling a twinge of guilt at the thought of relying on him.
"You wanted to take a break from PI work. Do you like working that much?" he asks with a teasing smile that makes my heart skip a beat. He knows me too well.
"What's the credit limit?" I ask, trying to focus on the practical details. "I don't want to accidentally overspend."
Mr. Silence takes my arms, wraps them around me alongside his own, leans his head back, and closes his eyes.
Recognizing the end of the discussion for him, I ask, "Weren't you sleeping earlier, my love?"
"I was... until you left me," he accuses casually.
Nuzzling my head on his chest, I close my eyes as well.
###
Jason walks through the glass house, his footsteps echoing across the vast marble floor. The space is nearly complete. Five years of planning, sourcing, and construction—every detail dictated by Mohamad himself, down to the shade of the marble beneath his feet. Even the chandelier above the foyer had to be custom-made, a suspended pentagon of glass and metal that took eleven months to fabricate.
Now, it's finished.
Jason studies the empty space again, trying to imagine it lived in. It's difficult. The house was never designed for comfort. It was designed for control. Precision. Distance.
Which makes Mohamad's latest instruction even harder to process.
Put the deed under her name. Her name.
A forty-million-dollar property handed over casually over breakfast—between a discussion about expanding MM Corp through a merger and Mohamad brushing his teeth. No ceremony. No hesitation. Just a decision.
Jason has watched their relationship accelerate faster than he expected. Faster than what he would normally consider safe. But this—This is something else entirely.
Would she even agree to move in?
They're practically living together already, he assumes. Mohamad spends most nights at the apartment with her. He even instructed Jason to bring over suits from his New York residence to Los Angeles. A quiet relocation. Permanent, if Jason had to guess.
Jason looks around the glass house again. Five years to build. Five minutes to give away. He still isn't sure which part unsettles him more.
###
I loathe the fact that he doesn't text when he's away on business trips. It's been nine days and fourteen hours. Sighing, I study the titanium card on the table. It has large white letters, MM, in the left corner. Karla, James, and Anat join me at the Poly dive bar booth.
Karla gasps, his mouth wide open, then asks, "Is that…?"
"Yep," Anat says.
They all stare, fascinated by the card.
"How much do you think is on it?" I ask, and all three look at me.
"Ace, it's a white card," James states.
"White? Isn't it titanium gray looking? What's the limit?"
They turn to each other, exchanging looks as if sending an invisible message between them.
"She doesn't know dates either. We shouldn't be that surprised," Anat states, and they laugh.
"What date? What's everyone talking about?" I glance at them, confused, as Karla picks up the card, still mesmerized by it.
"What's February 14?" Anat asks.
Running down the calendar in my head, I say, "That was... Tuesday this year."
"And what's December 25?" James asks between fits of laughter.
"I don't know... this year or last year? Why is it important?" I admit, more perplexed than ever.
"What are you supposed to bring to someone's birthday party?" James continues.
"Whatever you want?" I answer, now uncertain.
"Definitely not a present for someone other than the birthday person," Anat says as they continue to laugh.
"What are you guys talking about?! You should just give gifts whenever you want, to whoever you want." I feel frustrated and left out.
"This is why we love you so much," Karla confesses, wiping tears from his eyes from laughing so hard.
"Ace, a white card is like the black card—they don't have limits. That's why they're special," Anat explains.
"Ohhhhhh… that's why he didn't react when I said I was going to spend $2 million." I finally understand.
"Let's go shopping, bitches!" Karla screams excitedly as they all get up and start walking out. I follow, still confused.
"It's not our money, so even better!" Anat declares happily as we rush into James' car.
A while later, Anat and I lock eyes, then look back at the line of purses with logos and brands on them.
"Do you have... anything... without the brand or logo on it?" Anat asks politely to the saleswoman.
"Of course."
Anat and I smile at each other, then back at the three purses without any logos or branding.
"How much is this one?" Karla asks excitedly as he picks up the royal blue purse.
"$15,000," the saleswoman says.
Anat's eyes widen. She picks up the white card, gets up from her seat, and walks out of the store. I glance at Karla's vanishing grin, then back at Anat, who is standing outside the store's entrance. James heads toward the door, so I follow him, and Karla runs behind me.
Then Karla and Anat are in a tug-of-war over the white card in front of the store. James and I stand by, watching.
"You said it's not our money, so it doesn't matter!" Karla directs at Anat. Just as I don't understand most people's need to remember and keep track of dates, I don't get their obsession with money either. Money is one of the most boring topics. The level of importance people place on it baffles me. Anat once accused me of being born with a wealthy mindset, as if I were destined to be wealthy because of my indifference to money.
"$15,000 for a fucking purse made of crocodile skin? Are you kidding me? That's how much a car costs, and you don't even have a car! And think about the poor crocodile!" Anat pulls on the card harder, but Karla refuses to let go. She makes several practical valid points.
"It's a fucking cool purse! This is a white card!" Karla yells.
"If it were your money, would you buy it?" Anat fires back. Karla pauses for a second.
"Yes, I fucking would because it'd be like spending $15 if I had that much money!" H e goes back to pulling on the card as Anat fights him. He sees the value of money based on how much one has which isn't logical or practical. Should I buy Karla a car for his birthday present?
"Well, it's a good thing you don't, because you would've wasted it all!" Anat retorts.
"It's art, okay? Wearable art! Collectible and resellable! An investment piece!" Karla rebuts. He finally makes a good point that logically can counter Anat's argument.
"Adults are just kids with credit cards," James states.
I nod robotically, then step forward and yell over their screams and fighting, "We will spend $15,000!"
Karla and Anat stop.
"On the purse or... what about that restaurant you've always wanted to go to, Karla? And how about the spa?" I continue.
"Spa!" Anat drops the card and votes.
"Restaurant!" Karla votes.
As they continue their staring contest, I walk off to the side and call Jason.
"Jason?"
"Yes, Ace, how may I be of assistance?" Jason sounds professional as always.
"Hmm... if I want to take my friends to MM Restaurant, is it possible to get a table for dinner at seven pm? The website says they're booked out until—"
"There will be a table for you at seven pm. How many should I say is coming?"
"Four, please. Thank you so much!"
"Of course. Is there anything else?"
"Hmm... is he... there with you?"
"What is it?" Mr. Silence asks over the phone.
I'm so happy, I'm speechless for a moment as I try to compose myself. "When are you... coming back?"
The phone clicks. He hangs up.