Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I stay silent.
“That’s a yes, you know.”
I shrug. “I have had a few experiences.”
“Tell me about them.”
I chuckle. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m curious? Because I’m easy to talk to? Because if you tell me about this one thing I would like to know about you, I will tell you something in return.”
OK. Now he’s got me intrigued. “What will you tell me?”
“Anything you want to know. And I’ll give you all night to come up with that question. I’ll even give you until Monday, if you’d like. That way you can process the weekend and make it a good one.”
I just stare at him.
“That’s why you came, right? That’s what Locke said. You want to meet my mother. You want to meet the woman who gave birth to a man like me.”
“Do you two share everything?”
“Yes.”
Oh.
“We’re sharing you already, you realize that, right? I didn’t plan it this way. Locke is his own man. He can do what he likes. And so he’s the one who started this, Nova. I hope you understand that.” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “And Olsen”—Mercer actually rolls his eyes—“Olsen is a separate game. You should realize that as well.”
“I’m a game to you people?”
“Nova. Life is a game. We’re all players. Most of the world doesn’t understand this simple fact. They don’t even try to play. They follow the rules, they are in lockstep with society, they do their little jobs, and play their quaint sports, and pretend to relax on their pitiful weekends and holidays. They are slaves. And they don’t even know it.”
“Wow. You have a disturbingly negative view of society.”
“Did I lie? How many people break free of the rat race or corporate America? They make up these pathetic, but catchy, terms to describe their lives. They know deep down that they are nothing but slaves. To their credit cards, or their mortgages, or their own blind ambition to have more, more, more. Because they think more is… well, more. And it’s simply not. The only thing worth living for, Nova, is freedom. And you are not free as long as your life is determined by the bills you must pay.”
My mouth drops open.
“Do I lie?”
I can’t really say he did. But… “Mercer. It’s so cynical.”
“It’s not cynical if it’s the truth. But you, Nova. Look at you. A trailer park?”
I deflate a little.
“I’m not disparaging you. I’m congratulating you. You went from there to here. A private jet, Nova. Be proud. I certainly am. Yes, it’s a game. Yes, we’re playing. And you can opt out if you like. You can be like everyone else and just… exist. Or you can play along and define the meaning of victory for yourself. Not my meaning of victory, either. I assure you, my victory has nothing to do with you. And your victory should have nothing to do with me. It’s a personal challenge, this life. It’s an opportunity to get something or someone. Or be something or someone. Don’t waste it.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Do you agree?”
“I guess.”
“Don’t guess. Be sure. All the years that came before this one—you were someone in those years. And now you are someone else. Someone important. Someone who has a piece on the game board. So I will ask again. Do you agree? Do you want to play?”
I suck in a deep breath and nod. “OK. I agree. And… I do want to play. I just don’t have the rulebook, Mercer. I don’t really understand what we’re doing.”
“Do you think I have one?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Well, you’re right. I do have a rulebook. But I made it all up, Nova. My rules. My game. Now it’s your chance to make your rules and your game. Be bold about it.”
“I will. I mean, I am. But what are you asking me?”
“My question was, are you familiar with dominant men?”
“Yes.”
He smiles. “See? It’s not that hard, is it.”
“But what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, nothing yet. But later, maybe tonight—maybe next month—I will bring you into my game.”
As what? His sub?
He laughs. “Now it’s your turn.” Before I can say anything, he puts up a hand. “No, sweets. Not now. You need to think about your game. You need to come up with your rules. You need to define your victory. Then, and only then, do you start playing. Understand?”
I let out a long sigh. “This is your game.”
“Exactly.”
“And I can choose to play, or not.”
“Yes.” He nods. Smiles with satisfaction. “Yes. You choose. You make a decision. Then you live with it. But don’t dismiss consequences. They matter. Greatly.” He winks at me. “Now eat your peaches before the ice cream melts.”
“Don’t you want to feed me?” And as soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize something. This is the moment he’s been setting up. This question right here.