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Who the fuck is this guy?
He scoffs, “If you say so.”
“The team says so,” I mumble. Why the hell am I arguing with this walking dinosaur?
“So, you going to London for business or pleasure,enforcer?” He says that last word like it’s a curse he has to utter. When I don’t answer, his leathery lips smile. “Ahh. You’re going for a girl.”
Grandpa Carl pulls out a butterscotch from his pocket and offers it to me.
Okay. I’ll bite. I take the candy and pop it into my mouth. “Not just any girl.”
This time, it’s me smiling.
“We haven’t seen each other in a few months. I’m surprising her tonight.”
I’ve got no clue why the fuck I’m telling him any of this, but seriously, if he tried to sell it toSports Center, who the hell would believe him anyway?
He pulls a deck of cards out of his other pocket and starts shuffling. “Doesnot just any girlhave a name?”
I hesitate before answering, “Grace.”
He places the deck on my drop-down table. “Cut the cards, Wilder.”
I divide them in half and watch him finish shuffling before he deals us each a hand, puts the rest of the deck on the table, and flips the top card over.
“You ever play rummy?” he grumbles.
I nod. “We playing for money, old man?”
“Your mother ever teach you manners, kid? I’ve got a name.”
“Wanna tell me what it is then, since you know mine?” I pick up a card and drop another one down.
He does the same with his cards. “It’s Carl.”
I choke back my laugh. Grandpa. Fucking. Carl.
I wonder if Gracie likes that movie. Seems like something she’d like.
“So you going to tell me about your girl, kid?” I look at his weathered hands and see him play with a plain, gold wedding band on his ring finger. “How long have you and Grace been together?”
I shift in my seat and pick up another card. “We’re not really together—not yet.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s a ballerina in London, and it’s not like my job can transfer me over there. We’ve been taking our time. Getting to know each other better. It’s complicated.”
“You young people are all the same. You think it’s going to be easy. You think the universe owes you something, and the perfect girl is going to fall into your lap. That it’s all going to be smooth sailing after that.” He laughs, then coughs and wipes his mouth with a handkerchief he pulls from his pocket.
How much shit can he fit in his pockets?
“It doesn’t work that way. You’ve got to decide whether she’s worth the work. If she is, you make it work because before you know it, something bigger than you can take her away permanently. And when that happens, and you only have memories, you won’t be grateful you took your time living in two different countries. You’ll wish you had one more day holding hands. One more dinner sitting across from her. One more night with her in your arms. Don’t waste time, kid. It’s the only thing you can never get more of.”
Holy shit.
Those words hit me like a Mack truck going ninety miles an hour.
“Take it from someone who knows, kid. Don’t ever waste time.”
