Mekhi rolled his eyes. “Yes. You right. You caught me, dammit. I confess, I cheated. I hacked the dice with my mind.”
I threw my car at him. “You don’t gotta be sarcastic.”
“You don’t gotta land on my hotel.”
“You don’t gotta be petty.”
“Youdogotta pay me. Han’ it here like a good girl.”
Ooh, that “good girl” had me—Pay attention, Farrah!I did some quick math. It was bad. I fluttered my lashes, bit down on my lip, got ready to plead my case?—
“You bankrupt?” he asked, messing up my plan.
“I—” I looked down at my tiny pile of sad cash. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
He waited.
Silently.
Patiently.
Like he had all the time in the world to watch me accept defeat.
“Fine,” I huffed eventually. “Take it.” I shoved a few bills toward him.
He didn’t even take them. He just crossed his arms, lifted one eyebrow, and leaned back like a king on his throne.
“Ain’t enough.”
“This is abusive,” I whined.
“This is numbers.”
“This is sexism.”
He snorted. “I thought it was racism. It’s sexism, too?”
“That’s how the patriarchy is; those things work together. Anyway, it’s clearly sexism because you winning.”
“So, women can’t lose?”
“Not to you!” I muttered.
He laughed. “That’s crazy logic.”
“Men created Monopoly. They wanted me to fail.”
He shook his head, the faintest smile playing at his lips. “Girl, pay me my money.”
I sighed dramatically and stared down at the board. I had two choices; I could pay him and die financially or… I could try to flirt my way out of it.
Guess which choice I made?
I slid my sad little dollars back into my pile and folded my hands, trying to look all innocent.
“Okay… so maybe I don’t pay you in cash.”
Another raised eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” he said softly. “What you mean by that?”
