Page 87 of Just One Little Bargain

“That looked like a mohawk!”

The garden erupts in laughter. Nadia is wheezing. Even Ben is laughing, which, based on two days of observation, I suspect is not a regular occurrence.

I draw the slip and read the single word printed in aggressive capitals. Titanic.

I glance at Milo. He’s sitting with his mug cradled in both hands, and an attentive, bewildered expression. The odds of him having watched a 1997 James Cameron film are basically zero, but I’ve committed to this partnership, and I refuse to lose without a fight.

I stand up and raise a finger.

“One word.” Milo watches me from his chair with the total concentration he brings to everything I do, which is counterproductive when I’m already self-conscious about performing in front of an audience.

I spread my arms wide, tilt my chin up, and commit to my best king-of-the-world impression.

“Duck,” Milo guesses.

I shake my head.

“Angry swan.”

Another shake.

“Eagle?”

I drop my arms. “Why do you keep guessing birds?”

“You were doing a wingspan.”

“I was standing on the bow of a ship!”

His brow furrows with such genuine, hopeless confusion that I laugh and abandon the pose. I start over.

“A boat in distress,” he says, leaning forward.

I nod hard and gesture for him to keep going.

“In water . . . sinking . . .” His eyes light up. “A shipwreck.”

I wobble my hand: almost.

“The Titanic!” Nadia shouts from her chair.

“You can’t guess for him!”

“Someone had to!”

Milo turns to her. “Is that an actual event?”

“How can you not know?” Ivy whispers.

“It’s real, and it’s a movie.” Nadia points at me. “Make him watch it.”

“I don’t control his viewing schedule.”

“You control everything else around here. Add it to the list.”

A few turns later, Milo draws a slip and stands.

He unfolds the paper and reads it before looking back at me. He raises a finger.