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Maddox stands in silence. The only part of his body that moves is his jaw, and it flexes like he’s gritting his teeth. I wrap my hand around his and give it a squeeze, hopeful he’ll squeeze it back.
He doesn’t, and my stomach sinks into the floor.
“Why do you want to get a picture of a fisherman, ma’am?” I ask the woman. If Maddox is frozen and not speaking, maybe this woman can tell me what’s going on.
She sputters and squints, pulling her face back like I just said something profound. “Why, honey, he’s Maddox Brewster!”
“Yes, I know that. We’ve met. Why are you taking pictures of him?”
“The same way people take pictures of Musk or Gates if they run into them at a coffee shop. He’s huge in Alaska. Do people not know who he is on the mainland?”
The names Musk and Gates float through my head like I’m trying to pin them to Maddox’s fraternity brothers or names I should know. It takes a moment before I realize the level of celebrity she’s referring to. I look at Maddox, and he rubs his forehead. His eyes are closed, and his face slopes to the ground. If his eyes were open, he’d only see his shoes.
“Maddox?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Why is she comparing you to billionaires?”
Thankfully, the woman answers for me. “Because he’s a billionaire, honey.”
“Excuse the shit out of me?” I ask, but I’m asking Maddox, the woman a side show. Maddox is the main event.
So many things hit me at once. The twins acted like they owed Maddox something. He probably paid for the entire train compartment for all of us. Maddox pays for an awful lot of stuff – the camping equipment, our bacon and eggs we’ve been eating at the café every morning, the sandwiches. But now that I look closer, there are places where I just didn’t notice that he probably paid more than what he said.
He didn’t win that helicopter ride in a raffle, and I haven’t seen any kind of t-shirt prize. Fuck, he probably owns the helicopter.
“Maddox, what is she talking about?”
He looks up and faces me for the first time, but I don’t recognize him. His eyes are wet with something that looks like tears, but that can’t be right. Why would he cry if he was wealthy and just outed for having money? His face is flushed, and he bites his lip so hard I’m worried he’ll bleed.
“I should have told you, but I…” His voice trails away.
“So, it’s true?”
He nods.
I don’t wait for an answer or an explanation. I spin around and stalk from the café, accidentally bumping the woman in the poncho as I go. People are staring now, but I don’t care. I don’t care that the entire café is silent except for the sound of my suitcase wheels on the black and white linoleum.
The sun is already getting high outside as I push through the exit, the bell tinkling above me. The mornings may start out cold here, but I peel off my sweater and wrap it around my waist, the heat already thick in the air.
Then again, it may be anger wafting off my skin.
The bell tinkles again before I get five feet from the door, and I feel him behind me before he speaks. “Let me explain.”
“Fisherman, huh? Was that the first thing that popped into your head?” I stop walking, but I don’t face him.
“Will you look at me, Calvert?”
I huff like a child and blow a loose piece of my ponytail off my face before I turn to face him, and I wish I didn’t turn. I look away because I can’t see him like this. His face is crinkled, and his eyes are swollen. “I wasn’t lying about that.” He moves his head side to side. “Technically.”
“Explain, Maddox. I’m tired of riddles. Tell me the truth!”
He takes a deep breath, puts his hands on my biceps, and I shrug him off. He holds his hands up like he’s being mugged. “My dad owns a fishing corporation and supplies fish to restaurant tables or grocery stores. I’m in charge of restaurant distribution.”
“What does that mean? Clarify,” I demand, wiping sweat off my forehead that suddenly appeared. My whole body is hot, and my armpits feel wet. My legs itch to run, but I don’t know where.
“We have boats that catch the fish, and I sell it to restaurants.”
“Locally?” Please let this be limited to Alaska.
“All over the world.”
