I wasn’t thinking about that at all. But it seemed to placate Marcus, and our conversation soon shifted to more sports-related talk and less date talk. For now, at least, the locker room was a refuge against some of the crazier questions that were sure to follow.
* * *
Six Hours Later
“So, let me get this straight.”
As I adjusted my suit, my brother Brett and my sister Layla sat on a nearby couch at the family estate, drinking some of the famous Ferrari wine while taking in the show that was my explanation.
“You saw this girl from across the hall—no, scratch that, across the stage. You held eye contact with her for all of three, maybe four seconds if I’m being generous. And that’s enough for you to send flowers to her and ask her on a date?”
“Yep.”
In the mirror, I could see Brett and Layla trading a look as if they were silently wondering if someone had kidnapped me and replaced me with a slightly crazier twin.
“I’m so damn confused right now,” Brett said.
“You think you’re confused?” Layla said. “I come back from Spain after being gone for a month and I learn that my brother has suddenly turned into a middle schooler? Did you also ask her friend to tell her that you have an interest in her?”
“Jeez, I’m so glad I have your support,” I said as I fiddled with my tie. “You know how it is. I’m just going to be the first Ferrari grandchild to get married, and that way, I won’t have to hear Grandma and Grandpa yell at us for being past our marriage prime.”
“Oh, Jesus, don’t get me started,” Brett said. “You’d think that it was the nineteen hundreds from the way that they talk.”
“Actually, I’d just think that they are what they are,” Layla said.
“I’m sorry, should we mention—”
Layla slapped my brother’s leg hard.
“Don’t you fucking go there,” Layla said. “I will cut you in front of the entire family before I have you tease me for that. Understood?”
Brett nodded, still grimacing from the pain.
“But for real, Nick,” Layla said. “Did something happen? Are you feeling some sudden impulse to get serious and settle down? You’re not Brett, but you’ve never exactly struck me as the overly romantic type, either.”
“Nothing bad happened,” I said. “It’s just a matter of something good happening.”
“That good being you saw someone from afar?” Layla said. “I’m not trying to mock you; I’m really curious.”
“Speak for yourself,” Brett said, a statement that drew another elbow from Layla.
“It’s kind of a curse when you’re famous; the type of women that throw themselves at you are exactly the type that you tire of after about six months. They’re hot, yes, they’ve got great bodies, yes, but the ones who are shameless enough to just launch themselves on you rarely have depth. The woman who works as a doctor or a lawyer or an executive doesn’t need to throw herself at you, you know? But because such a woman would be just as busy as I am, we both have to rely on a little bit of luck.”
And this, I hope, is the lucky break I didn’t know I was looking for.
“Huh,” Brett said. “I did not think you would say that.”
“You don’t think he would say anything intelligent, dummy,” Layla said.
“Hey, not all of us can be exquisite sommeliers for the family business,” Brett said in his fake, playful haughty tone.
“Jesus Christ, why did we ever put you on the front lines of the business?” Layla said, also in playful exasperation.
“Because what would you guys do without me? Let grandpa talk to the customers with that gruff tone of his?”
“Hey now,” I said. “If you were grandpa, and you had four grandkids that didn’t get married, causing your wife to constantly ask when they’d get tied down, I think you’d be a little ornery too.”
I fiddled with the last of my buttons on my shirt, smoothed everything down, and put my hands in my pockets. I was always a little uncomfortable whenever sponsors or magazine writers wanted me to pose as if I were going to be on the cover of GQ—that had not happened yet—but here, I sure did want to play the part.
“Besides,” I said as I turned to head to my car. “If grandpa really wanted to succeed, he’d pay me enough to get me to retire and have me be the face of the business. We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves!”
Both Brett and Layla gave exaggerated groans as if they had just heard that they’d been fired and removed from the family will.
“Have fun, Nick!” Layla yelled as I got to the door. “Treat the lady well. Remember, you being a Ferrari depends on you eventually finding a wife!”
I shook my head, not so much at the seemingly ridiculous nature of Layla’s words, but at the actual truth that I sometimes felt when it came to the top-down pressure from the grandparents, and even our parents to some degree. At least Layla and Brett got it.
And Leo got it, but he got it a little too much.
I headed to my Tesla, feeling confident and suave like I was going to that GQ photoshoot I’d imagined in my head. I had on a navy blue sports coat, navy blue pants, brown dress shoes, and just a dash of cologne—so little, in fact, that even if Izzy got close enough to me to touch me and hold me, she might have doubted herself if she was actually sniffing cologne or something else. And that was the whole point, really—mystery wasn’t fun if it could be
