Page 25 of Just The Way You Aren’t (Last Billionaire Standing #1)

WILLOW

S everal hours later, Damien is still with me. We’ve enjoyed seeing Silver Hearts’ many clients and had many humorous moments, including Mrs. McDougal throwing a wrapped pat of butter at us. It had bounced right off Damien’s forehead. “It’s frozen solid!” she insisted angrily.

“I can attest to that,” he replied, rubbing his forehead.

“We’re all done with rounds,” I tell Damien after our last stop. “Do you need to get back to the office?”

“No,” he says. “I’d rather spend the evening with you.”

I’m shocked. I know he can’t possibly have planned to be with me all day. But I decide to roll with it. I bite my lip. “Um, well, tonight’s bingo Night at the New Day program. I have to be there.”

He shrugs. “Then that’s where I’ll be, too, I guess.”

I eye him, skeptical. “Have you ever been to a bingo night before?”

“Not lately, no.”

“As in, never, right?” I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling at the same time. “I think you should know, the seniors can get very competitive.”

He chuckles. “I’ve got to battle Alfred and the board every day at the office. How bad can bingo night be compared to that?”

“You might be surprised.” It’s all the warning he’s going to get from me. Besides, if I’m being honest, having him with me most of the day has been nice. Fun, even. Huh. Imagine that—I’m actually having a great time with Damien Langley.

I’m still grinning as I drive us back to Mrs. Baumgartner’s so Damien can pick up his car.

Then we both drive to the Silver Hearts’ office.

Several seniors are already lined up at the New Day entrance, holding their own bingo daubers.

Mrs. Horowitz also has her beagle, Titan, in a stroller.

She never goes to bingo night without her lucky beagle.

“Hi, Mrs. Horowitz! Hi, Titan! Who’s a good boy.” I scratch Titan behind the ears. “Mr. Price, how’s the foot?”

“Still got the gout,” the old man grumbles. “Nothing winning fifty dollars at bingo won’t cure, though.” He wags his eyebrows at me.

I laugh and shake my finger at him. “I’m not going to throw bingo. Not even for your gout.”

He chuckles and I go to greet the other six seniors standing in line, then unlock the New Day door. The seniors file in and find their usual seats. No one would ever make the faux pas of sitting in someone else’s seat. They might as well have carved their names into the tables.

Damien trails along at the end of the group, then stands next to me as I get out the cards. Mrs. Horowitz buys six as usual, then gives Titan a biscuit. “We’re going to win today, Titan! ”

Titan munches happily, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s a lucky charm.

Mr. Price buys five, while other seniors trickle in. It’s still twenty minutes before the game starts, but they like to get situated.

Damien checks out the front, turning the handle on the ball cage and looking at the prize table. There are, indeed, envelopes with money, but also items of equivalent value such as a coffee maker, bags of hard candies, and even one Echo Dot.

“Mr. Price has been eyeing that one for weeks,” I tell Damien quietly when I get done handing out bingo cards. I point at the Echo Dot. “He likes this ‘newfangled technology.’”

Damien smiles. “Well, then, I hope he wins it.”

“I hope so, too,” I admit. I look at the bingo cage and an idea strikes me. “Would you like to call the game tonight?”

He looks at me, confused. “Do what now?”

I point to the cage. “You just crank it a few times between numbers, take out a ball, and read what’s on it aloud.”

He looks at the cage, looks at me, looks at the cage, then shrugs. “It doesn’t sound too complicated.”

“Good.” I go back to passing out cards, and daubers to those who didn’t bring their own. The exact moment it is 6 p.m., I wave to Damien. “You’d better start, or the natives will get restless.”

Damien nods and cranks the cage a few times, then fiddles the trap door open and pulls out a ball. “G-52.”

“Louder!” Mrs. Vernon yells. She always takes a spot at the very back of the room, even though she has worse hearing than a rock.

Damien clears his throat. “G-52!” he calls again.

“Bingo?” Mr. Callahan asks, looking at me .

I come over and pat him on the shoulder. “Not yet. How about I sit next to you and help?”

He nods and I pull up a folding chair.

Damien starts to put the ball back in the cage. There is a collective gasp of horror.

“No, no, no,” Mrs. Horowitz says. “You put the ball on the tray so you can keep track of which ones you’ve already called.”

“Oh,” Damien says, quickly pulling his hand back. “Sorry.” He sets the ball in the tray next to the cage. He glances around while the seniors look at him expectantly.

“Next ball, honey,” Mrs. White says.

“Right.” Damien’s cheeks flush and he winds the crank again. He pulls out another ball. “B-14!”

Mr. Callahan is about to call ‘bingo’ again, but I pat his hand and shake my head. “Not yet.”

Again, Damien almost puts the ball back in the cage, then stops himself and puts it in the tray. He rubs the back of his neck.

“You can go a little faster, honey,” Mrs. White says kindly. “We’re not completely senile yet.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s my first day on the job. Cut me some slack.”

“Did he call the next number yet?” Mr. Price asks his table neighbor, loud enough for all to hear.

Damien gives me a look. “Next number, coming right up.” He turns the cage and pulls out another ball, loudly calling, “I-19!”

Thankfully, it all goes well from there on out. After a few more turns of the cage, Mrs. Horowitz yells, “Bingo!”

Damien nods and turns to the prize table .

There’s a collective groan. “Honey,” Mrs. White explains with failing patience. “You have to check her card first.”

“Check her card?” Damien glances my way, uncertain.

I start to stand, but Mr. Cunningham clutches my arm. “Please don’t leave me,” he says worriedly. “I might get it wrong again.”

Then Mr. Price rises from his chair and goes to Mrs. Horowitz, picking up her card. “I’ll figure it out, Gertrude.”

“Thank you, Lloyd. You’re such a dear.” Mrs. Horowitz smiles.

Mr. Price limps up to the podium, gout foot and all, and gently pushes Damien aside. He checks the balls in the tray, then nods. “You’ve got prize level one, Gertie. I think there might be a Beanie Baby up here.”

“Aw, those ain’t worth nothin’ anymore,” Mrs. White snorts.

Mrs. Horowitz blushes. “I still like them.”

“I’ll bring it to you.” Mr. Price picks up the bean-bag dog and is just about to hobble back the way he came, when Damien gently takes it from him.

“I’ll get this to Mrs. Horowitz,” he says. “You rest your foot.”

Mr. Price nods. “I’ll help you up here, son. Pardon me for saying, but you’re hopeless.”

Damien blushes, but laughs at the same time. “You’re probably right, sir.” He takes the Beanie Baby to Mrs. Horowitz, then jogs back to the podium.

Mrs. White gathers up Mr. Price’s cards and brings them over to me. “I figure you’re the most impartial one here.”

“True.” I grin at her. “Thank you for bringing these over.”

“You’re welcome.” She goes back to her seat.

“Now,” Mr. Price explains quickly to Damien. “If Gertie gets another bingo, she can trade her prize in for the next level up. You see how that works?”

Damien nods. “I get it.”

“Good.” Mr. Price goes to the bingo cage and, like a seasoned auctioneer, begins calling out numbers once more.

The seniors relax and concentrate on their cards.

As the night wears on, it is Mrs. White who ends up winning the fifty dollars, but Mrs. Horowitz still compliments Titan on being her lucky charm, having garnered herself a new Beanie Baby for her collection.

Mr. Price didn’t get one bingo of his own. But he is a gracious loser and shakes Damien’s hand. “Nice working with you, son. You’ll get the hang of this. See you next week.”

“I’ll be here,” Damien promises. He looks at the Echo Dot. “One of these is about fifty bucks, right?”

Mr. Price glances fondly at it and sighs. “Just not in the budget, I’m afraid. I’ve got to make sure my social security stretches every month.”

Damien nods. Then he goes in his wallet and pulls out a fifty. He picks up the Echo Dot and hands it to Mr. Price. “Thanks for the help. I’ll make sure Silver Hearts is reimbursed. I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

Mr. Price takes the Echo Dot and cradles it like a newborn baby. “Th-Thank you,” he says.

“Enjoy it.” Damien looks at me.

I wag my finger at him, but I can’t really be angry. Mr. Price has been trying so hard to get that Echo Dot. I turn to Mr. Callahan. “Mr. Callahan, bingo’s over for today. You won twenty-five dollars. Isn’t that exciting?”

Mr. Callahan blinks. “I did?” He looks down at the envelope of money in front of him, marked clearly in bold Sharpie $25. He gives me a sunny smile. “How wonderful! ”

I place it in his shirt pocket. “Don’t lose it, now.”

“I won’t.” His brow furrows. “What am I not losing again?”

“I’ll tell Dawn, don’t worry,” I say, referring to his daughter. “She’ll know what to do.”

Mr. Callahan relaxes. “Yes. Dawn will know what to do.”

I hope his daughter has gotten some well-deserved respite from taking care of her father. Even if it was just two hours. I help Mr. Callahan stand and hold his elbow as we walk to the door, where Dawn is waiting. “He won twenty-five dollars,” I inform her, pointing to her father’s pocket.

“I did?” Mr. Callahan says again. He looks down at his pocket. “Oh, how wonderful!”

“How about I take care of that for you, Dad?” Dawn smiles indulgently.

Mr. Callahan takes the envelope out and hands it to her.

As they leave, I see Mr. Price helping Damien clean up, still holding the Echo Dot under one arm. I hurry over. “Thank you, Mr. Price. You were so helpful tonight. But now I must insist you go home and rest that foot! Plus, you need to hook up your new toy.”

Mr. Price beams. “This is going to be so much fun!” He limps away.

“You know,” I scold Damien, “you shouldn’t set that precedent. Now every one of our seniors is going to want to help you call bingo!”

Damien winces. “Sorry. I just… had to.”

“I know. It’s hard not to.” I bump hips with him as he puts the balls back in the cage.

He smiles at me and my heart pounds. “Are you hungry? Neither of us have had time to eat much of anything today.”

“No, we haven’t,” I realize. “Usually, I’d have a sandwich before bingo, but I completely forgot.” I wink at him. “I blame you.”

“As you should. And my punishment is that I need to take you out to dinner as soon as we’re finished cleaning up here,” he declares.

“Well, if you insist.” I laugh, while inside me a swarm of butterflies seems to have gotten loose in my chest. “Thanks, Damien. I’d like that.”