CRAZY RICH ILLÉANS
XI
Fast and Flirty
"You didn't sleep well," Cassia states. She is not wrong. Far from that; Maeve spent half of the night staring at the wall, and the other on the internet. Not even the most expensive beds allowed a good night's rest.
She laughs out dry. "Did you listen to the Love Report yesterday?"
Cassia took a sip from her coffee. Maeve had invited her to meet up for lunch. "No—but I read the news. Do you know that woman?"
"No. She's a distant relative by marriage, I suppose, but that's generations ago."
Maeve already told Cassia about yesterday afternoon, and how the sleepless night led to her discovering that, quite literally, everyone she knows in Illéa until now (with an exception of Anna—she didn't even trust Noah's co-worker at this point. And any adults, she hopes) seems to be part of that chat.
"On the bright side," she adds, "it's not my name."
"But distant family."
Maeve shakes her head. "I don't think anyone considers the Schreaves and Lowells to be family at this point." She pauses. "I guess I'm glad that it's not my name out there again…"
Going by what she heard from her mother at work, and by what she found online, Samantha Lowell's affair is real. She has to wait for Daphne to hear more from Mary (yikes) who the two expected to be much more up-to-date on the situation.
"Understandable. I'd be, too." She looks too calm to understand.
"There's only been two cases and now people are making a game out of predicting the next."
Cassia frowns. "That's ridiculous."
"I know. Poppy Astor said that we shouldn't give then any attention, and honestly, I kind of agree. I just want to forget this all!" She groans.
"I'm glad that I'm not on the list of candidates…" the brunette says nonetheless.
"You're Maria Andersson's daughter." She had been a guest at the Rose Cotillion, too. Daphne knows her. She's part of society.
(But Cassia probably doesn't have any exposing secrets.)
"But without any contact," she reminds her. "I'm avoiding it on purpose. This is more of a holiday than 'reunite with mum'…"
Maeve shrugs. "You literally studied medicine. In Spain. In your second language. Take a break, girl. Even I didn't study in a foreign language, and languages are literally my only hobby."
"I—it's not that big of a thing. I lived there before," Cassia insists with a blush.
"Don't you think it strange? Go from 'hey this girl's back in town' to 'she's cheating on her husband'?" Maeve asks. "I'd like to think, it's not a scandal for me to be back home."
"True—but the first time is the biggest shocker, isn't it? People thought you had your hands in it, as you said. To make a grand entrance."
She's got a point. "But the only connection between Samantha and me is that we are part of families that have someone that—generations ago!—married into the Illéa family."
"Personal vendetta?" Cassia suggests. She shakes her head. "No. That doesn't make sense. They'd target the Illéas."
"There aren't any Illéas left besides people that married into other families and live in Europe, and who knows, maybe some relatives of that dude that ran away."
"Tshat feels like awfully much work for revenge, though. Trace down a family tree that much? What happened to that dude that ran away?"
Maeve shrugs. She's no expert in the Illéa family tree. "Didn't agree with Gregory's plans or something. Thought he could make a point by running away. Didn't. His younger brother became Gregory's heir, and his sister got a trust fund. He got nothing."
"Maybe he wants his fortune back?"
Maeve cringes. "That was ages ago—when Illéa was being build. I doubt he's alive. Plus, the Illéa fortune is pretty much gone. Inflation and recklessness destroyed it."
"Your family didn't inherit it?"
"My grandma got what was left, but most of my family's fortune was built back up by her. There's no way some Illéa descendant could claim that—even if it was."
(Little did she know.)
"Blackmail?"
"We have a literal army of lawyers. That'd be stupid. That's what the Lowells might do, if they decide to pretend that the affair isn't a thing. Sue for defamation."
"Then I don't know," Cassia ends.
"Nobody does." She sighs. "Whatever. It's not my name. I don't care. The police will take care of it. How's your life going?"
"I spent a week on the beach, avoiding the fact that my mother wants to meet me?" She sighs. "I'm trying to find a good excuse on what else to do. I could be at home, helping with everything but now I'm here, doing nothing."
"Why not go to your mum?"
Cassia sighs. "I don't really want to, honestly. I thought my feelings might change once I come here, but they've clearly not. But I don't want to go back, you know? I thought I might do some charity work, while I'm here."
"I don't know how medicine works," Maeve suggests, "but do that? Work as a doctor?"
"Nah…" she leans back. "It's been a while since I took a break from that. And residency is so much work… How about you?"
(Evidently, she doesn't want to.)
"I mean, everyone probably still hates me and is in Noah's little chat. Yesterday wasn't too bad. It was fun. They made an effort not to talk about it." She pauses. She still has Estelle's advice. "So, I was thinking—if I befriend with everyone in the chat but Noah, then maybe I can still get in, without him. Or convert them, if it has to be. I just don't know how."
"You know," Cassia remembers, "I used to be friends with Noah—and also with Griffin Vael. Do you know him?" Yes, she does. He's still scary. "I could try to get into the chat. I find it a bit strange, you know? You said that Sia is always busy with university and that it seems like she hasn't really been around the chat, yet she is in? You're childhood friends with Nate and Perci, and went to the same school as more members—EFPA. I remember Noah to be kind, but it feels a bit illogical."
"Yeah."
"I could text him, and be like 'hi, long time no see'. I do want to catch up, yes, but from what you've said, it feels like Noah has changed since I last knew him." She pauses.
"I'd be using you a spy." That makes even Gemma feel guilty.
"I'd get to meet old friends again, and help a new one." Cassia smiles. "Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. It'll be fine."
"Do you think so?" She can't really believe that.
"Yes."
Cassia moves to message Maeve's cousin. She watches in silence—he's not online, Cassia tells her. If this doesn't work, though, she'll need to make amends with Noah. Get along with Mr Everyone-loves-me. Pretend to be friends with him. As I she'd like him too. She shudders. What a strange idea.
"I was thinking—since everyone thinks I caused a 'scene' at his birthday party—" She doesn't say that without rolling her eyes. "—I could host a party myself? I don't know how though! I'd just look weird if I made it for Noah, and if not, it's just a party… My birthday isn't until much later next year."
"If you just want to befriend with people and show that you don't cause scenes, just invite them to hang out? If you want a good cause—fundraisers? It could even go to his club. That'd look like you think he needs money though…"
"Inviting people sounds like fun!" Maeve beams. A great opportunity to use Sia and Gabby to get to their brothers too! She can work on her boyfriend debacle! "I could ask Sia, Gabby and you to come to my place this evening. Mum's out with friends either way, so we have the whole place for us—yes, I live with my mum."
Cassia's smile is only half-hearted. "Why not? I'm happy to come."
Sia can't come. She has work relating to her internship. The evening's starting out great. Maeve, being the great planner she is, doesn't waste time considering what they can do without excluding Gabby. Movies could work (subtitles) but that wouldn't help her with getting closer to Gabby and somehow getting herself invited to her place to meet Juan again.
She only realises that at point five o'clock, when she takes her leave. Fortunately, there's no late night work tonight. Maybe Anna organised that on purpose—because of yesterday—but maybe she didn't and it's a coincidence. Gemma Maeve Schreave doesn't care.
Cassia and Gabby arrive around the same time. Either Cassia googled Gabby, or she's known her before—or, of course, she figured it out on her own. They talk through Cassia's phone when they arrive in the Schreave's penthouse.
(Of course, Maeve has forgotten to look up sign language.)
"Hey you two!" she beams, and then awkwardly waves at Gabby. At least she's kind enough not to be awkward. Gabby's a darling. "How was your day?" she adds on, also on a phone so Gabby can read it.
Awesome! Went to a charity event for disabled kids! Also, I can read lips, Maeve, don't worry that much! J
"Do you?" Maeve asks.
Yes, but I'm not the best. It'll be fine! J worst case, I can always ask
Cassia smiles. "True. What are we going to do? Any ideas?"
"We could play a game," Maeve says, making sure to speak slow so Gabby can keep up. "We have a few board games—how about Monopoly, or something?"
"Sure—if Gabby is cool with it?" She nods—so everything seems to be fine.
Maeve used to play board games all the time with her parents, and they still have a sizable collection. Her personal favourite has always been Monopoly—she doesn't get why people hate the game so much—and they've got more than one edition of it. She chooses the Illéa version.
They hand out money and game pieces, and roll a dice to determine who will start. Maeve, of course, gets two ones, while Gabby gets a total of five and Cassia gets two sixes. Good old luck, huh? Cassia starts, but to Maeve's fortune chooses not to buy any roads. Gabby follows, buys a blue road, and then it's her turn.
Maeve rolls two threes—and buys the blue property she lands on. She rolls again—two fours—and buys the next property.
"You a re going to lose all your money before we finish the first round!" Cassia reminds her.
"It'll be fine," Maeve grins. She rolls again—two sixes.
Gabby hands Maeve her phone. Prison for you :P
That doesn't matter, because she's already gotten two properties and Cassia might land on one of them. Cassia rolls—lands on the second station, University Station—and after a moment of hesitation buys it. Gabby moves on without action.
Maeve has to make a decision: pay and get out of jail, or let them go ahead. She knows that she has far from any monopoly in the game yet, and even if being in prison means that the money goes to the banks, it goes somewhere else than her fellow player's pocket and that's the goal. Right now, she needs to acquire more properties.
"I'll pay to get out of prison," she announces, and makes her roll to move on (and buy the next property).
The rounds go on a little bit, and as they play and (or so Cassia and Gabby believe) randomly acquire properties, Maeve begins sketching a little plan. To avoid Gabby or Cassia reading it, she writes the numbers down in Korean.
(Hey, she gets to practise!)
She does the math because it's been a while since she last played the game with anyone. She compares rent and price with another, and remembers that somewhere, she heard that three houses makes most sense.
It gets interesting when she offers Cassia to trade two (different) expensive properties on side three and four for her station. Cassia might be clever enough to do medicine, but she only catches that something's off.
"You'd lose money."
"You're free to give me money," Maeve teases. "No, I just have this thing with my mum that we try to get the stations before anything else. Tradition," she lies.
Cassia shrugs it off and makes the deal. Over the time, Maeve acquires more (and the orange and pink streets, too) by kindly trading off streets. It's even better when Gabby comes to her for a blue one, and she can get the pink one in return.
When they get into the late game, her investment turns out very good. Orange and pink are closest to the jail, and the jail is more than one-in-thirty-six-times likely, thanks to the game's rules. That and her stations allow a continuous revenue flow—and of course, Maeve holds a few cards hostage to prevent Cassia from completing the red streets. Finally, Gabby and Cassia both having the yellow and green cards (and the obvious intention to complete them) means that they stall another.
Maeve soon forces Gabby to mortgage blue when she once again lands on the prison, gets out and then ends up on the orange field.
"You're good!" Cassia remarks surprised when ending on her streets once more.
Maeve smiles (not willing to reveal her strategy). "Just luck."
It takes a few more rounds of waiting in jail, Gabby finally getting her green street and a bunch of bad rolls for Cassia to lose.
Too bad L, Gabby writes. Her budget is less than Maeve's too.
By the time they finish the game and Maeve stores it, the room has filled with orange, gentle light. Her stomach rumbles.
"Do we want to get something to eat?" Maeve asks, while writing it down for Gabby too. "eWe could get takeaway, or order something. Or make something, I suppose." She likes cooking, but she can't know if Cassia and Gabby do.
"Sure!" Cassia says.
We can go to my place, if you want? My family always wants us to bring friends and we always have too much food! J
(Oh, fate is smiling upon Maeve.)
"That'd be awesome. How did you two get here? I can drive us—and I can drop Cassia later."
My brother drove me. Please drive :D
"Public transport," Cassia laughs. "I still need to get myself a car. So, yes, please drive."
Maeve leads them down to the garage where Gabby comments that she is 'almost as bad as Juan'. There's certainly a smile on her face. Maeve really wants to drive her Ferrari Sergio Pininfarina (one that she once bought for three million from an European collector—a long story involving a trip to Europe and the hope to get her dad back into her life, ridiculous now that she looks back) but that one only has two seats, she goes for the Porsche 911. Julian once bought it, but then realised he first needed to build a new garage. By the time, it was build, he wasn't interested anymore and gave it to his handicapped former sister-in-law. She doesn't have many cars with more than two seats (but really, why would you buy a car as a transport medium for the whole family).
"Do you like cars?" Cassia laughs.
"Yes—and no. My dad used to buy them all the time," Maeve explains while driving out of the garage. "I got a bunch over the years too—the Bugatti from last weekend is one of them—but we used to have way more. Older ones—like, a decade old—but mum sold them with my uncle's help. Donated the money to charities or kept it. She didn't see a reason to keep them, with me abroad."
(Unknown to her, Gabby texts someone.)
The address that Gabby gives her is a beach house, not that far away from the Illéa Palace. Most people live here (read: rich people), but Daphne Daulton-Schreave likes the closeness to work. Car rides are always an annoyance, she keeps saying.
(Maybe Maeve should move out.)
Gabby and Cassia sit in the back, so Gabby can hand Cassia her phone and Maeve doesn't need to read while driving, and Gabby explains that usually her brothers live in a penthouse in the city, but she thinks that they'll be home tonight, at the insistence of their mother.
Bingo.
Juan's (and Gabby's) parents are happy to have them join the family for dinner. Maeve vaguely recognises them from older movies and remembers that, yes, of course, Juan's parents were movie actors as well, before settling down. She occasionally sees his father, too, but not as much as Juan. Their older brother, Miguel, introduces himself as DJ.
"Nice to meet you," Maeve beams.
"Hi there," Miguel says. By his side is a young woman—soon introduced as Alina Jefferson, Miguel's girlfriend. For a moment, Maeve is worried—but Miguel is around thirty and a little too old for her. She needs no sugar daddy.
Juan is there too (lucky Maeve) and the instant Gabby notices him, she signs something to him. He laughs. "You're what?" he asks, directing the words at Maeve.
She looks up. "Huh? What?"
"Gabby says you're a car fanatic?" Juan asks. "Show me."
"Not a fanatic," Maeve, of course, insists. "I just got given a few from my father and I added one or two to the collection. Happy to show you, though. You too?"
Juan laughs. "Gabby keeps saying that my garage is a waste of space. But sure."
"Is here? She said you live Sonage."
"I do, but that place is full of wanna-be celebrities. Most of them are here; I only have seven in Sonage."
"Only seven," Maeve laughs, "I see."
Juan guides her to the underground garage, noting on how only three of them do not belong to him. 'Them' being a myriad of cars, most black as the night, that patiently wait for Juan. Maeve's heels echo in the garage.
"This is—large?"
"I've been thinking about expanding," Juan admits, "but my father doesn't want any work going on here. They prefer their peace, you know? So I looked into garage spots, but there isn't anything of standard in Illéa. We really do have a space problem."
Maeve knows. That's why Julian had them store some of his cars at their place. "At least the government is finally funding building new islands."
"That'll take years, though," Juan complains. "I did buy land, though."
"Didn't we all," Maeve laughs. "Tell me about the cars. You do have a few black ones."
"Black is always the right colour."
Maeve could disagree, but she could also not. "What's your favourite?"
Juan stops. There's merely an ominous dropping of water echoing, but that's inevitable if you dig into an artificial island.
"La Voiture Noire," Juan decides, and points to one of many cars. Another Bugatti, a good choice, Maeve thinks.
"I heard it was bought by an anonymous buyer," she says. "You must have only gotten it recently. They were touring it around, weren't they?" She laughs. Ridiculous! It was already sold! A media stunt, obviously.
Juan nods with a proud grin. "I finally did—I am glad I got the deal."
"You paid before it was even build," Maeve remembers amused. Such random things, yet she understands. Shopping is the best therapy—even if it's car shopping! She followed the car's creation a little bit—though, this she knew from the magazines she occasionally read. "How many millions, again?"
"Eighteen."
"I see," Maeve replies. She slides her hand over the cold motor of the black beast. It's rather low, compared to other cars she has driven, but that isn't what makes her smile fade. Eighteen million. Goodness, how many of the kids she taught last year could use that money for better living conditions? For the rent alone.
(It's frivolous, and even Maeve realizes that.)
"What's your favorite car?" Juan asks.
"Here?" Maeve asks, and skims around in the room. She strolls past them all, taking closer looks at a few. "This one."
"The Tesla?" Juan asks. "That one's old. It only drives up to 225 kilometers per hour."
"It feels pretty."
Juan laughs. "Let me show you really pretty cars, then. Come along."
He shows her to the end of the rows of cars, towards two in particular. One of them is red, with oversized spotlights and an odd-shape that almost reminds Maeve from the Cars movie. It's got character. The 'dumb little cutie' type of character.
"Oh my goodness, it's adorable!" she exclaims.
"Alfa Romeo Tipo 33," Juan elaborates. "And I thought you'd say that. It's always this one—or the old pink car. Ori really likes that one, but she's been at the beach so much, she's never got time for a race…"
Maeve rolls her eyes. "And the other?"
Juan moves her along to an Aston Martin DB5. "That one's from James Bond!"
"It's an original used in the production. They're using a replica in the next movie, and I got my hands on this on. This and the red one are the only cars not in black I have." This one's champagne colored.
"You're really playing the Illéan James Bond up, don't you?"
"When I got the cast for the pigeon movie, yes. I didn't expect it to turn into a pigeon joke."
"It's unfortunate," Maeve teases. "You always can try to be Bond later on."
"Bond actors are always so old, though," Juan complains amused. "Wanna go for a ride?"
"And pretend to be a bond girl? Sure," she laughs.
(Suddenly, prospects seem possible.)
Of course, that little dreamy afternoon can't last forever and poor Maeve has to return home eventually. However, she doesn't do that without inviting Juan to come over the following day, to introduce him to her little car collection. Less impressive than his, sure, but it's a reason to invite him over once more.
(She does extend said invitation to Cassia (who knows to deny) and Gabby (who happens to have a photoshoot.)
When Juan Santiago, A-list actor and crush of thousands of teenage hearts arrives at her doorstep, Maeve makes sure to look her part too. Daphne chuckles at her morning efforts in front of the mirror, but that doesn't matter to Maeve. She's got an (unofficial) date! Even if it's already late afternoon.
"Welcome to my humble home," she greets Juan, leaning into the doorframe in a desperate attempt to look cool. (It doesn't work.)
"Glad to be invited—though, I doubt you're storing cars in a penthouse."
Maeve laughs. "A friend of mine has a car elevator. Just you drive in, hold for a moment and it drives you straight into your living room."
Juan curls his lip. "But then you'd need to always exchange the car. That doesn't sound practical to me…" He shakes his head, and his hands wander back into his pockets.
"I agree," Maeve throws in. She's never thought of that, but does it matter? "Let's go down, then."
The elevator here works through calling and residence control, or through cards. Maeve has hers on her (this time; she used to forget it all the time) but that's not needed if your apartment has an express elevator privately owned. Daphne likes not to wait. Maeve likes the idea of it.
Compared to Juan, her own garage if two things: smaller and without the scary echo. It's newer (the central business district went through a large overhaul before she was born; Angeles mansions tend to be passed down because of how expensive they are—sucks to be poor), and a renovation added acoustics that drown those creepy echoes.
Also, glowing lights in the floor. Useful if you need to find a certain car. Smart homes.
Juan notices it. Great. "Your garage is much more modern than mine. Where'd you get it renovated?"
"That was my uncle when he stored some of his cars here."
"Isn't he more retro?"
"He has a few modern ones. Few, but they exist," she assures. "Wanna take a ride?"
(She suggests it before remembering—Juan probably her the same cars, in black.)
"I know a cool spot to do racing. You interested?"
Maeve laughs. "Not so sure if my cars are in for racing, but sure."
"They do borrow cars, if you're so worried about it. I'm a good driver, though."
"That's what they all say," she teases. "Let's go and try out your racing track."
Maeve makes a point of driving herself, though predominantly to have an excuse to let Juan drive first once they reach the racing track. It takes a while to get to Illéa's harbour, and from there, they take a ferry (one that allows cars; Juan has to call someone though) to one of the smaller islands surrounding Illéa. Maeve quickly gasp that just like Dominica, this is a privately owned island.
What many people have as golf resorts, Illéa has as a private racing tracks.
"I think my uncle and my dad used to come here," Maeve remembers. "Do you come here a lot?"
"Not a lot-a lot," Juan replies. "It gets boring if you go alone, and my friends are either not invested enough into racing, or work when the track's open."
"You can invite me along," Maeve brings up, "I'm happy to come along, if I have time."
Juan grins as he drives the car from the ferry onto asphalted road. The racing track is a little off the land. Unlike Illéa's largest island, this one isn't utterly surrounded by fine white beach. There's a golf course, too, she thinks. If her memories don't lie.
(That's possible though. It's been ages since she's been here.)
"Have you been here with your dad?" Juan asks. By the way he talks about Christian Schreave, Maeve guesses he doesn't know what happened. Or he doesn't bother. He's an actor. Probably second generation rich. Not the type to care about these stories.
"Ages ago. They've changed things, I think. There used to be a little restaurant."
"Oh, yeah, they shut it down. Anyone who comes here can also quickly get back to Illéa, and there's better food over there." He says that as if Illéa isn't only ten minutes ferry away and the city's towering skyscrapers hover behind them.
"The track going strong though?"
Juan nods, and between his directions says, "Yeah. You have an exclusive golf club and a racing track, including cars free for you to demolish. Bit of an insurance thing, but I don't go that hard."
"Demolish?" Maeve repeats. "What?"
"Some people like to take the curves too hard. There's been cases of crashes. There are some timeframes for each racing class. They've got some Formula One-type cars, that's when people with no idea of how to drive crash into the ocean. It's the type you'd expect to buy a star and brag about it. It's a waste of money, and not even real bragging rights."
Real bragging rights are things like La Voiture Noire.
"We're not doing that, aren't we?" Maeve clings onto the wheel of her little darling car that she does not want demolished.
"Nah, today's just for normal cars without a speed limit."
Maeve lets go. "Like on German highways? I can do that."
Juan laughs. "Like that, yes. You should try the real racing, though. It's fun."
"I think, I prefer racing. Here?" She points towards a little house, surrounded by a noticeable garage and a few—not more than ten—parking spots. She's seen some on the way, too, but going by the looks of the cars, they have to be for the golfers.
"Yup. Let's go, grab a car."
(She'Ts still onto the plan of letting Juan drive.)
The clerk there, reading a newspaper with feet on the desk, greets Juan like an old friend. "Hey, bud! Here for the day?"
Maeve clutches her bag when Juan says, "Yeah. Am here with a friend. She's worried about her car. Can we grab one from here?"
The clerk laughs, but Maeve pulls a frown. No need to expose me like that! Not that she says anything, of course. Can't risk befriending (and more!) with Juan Santiago. The clerk throws a key chain to Juan. "It's a good day. Weather forecast said rain, but it doesn't look that at all. Track's free."
Given the exclusivity of, you know, renting a spot on a racing track with the price tags Maeve finds on the office's window, she doubts that it's ever crowded. Illéa might be doing well enough financially, but this is one place where she expects to meet other rich kids only.
Juan shows her the way to the garage. He doesn't even bother taking a look at the new (unreleased, Maeve notices) models but straight heads for a silver ride. It's flat, and—with Maeve's limited knowledge of aerodynamics—looks fast. Slim. Sleek.
"This one?" she asks, with a total lack of enthusiasm.
Juan's amused. He laughs. Douchebag, she thinks. "Afraid? We're not going that fast."
"I don't fancy a swim today," Maeve shoots back, but to prove a point (she's not scared of fast cars!) she enters the car. Fortunately, the car's not from Britain. Not that it's a problem—if nothing else, Maeve's frequent travelling has made her adept at various street rules—but she's still glad to not find a steering wheel in front of her. Juan drops into the car, adjusts the back mirror like a pro, and pulls the door close—careful not to slam it.
"Ready?" he asks with a boyish grin.
"I have the feeling, I have no other choice," Maeve jokes tense. She grinds her teeth. "When are we—oh!"
Juan turns the key and with far too much thrust races out of the garage. Maeve digs her nails into the fine leather. The thrust pushes her into the seat. That confident smile on Juan's face, though, looks like it's straight from a movie.
Well, he is an actor.
(Still, Maeve regrets living on an island.)
He makes his way out of the garage, onto the asphalt, and once they aren't in immediate vicinity of thick concrete walls, she relaxes and looks out of the window. This is a two-seater. "A warning would've been nice."
"It's just like a rollercoaster," Juan defends. He's right—but Maeve knows when a roller coaster starts.
"Remind me to kidnap and blindfold you onto a rollercoaster, when I've got the time."
"Will do." And he once more accelerates. This time, Maeve's prepared, and despite being thrusted into the seat, she doesn't yelp out. The car rushes past the few trees covering the view to the rocky beach and the water, until they reach the track.
There're no pretty trees here, although that's somewhat understandable. The track—a large, apparent oval, has a grass bridge over it, leading to a hill with what seems to be a pick nick area. For the golfers, Maeve assumes. Golf needs space, doesn't it?
"What's that island?" she asks Juan before he can race onto the track.
"For everyone who's not into racing or golf, but ends up here," Juan replies. "I used to put Gabby there, when my parents wanted me to take her out. That is, until she insisted to come along. Guess being deaf makes the motor noises no issue."
Maeve nods. "The bridge comes from the golf part, then?"
"Yeah. It's really annoying. I've heard of golf balls almost hitting cars. At these speeds…"
"There isn't much other space to put a golf course. You could stack it? That'd be an interesting business idea."
"You're the real estate girl. Surely, you can build that?"
"That's not really what real estate I about," titters Maeve. "Perci might help? His dad's in construction. Getting land seems like the easy part here. You'd need to design this, wouldn't you?"
Juan starts driving, but thankfully doesn't go above one-hundred-fifty just yet. "This sounds like a difficult think to do—architecture wise. I don't play golf, but don't these balls fly high?" He accelerates.
"Hmm…" Maeve frowns. "I don't know, I don't play it either."
"We should play a game to test it. I don't know though—wouldn't you say that some wide, grassy and empty course is a bit of the appeal of golf?" Juan wonders. "I suppose that adding some winds and all could make it interesting, but I doubt old people would like that."
"True," Maeve thinks. Juan's still accelerating, though now it's fun. He's getting past 200. She smiles. "This sounds like one of these fun play halls for kids, if you say it like that."
The tires squeak as the car turns around the track. Maeve pushes the window down, to put her hand out. The air pushes against her hand and flows past her fingers. The cold flushes her face.
"Careful, that can be dangerous," Juan warns unbothered.
"It'll be fine." She pulls her hand in a few moments later.
Juan does a few more circles before Maeve insists on her own turn. Of course, now that she's adjust to the speed, she immediately goes full throttle and races around the curve, nearly losing control. It takes a moment to adjust.
They stop after growing bored of the speed. The adrenaline only goes so far, doesn't it?
"Wanna test the golf thesis?" Juan suggests after returning the silver speeder. "We might catch a bunch of players."
"Market research aside," Maeve wonders despite following him to the golf field, "I wonder if the real issue here is construction and maintenance cost."
Juan pulls out his sunglasses. Good idea, looks cool—Maeve follows the motion. "Aren't golf courses super expensive to maintain, because everything has to be perfectly cut and watered? I think Noah once ranted about how bad for the environment it is…"
Despite flinching at her cousin's name, Maeve nods. "I suppose, if you build something that allows you to regulate things, it's good. Plus, you can add some natural trees and what not for a nice environment image. Existing gold courses can be remodelled for—"
"More racing tracks."
"—parks. Or that, I guess. Look, there's some wild golfers. Let's ask them." She points towards an elderly couple, of which the woman is just now taking a swing. The ball flies high. Too high. "Is that the norm?" she asks, unimpressed.
"In terms of golfing?" Juan shrugs. "Looks like it? I wouldn't know."
"That's high. That's expensive to build. Stacking two onto another might be possible, but more? I doubt golfing is popular enough here to get a good return."
"No golfing business, then?" Juan jokes and turns around.
"Maybe use that idea for something else," she adds. "How about we grab something to eat in the harbour?"
The sun is once more setting above the skyscraper silhouette of the brimming city Illéa. There are boats, barely more than a black shadow, and the lights glowing in the skyscrapers. Streets brighten up, one by one, as Juan slowly steers her car onto the ferry. Despite the beautiful image in front of her, Maeve doesn't smile though.
Today's been fun, but today is nearly over. Even if she gets Juan to hang out for some coffee.
She'll need to plan things better, and that's gonna be difficult—especially with side hustle 'befriend with the mysterious chat' going on. Sure—she can invite Juan over to drive again, but they won't do circles for a whole day, talking. That's no date.
She bites on her lip. Gemma Maeve Schreave has a lot of work to do.
(At least Juan, later on, invites her to an upcoming party at his family's house.)
Author's Note
Ending image is a courtesy to Wondy who dared us to use the image she took in our stories. (And my love for any sort of sky/sunset imagery). Sorry for the lack of updates, but uni/work is literally eating up any time I have; writing feels kind of weird now. If anyone got tips for getting back into writing after extended breaks, let me know.