I clasp my hands together and glance around the table. “All right, let’s get this thing going. Me and Mateo versus you and Adrian. I feel good about this.”
“You shouldn’t,” Adrian informs me, shaking his head sympathetically. “You’re on the wrong team.”
Mateo sits forward now, raising his eyebrows at Adrian. “Should we make things a little more interesting?”
“You wanna put money on it? You could just give a bonus envelope now, save yourself a couple steps.”
“No, not money, a vacation,” Elise interrupts, eagerly. “If we win, he gets a vacation. One week. Paid.”
Mateo shakes his head. “You’re terrible at this, Elise. One weekend, paid,” he counters.
Adrian nods at Elise. “Should’ve asked for two weeks. Didn’t give him any room to negotiate.”
Elise’s lips turn down with annoyance. “Wait, can I change my initial offer?”
“Nope,” Mateo replies.
“We’ll take a Morelli-free weekend,” Adrian states. “What do you want if you win?”
“Couples trip,” Mateo says easily. “You and Elise, me and Mia, one week.”
“No,” Elise bemoans.
“You’re going to be her friend eventually,” Mateo informs Elise. “Just sink into it—and hey, you still get your vacation. My treat.”
“It’ll be fun,” I tell Elise, grasping her arm. “We can go shopping. I mean, probably. Where are we going?” I ask Mateo.
“To be determined. I’m sure there will be shopping. I’m not much for camping.”
“Now that is what I should have asked for,” Adrian states, pointing at Mateo. “You camping. I can’t even envision it.”
“Would we bring Maria? I feel like we would have to bring Maria,” I state.
Elise nods. “We would have to fashion a dinner table out of tree stumps and fallen trees. Cook multiple courses over the campfire. Pre-dinner drinks out of a flask while the women get everything ready.”
“Food attracts bears,” Adrian states. “So a bear shows up.”
I grin. “And Mateo is highly unimpressed with the bear. So he gives it a good verbal assault and flashes his gun.”
“The bear leaves of its own volition, before things get ugly,” Mateo contributes.
Adrian nods his head. “Never mind, I can see it now.”
I wrinkle up my nose. “As much as I’d love to see that, I don’t really want to go camping either. I’m a big fan of amenities. The ability to safely cook food to the appropriate temperature and not just guess. No stinky bug spray. I’m not terribly fond of the wilderness as a whole.”
Mateo nods. “The backyard is about as wild as I want to get. We could camp in the backyard. Maria would probably be willing to bring dinner out there.”
“But even then,” I add, grimacing, “no air conditioning, so it will have to be an early fall trip. And if it gets cold, I’m coming in the house.”
Adrian shakes his head at me. “You’ve ruined camping.”
“We can hit up a city or a beach instead,” I suggest. “It’ll be fine.”
“This conversation is irrelevant,” Elise states. “We’re going to beat you guys and you’re going to have to survive without Adrian for a whole weekend. Neither one of you can call on him for anything. We’re leaving the house and I’m going to hide his phone.”
Since we all have a lot on the line, we fill our trays with letters and begin the game. Adrian decides we’re going oldest to youngest just so he can go first. Or, probably more accurately, so he and Mateo can go first. Sometimes Elise and I have a tendency to waste space early on with three or four letter words, while Mateo and Adrian are word wizards who can lay down seven tiles with nearly every play. Even when they get stuck with all vowels, they manage respectable word scores.
I rub my hands together as I finally get my first turn. I’ve been studying my letters, but now I study the board, seeking out the bonus spots, strategizing best placement.
Suddenly we hear coughing from down the hall—violent coughing, followed by something that sounds worse.
Elise launches out of the chair and runs down the hall to check on Westley.
Once she’s inside his room, she calls, “Help!”
I’m halfway down the hall before I realize she was probably calling for Adrian. That makes more sense. He gets there first anyway, but then takes a step back, grimacing, when he realizes why help was needed.
Westley’s little mouth is turned down, vomit pooled in his lap and trailing down his chin. “Aw, shit,” Adrian mutters, glancing at me.
“I’ll help with this,” I offer. “Why don’t you start a bath?”
He couldn’t look more relieved, and he can’t leave the room fast enough.
“Men,” Elise mutters.
I smile faintly, but I’m worried about Westley. “Does he have a fever?”
Placing the back of her hand against his forehead, she says, “He doesn’t feel warm. Ugh, this smells so gross. This was literally the only part of being a maid I didn’t like. Can you go grab a laundry basket?”