_OceanofPDF

“No, no.” Tap tap on the keyboard. “Not a guy. I want to a fuck a
woman. A beautiful woman.”
“He doesn’t look like—”
“Fance. Stop. You’re killing me.”
“What?”
“Look at him! Damn. All right. Here it is. Business. He likes his
privacy.”
A scarcity of images and mentions on my Google search had told me
that. “Okay.”
“He’s a hundred percent single for a while now. Was on LA Seeker’s list
of Los Angeles’s Most Eligible Bachelors until two days before it went to
print. Then he was pulled.”
“How do you know that?”
“Right here.” He tapped a side screen with rows of code he knew I
couldn’t read. “He doesn’t like attention. His profile’s in this folder and the
added date is two days before. Here’s a Vanity Fair article on rich dudes at
Harvard. Early draft, he’s there. What they printed? Poof.”
“How are his finances?”
Amilcar turned to me with an incredulous look.
“Can you see that or no?” I asked.
“He’s a Crowne.”
“You never met a broke rich person?”
“Actually, no. I only know broke broke people and broke people trying
to act rich because they think the universe is gonna be fooled into believing
it.”
“If, let’s say, he wanted to buy something for… I don’t know… ten
million dollars? Does he have the cash to do it?”
“That is stupid money.”
“I know, can you—?”
“What’s going on with you and this guy, Fance?”
I shook my head. “Something. It’s harmless.”
“You pulling off a heist or something?”
“No. Amilcar. Trust me. Okay?”
He shook his head and looked at his watch before turning back to his
typing. “I gotta pick up Tasha from school in half an hour, so if I can’t pull
it up in fifteen, I’ll get back to you.”
“So late?”