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Liam wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“Bridget’s always the top hat,” Will said, frowning.
“Then she should have moved quicker,” Marcus said, and slipped the piece into his pocket as if he were worried he’d be asked to give it back. “I mean, the whole point of the game is to get in first and come out on top, am I right?”
Bridget, who’d had her hands full wiping the remains of a Vegemite sandwich off Balian’s face, gave Marcus a dark look.
“Actually,” Ambrose said a little pompously, and Liam took a moment to admire the way he was taking the opportunity to be a know-it-all pain in the arse, “Monopoly was originally invented as a demonstration of the failings of capitalism. It came with two sets of rules—one based on one winner taking all, and one where all players came out ahead through land taxes and equitable wealth distribution. Ironically, in a demonstration of the failings of a greed-driven society, the idea was stolen and a bastardised version was sold to Parker Brothers. So no, it wasn’t the name of the game, not to begin with.”
“Isn’t that interesting!” Fi said too brightly, a fixed smile on her face. “Now we’re going to have to play in teams, because there are so many of us. Shall we make it couples?”
“I only play solo,” Marcus said quickly, “and I’ll be Banker, since it’s practically my job. Neve can play with Riley. That’s all right, isn’t it, babe?”
Neve looked slightly put out but nodded her agreement. “I guess.”
Liam frowned at that, because wasn’t Ambrose meant to be the professional arsehole here? But Ambrose stepped up and filled his role perfectly when he said, “Everyone knows the Banker always cheats.”
“It’s only cheating if you get caught,” Marcus said. He tipped Ambrose a wink that Liam wasn’t sure he was meant to see, and he wondered what it meant. Ambrose appeared to ignore it and instead busied himself getting settled on the floor around the board. Monopoly always ended up being played on a floor somehow, even if there was a table right there—it seemed to be an unspoken universal rule that the game wasn’t complete without a numb arse from sitting on the ground and a sore, stretched back and creaking hip joints at the end of it.
Liam plopped himself down next to Ambrose, who ignored him in favour of studying the battered rule booklet closely. Liam couldn’t help feeling a little rejected, and he had to remind himself that this was an act, that Ambrose liked him, and was just doing what Liam had paid him to do—namely, be all wrong for him.
Ambrose cleared his throat and asked, “Do you guys play the rule where all properties sell on landing? Or the coward’s version?”
“All properties sell on landing,” Will, Fi and Neve chorused in unison, and Liam was reminded again that his entire family took this way too seriously.
“Just so you know, this lot plays for sheep stations,” he murmured to Ambrose.
Ambrose just grinned, sharp and slightly evil. “Oh, so do I.”
Everyone arranged themselves around the board, and Marcus distributed the cash. Ambrose insisted on double counting, presumably just to be a dick, but it turned out that Marcus actually had an extra three hundred dollars. He laughed it off, and something tickled at the base of Liam’s spine. Marcus hadn’t even flinched at being caught out, which made Liam wonder if it was because he lied so often and so well that it was second nature. Or maybe he was being unfair, and Marcus genuinely had made a mistake. But still, the prickle of unease wouldn’t go away.
They started to play, and everyone was incredibly polite for the first three or four rounds of the board, maybe because there were guests. The good manners soon fell away, though, when Ambrose bought Oxford Street and gave Will, who already had Regent and Bond Street, a shit-eating grin. “Too bad, old man. No landlord earnings for you.”
“Opportunistic little bastard,” Will said with a scowl.
“That’s me,” Ambrose agreed breezily. “But I might sell it to you later, if the price is right.”
“You can’t on-sell properties,” Marcus objected.
“You can in the Connelly rules,” Neve said firmly, and Liam suspected she was still annoyed at Marcus for ditching her so quickly.
“We’ve always traded,” Fi said. “It keeps it interesting.” Marcus was obviously either smart enough or intimidated enough not to argue with her.
Ambrose waggled the orange card he’d just bought at Will obnoxiously before tucking it under the edge of his thigh at the top of his folded legs, where it nestled next to the railroads that he’d bought so far. Well, they’d bought, since Liam was technically playing, even though Ambrose appeared to be calling the shots. “I’m open for any offers,” he announced loudly.
Marcus snorted. “I’ll just bet you are.”
“For the property,” Ambrose clarified with a raised eyebrow. “For anything else, I’m taken. Right, cutie?” He leaned over and pinched Liam’s cheek. It was obnoxiously affectionate, and Liam honestly didn’t know whether to pull back in embarrassment or lean into it. Of course, then Ambrose ruined it perfectly by running a thumb over Liam’s bottom lip and murmuring slightly too loudly, “God, I love your sexy mouth.”
There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Neve cleared her throat and sent the dice clattering across the board. “Double six!” she crowed, as Bridget leaned forward and moved their counter, landing them on Whitechapel. They didn’t want to buy it, which meant that a furious bidding war soon broke out between Marcus and Ambrose before Fi swooped in and outbid them both, giving her the set.
“Congratulations, you’re a slumlord,” Ambrose told her. “Don’t forget to never do any maintenance, turn up at the arsecrack of dawn for unscheduled inspections, and bump up the rent every chance you get. It’s how you get rich preying on the underprivileged.” That earned him a glare from both Mum and Dad, but he just shrugged, seemingly unrepentant. “What? I told you, I’m a kid from Macquarie Fields. I’m just telling it how it is.”
Liam was struck with a sudden desire to sit his parents down and explain that Ambrose didn’t mean any of what he said, that it was all an act, he really wasn’t like this, and would the real Ambrose Newman please stand up, please stand up?
But then he remembered that the whole point of this was to show he had terrible luck with men, buy him some peace and quiet and get him out of dating Mary’s boy Richard—he of the ferret features—so he kept his mouth shut, let Ambrose do his thing and let his family continue to think he was dating a wanker.
And Ambrose, to his credit, played the wanker incredibly well. He did little things, like extending his elbows just far enough that he continually jabbed Bridget in the side and making an obnoxious clip-clopping noise with his tongue every time someone moved their counter. He insisted on folding his cash into tiny origami shapes before he handed it over when he had to pay anyone rent. He even stole a bite of Balian’s biscuit, earning an outraged squawk from the toddler.
