Page 132 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“You shot me in the chest like fifty times—I figure you owe me.”

I motion for him to come in and pass him the bowl of ramen salad.

“Nothing beats MSG and corn-flavored beef.”

“Michelin chefs don’t know what they’re missing,” Lucas deadpans.

We sit on the couch together, awkwardly, as if we didn’t just see each other two days ago.

Lucas tilts his head at me and smiles. “I’m guessing you haven’t read the news today, given you’re not asking me about what happened with my company.”

“I think you’ve already guessed the entire purpose of my sentiment analysis program was to filter Lucas-specific news out.”

“Yes, I guessed.”

Because Lucas is back to his not-talking mode, I take over. “Brody said I should ask you about the note he gave you? Given his unsubtle hint, I’m guessing they weren’t Brody’s notes pre when I met with my father?”

“You know Brody.”

“He never takes notes, I know. But⁠—”

“We see what we want to see sometimes, right?” He takes out his wallet and hands me the coffee-stained note. “It was from our poker game last year.”

Unfolded, it reads:

Dear Lucas Fucking Murray,

You win. I lose.

I owe you big.

Happy?

Insincerely,

Brody the Brodster

P.S. Good luck getting this admitted in court.

“I am very confused. Why did Brody have an IOU he clearly made out to you?”

“He overbet at last year’s tournament. He should have already been out, but he wanted to stay in. I told him it was better to fold, but he was in a stubborn mood, and so I told him to write me an IOU.”

“And then?”

“I gave it back to him a day later. He was sober by then but still pissed and promised he’d find a way to pay it back to me. Something, something, proper way of things. Men’s code. You know Brody.”

I nod. “Meaning you guessed about Tsai Ji Lai? And the investment?”

Lucas shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure until the Akoni astronomy extravaganza. Given your sisters’ house and my mother’s apartment complex was on the line, I wondered if that would have already been enough, but the way Brody was talking, I knew I had to be missing something. And the investment piece . . . made sense. It would have meant you knew I had no way of helping. Because I would have been underwater too.”

The longer he speaks, the more monotonous his voice gets, and I realize, finally, that for the first time all week, Lucas has made no move to touch me or hold me. Instead, he’s sitting at the far end of the couch, as if we’re . . . acquaintances.

“So.” Because I know this is a Lucas-approved full sentence and that he’s not done with his thought, I twist my hands together and wait. “I made a large stock donation that was announced today.”

“Okay.”

“To be fair, I told the lawyers it should have technically been a sale, because you were an original investor, but due to legalese I didn’t have the patience for, they assured me it would be easiest as a gift.”