Chapter 27

Max awoke, glanced at his alarm clock, and groaned. It read exactly 7:00 AM. While that was the time he normally woke up most weekdays, he’d set the alarm to wake him an hour later today, but his brain seemed to not have gotten the memo. He was wide awake.

The reason for setting his alarm clock later slept next to him, all platinum blonde hair and pale skin. Paige had texted him right before midnight to see if he was up and agreeable to company. He’d been both.

Knowing she didn’t have class until later that afternoon, he slid quietly out of bed without disturbing her, grabbed a quick shower, and headed out for breakfast.

Rising this early was a new habit for Max. But he found that the early morning was often the best time for thought and reflection. By 8:30, people would be wandering in for breakfast and something would be happening pretty much until well after midnight. So much of that something was stuff Max wanted to be a part of that he didn’t like to miss a minute of it. Right now was the time to figure out what he was doing with the rest of his day, an increasingly important process as his responsibilities to the Fund and the loft in general seemed to be growing every day.

It wasn’t a perfect system, of course. This morning, he smelled coffee as soon as he got halfway up the hallway from the residential wing and felt a momentary flicker of annoyance that someone else dared to be up this early.

The annoyance died when he realized it was Nick. His closest friend was eating cereal and reading something on his iPad, so engrossed that he didn’t hear Max approach until he stood directly across from where Nick sat, back ramrod straight and intoned. “And now my watch is ended.”

Nick looked up and smiled. “Taking the black is for life, Max.”

“Yeah, but seneschal is just for the weekend.” Max went to the counter to grab himself a cup of coffee and a banana. “I gave myself a title while you were gone, by the way.”

“Seneschal? I like it. Very SCA.” Nick looked back down at his pad, eyes scanning the text.

Max sat across from him. “Reading anything good?”

“Paradise Now: The History of American Utopianism,” said Nick.

“Work-related, I guess?” Max asked.

“Kind of. I’m thinking about starting a cult,” said Nick.

“You know jokes like that are less funny when you’re a billionaire. Right?” Max reminded him.

“I’m not exactly joking,” said Nick. “It sounds like a horrible idea, but I’m trying to really understand why it’s a horrible idea or if cults just get a bad reputation because organized religions say horrible things about them.”

Max peeled his banana. “Any answers yet?”

“Well, I’m not crazy about the Shakers. They think the way to bring about salvation is by not having sex. I hate to say it, but I think I stand with organized religion on that one. And I’m not crazy about the Fourierists because they’re kind of batshit insane, but not at all hung up about sex. Each group seems to get some things right and some things wrong.” Nick put his pad aside. “The core theology of Shakerism is basically ‘don’t make any little Shakers’ and there are still Shakers today. Faith is a hell of a force multiplier.”

“It doesn’t really sound like your style,” said Max.

“Like I said, it sounds like a horrible idea,” Nick sipped his coffee. “Do you know why there’s a crane outside the building?”

“Because that’s how you install a hot tub on a Manhattan roof apparently,” said Max.

“The hot tub’s here already?” Nick looked up.

“The hot tub is not here. The hot tub is on a flatbed truck with a flat tire in North Carolina. Or, it was at eight o’clock when the installation crew took off for the night last night.” Max indicated the front of the building with his eyes. “The crane showed up at two to be ready for the hot tub at four, but the truck with the tub got a flat. Once it got dark, the installers went home. They’ll be back here at nine today.”

“Will the hot tub be here at nine?” Nick asked.

“Probably not. The last I heard, they were bringing in a new truck to transfer the tub to and drive it up here, but the driver was calling it a night,” said Max.

Nick opened his mouth, paused, and shook his head. “You’re a good seneschal, Max. I probably should have waited until I got back to actually order the hot tub.”

“The hot tub wasn’t my problem. Tanvi handled it. I just got to hear about it because I was playing poker with her in the game room,” said Max.

“More strip poker?” Nick asked.

“I don’t think Tanvi and I are in the ‘heads up strip poker’ phase of our relationship,” said Max. “Plus, she’s been my personal assistant by inheritance all weekend. So, I’m pretty sure asking her to play heads up strip poker would be sexual harassment.”

“But asking her to deal strip poker for a bunch of drunk teenagers isn’t?” Nick asked.

“She was playing too. Plus, Emily, Cat, and Casey are all in their twenties,” said Max.

“She was...” Nick started to ask, then shook his head. “You know, I was actually arrogant enough to think things would be quiet without me around here. How in the hell did you all wind up playing strip poker?”

“Well, they were all pretty buzzed and I was assigned the role of seneschal, not Captain Buzzkill. It’s really a shame the police raid happened when it did.” Max teased. He was dying to tell Nick about Arwen.

“It’s a shame the police raid happened at all,” said Nick. “Did Tanvi tell you anything about the PI?”

“She didn’t mention a PI,” said Max. “I can’t really tell if she thinks I’m really in charge when you’re away or if it’s some sort of performance art for her to pretend I am. For that matter, I’m also not sure if I’m really supposed to be in charge when you’re away or if that’s some sort of performance art for you. If I overstepped my boundaries, you can have my resignation letter as seneschal. But, I was mostly guessing.”

Nick considered him a long time before answering. Finally, he said, “I don’t know how much I’m really in charge when I’m here or if I’m really necessary, Max. But as much as I am, I need someone who can stand in for me when I’m not here. If you don’t want the job, I can ask someone else or hire someone or, I don’t know, create some sort of a rotation...”

Max raised his hand. “It’s fine. I don’t mind if my job actually involves some work, but maybe we should stop adding responsibilities until I’ve actually gotten on top of the ones I already have - maybe spread them around a little more. Our IT is a lot of work. Even finding people to do it is a lot of work.”

Nick nodded. “Let’s sit down with Tanvi and see what SSCS can do to help you. I don’t think they handle IT-specific staffing, but maybe they can help with the HR side of things.”

“They don’t and they can. I already talked to Tanvi about it. We just need your approval on the purchase order,” said Max.

“What’s a purchase order?” Nick asked.

“It’s a thing you sign to say it’s okay for us to spend your money. Tanvi drew one up for the...” Max caught Nick’s smirk. “Fine. You know what a purchase order is. I didn’t - or at least I didn’t know how to formally ask you to spend the Fund’s money. So, now we have purchase orders.”

“Cool. It’s like we’re a real multibillion dollar corporation,” said Nick.

“You’re chipper this morning,” said Max. “How late did you get in?”

“Around ten,” said Nick.

“Ten at night?” Max asked, surprised. Then, before Nick could make a joke, he added, “Ok. Of course ten at night, but why didn’t you come looking for me? I was right around the corner in the game room.”

“We were a bit preoccupied,” Nick said, abashed.

“‘We’ being...” Max prompted.

“Pilar and me,” said Nick. “She spent the night. She’s planning to spend a lot of nights.”

“Does Kiki know?” Max asked.

“Jazz knows. Kiki will find out this afternoon when we all go shopping together,” said Nick.

“Why would Jazz know first? Did you...” Max thought. “Wait. Did you sleep with Jazz?”

“Yeah, like a week ago and...” Nick frowned. “Did you seriously not know?”

Max considered playing it like he’d been getting revenge for the purchase orders joke, but he shook his head. “I didn’t get the memo.”

“Shit.” Nick sat back. “I’m sorry, man. We really need to hang out and shoot the shit some time. I have no idea how to tell you who I’m sleeping with and not sound like a total sexist pig.”

“I saw Emily’s tits,” said Max. “She asked me to unhook her bra for her.”

“I, uh ... Yeah.” Nick gave an uneasy laugh. “You mentioned that in the sitrep after the raid.”

“I know,” said Max. “But I figured if you were uncomfortable being a sexist pig, I would do it first. That’s what friends are for.”

Nick laughed. “You ... uh, didn’t mention the unhooking part in the sitrep. How did that go down?”

“I was on her right. She needed some help. She asked me. Logical choice,” said Max.

“Because she couldn’t take her own bra off?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Seems spurious.”

Max abruptly decided he didn’t want to tell Nick about Arwen. It might be too fraught even now. “Restore the man-pig balance. Who haven’t you told me about yet?”

Nick frowned. “Uh. That’s it, actually. You’ve known about Kiki. I just told you about Jazz and I did mention Pilar spent the night. Right?”

“Oh. So, why did I have to be a sexist pig then?” Max asked. “I thought you had more to tell me.”

“No. I was thinking we might not get to hang out until this weekend and the list could be longer,” said Nick.

“Ok. Balance restored,” said Max. “Also, I won’t be here this weekend. I’m heading down to Saint Martin to see if I can handle a real, live poker table.”

Nick snickered. “You know they only give you money when you win in casinos. It’s not as much fun as it apparently is here.”

“Saint Martin has nude beaches and I’m bringing Paige,” said Max. “You don’t have to win tits there. They grow free range.”

“Sounds like a great time. I should probably head down there some time,” said Nick. “I guess this weekend won’t be the time for us to go see Hamilton then - unless you’re completely uninterested.”

“I’m not uninterested and it’s worse for group events than you think,” said Max. “Dennis and Arwen and Lev are flying off to Kathmandu with Tiffany Patton to shoot a concert video. It’s just going to be you and Simon and, well, Shelby and Elizabeth and maybe Pilar and your player to be named later.”

Nick shook his head ruefully. “Clearly, I need to start scheduling my play dates further in advance. Speaking of which ... did I hear right that you’re mentoring Anne’s kid?”

“I’m not mentoring Tucker. I’m being a strong male role model for him and trying to keep him from getting beat up for talking about Jesus too much and explaining why he doesn’t want to look at porn at his age.” Max said.

“How did that happen?” Nick asked. “I thought you hated kids.”

“I only hate most kids most of the time,” said Max. “And Emily railroaded me into it. Then she and Anne both made puppy dog eyes at me at the same time. And the kid isn’t entirely horrible. So, it happened.”

“I’m really glad you guys picked up the slack with her,” said Nick. “I dropped her on strange shores without a lot of thought for what she would do when she got here. Who knew social workers didn’t work weekends?”

“I’ve heard some of her story. It sounds like she had to get away from that guy. There’s no way you were going to say no to her,” said Max.

Nick shrugged. “I mostly did it as a favor for my cousin Brody. I didn’t get much of her story. She ... really needs to work on her job interview technique. Or she needs to work for me until she retires.”

“Tucker was very impressed with your plane and your stewardess ... and Emily ... and Angry Birds, the Internet, and me actually,” said Max. “Maybe that’s why he’s not awful. He’s still easy to impress. I didn’t know you owned a plane, by the way.”

“I don’t own a plane. It’s a timeshare thing,” said Nick.

“So, I can’t borrow it to fly to Saint Martin this weekend?” asked Max.

“No, you totally can actually,” said Nick. “It’s yours.”

“I ... was kidding,” said Max uncertainly.

“No take-backs. You’re totally stuck with the plane this weekend.” Nick looked smug. “That’ll teach you to be a top-notch seneschal under extreme circumstances, buddy.”

“You ... seriously want me to take your plane this weekend?” Max asked carefully.

“It’s not my plane. I seriously want you to take it this weekend,” said Nick. “I can’t do it every time one of you want to fly off somewhere or I could, but it would be a nontrivial expense. So, consider it a thank you for keeping yourself and my other friends from getting arrested on some bullshit charges this weekend.”

“I didn’t...” Max started to protest.

“Group effort,” Nick interrupted him. “But you kept your head when things went pear-shaped long enough for the cavalry to arrive. I’ll be thanking everyone involved, but you get the plane.”

Max considered making one more pro forma protest, but the idea of telling Paige they were flying to Saint Martin on a private plane was too tempting to turn down. He hadn’t been as bothered by the existence of Harold since Emily had said she wanted to be dance partners, but he did want to stay way ahead in the fun boyfriend department. “Ok. Thanks. That’s really cool.”

They chatted for a little while longer, catching up on each other’s lives. Nick actually made Montana sound interesting. But the second time Max glanced at his phone, Nick asked, “You have somewhere to be?”

“I’ve started my forbidden exercise regimen this week and want to be in the middle of it when Connie gets here.” said Max. To the obvious question, he added, “Connie wants me to only do core exercises until I get my weight down, but I’m ready to do more. I started upper body stuff yesterday.”

Nick nodded. “I really need to start working out. I haven’t even been in the gym since they put the equipment in.”

“You could. Or you could just get fat and ugly and maybe lose some hair so you don’t get all the women,” said Max.

Nick smirked, picked up his phone, and without dialing said. “Yeah. Hi. It’s Nick. When Max shows up to take my plane to Saint Martin, could you make sure he flies in the baggage compartment? Super.”

“It’s not your plane,” Max smirked as he got up from the table. “Just try not to sleep with Paige until we get back from our trip. Ok?”

“Remind me again. She’s the tap dancer?” Nick glanced at his phone again. “I think I have her penciled in for right after Thanksgiving.”

Max laughed and punched him in the arm. “You really are a fucking asshole, man.”

“Love you too, Maximilian,” said Nick.

Downstairs, Max sat on the chest press, watched the YouTube video explaining form again, and started working. He was still doing reps when Connie stepped into the room and took off her sunglasses. “Morning, Max.”

“Good morning, Connie,” said Max. “How was Paris?”

“Paris was wonderful.” Connie unzipped her hoodie and hung it up. “Eddie really is a very vigorous lover for a man his age.”

Max winced, but it was more for show than real at this point. “Didn’t we agree you would save the really explicit talk until the girls get here?”

“I am. That was the executive summary,” Connie pointed out. “How was your weekend?”

“We played strip poker and the cops tried to arrest us all, but an Olympic fencer showed up and convinced the cops not to hassle us,” said Max. “Other than that, it was pretty quiet.”

Connie smirked. “Are you suggesting I don’t listen when you talk? I really only zone out when you start talking about computers.”

“Actually, I’m not. After Nick flew off to Montana, we all drank enough beer to make strip poker seem like a good idea and were playing when we got word the cops were coming,” said Max. “Somebody called somebody and Jesse showed up to talk the cops out of hauling us all off to the clink.”

“The clink?” Connie smirked.

“I’m sorry. I think your generation called it the hoosegow.” Max rose, wiped off the seat and headed to the shoulder press.

As he checked the weight, Connie asked, “When did you start doing upper body?”

“Months ago. Gym tan laundry,” said Max.

“You know, if women really wanted a sense of humor in a man, I would be totally wet now.” Connie looked Max over. “I guess you’re done with weight loss?”

“I’d like to lose a bit more, but I want some tone too,” Max sat on the bench. “I’ve been getting up early to think quietly and need something to do beside core.”

“Take your shirt off,” said Connie.

“Why?” Max paused.

“Because I want to see your chest,” said Connie.

“I’ve got to remember that approach. It seems so simple when you say it.” Max grumbled, crossed his arms, and managed to get the shirt off in one smooth pull like he’d seen in the workout videos. He held his gut in while Connie examined him.

Connie nodded. “You should probably do lower body on alternate days.”

“You can tell that with my pants on?” Max asked.

“I was evaluating your weight loss. You’ve got a few problem areas still, but those are incredibly stubborn without surgery. If you weren’t so precious about getting on a scale, I wouldn’t ask for a strip tease. The lower body comment is about keeping balanced. You don’t want Adonis arms and dad legs.” said Connie. “I do wish you’d let me bring Chesa in here, though.”

“Who’s Chesa?” Max frowned.

“She’s a fitness model and an actual personal trainer. I know a lot of tricks for working on specific problem areas. But you’re moving past most of the basic advice I can give you. Google ‘Chesa Zumba.’ She’s really pretty,” said Connie.

Max got the spelling and started typing. “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned her to me before. But, I’d love to talk to someone like that.”

“I should mention if you wind up working out with her, she’s a bit pricey,” said Connie. “She works with a lot of big names like Tiffany Glass and my daughter Cyrene.”

“Cyrene Carlyle is your daughter?” Max started his shoulder presses. “Never mind. Stupid question. Of course she is. I just never made the connection. Did you have her really young?”

Connie smirked just as the door opened admitting Arwen and Emily. “You know, when a shirtless young man suggests I’m not old enough to have a daughter Cyrene’s age, he’s usually after something.”

“Have you two been playing poker?” Arwen asked, looking Max over. “If I’d known, I would have worn more layers.”

“We haven’t been, but I hope you’ll call me the next time you play,” said Connie. “An arrest like that could really restart an aging starlet’s career and get me some of that sweet Next Top Model money when that bitch Janice finally unlatches her death-grip on the job.”

“So, how was Paris?” Emily asked.

“Quick question before you answer that with some anatomical description of my friend’s father that I will never be able to unhear, please.” said Max. When Connie indicated he should continue, he asked, “Do you dance, Connie?”

“Ballet lessons on and off since I was five and a lot of other classes at the gym. Why?” Connie answer.

“Oh. You might dance too much then,” said Max. “Emily said we should partner up for Pilar’s class, but I was thinking I’d get a head start on her while her ankle heals.”

“Max, you’re not supposed to become a better dancer than me,” Emily mock-whinged.

“Your toes will thank me,” said Max.

“When is it?” Connie asked.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays from five until Pilar decides to go home,” said Max.

“Which might not happen so often anymore,” pointed out Arwen. “She was at breakfast today.”

“Of course she was, dear. You don’t think they went to a wedding in Montana together to talk about...” she paused. “Max, what’s a funny thing about construction?”

“Uh ... zoning variances?” Max offered.

“Good enough,” Connie shrugged. “They didn’t go to a wedding in Montana together to talk about zoning variances.”

“So, do you want to help your joke writer learn to cha-cha?” asked Max.

“I have a zumba class uptown Thursdays at six,” said Connie. “But, I suppose I could skip it for a few weeks. This sounds more fun.”

“Cool. I get to dance with all the pretty girls.” Max rose and wiped off the seat of his machine.

“Are you counting me among the pretty girls, Max?” Arwen asked. “We usually switch partners throughout the dance.”

“I’m going to pretend I knew that,” Max got down on the mat to do fucking crunches. “I look forward to dancing with you, Arwen.”

“I’ll wear boots the first couple times just in case,” said Arwen.

Max focused on his workout, letting the banter roll around him. Connie spoke in some detail about her trip to the City of Lights. Emily and Arwen agreed that they’d both like to see Paris. Connie cheerfully suggested that, if they didn’t mind sleeping with Nick’s father, he was still there for a couple more days and Nick might be willing to fly them out.

In the elevator, Arwen asked Max, “Is there something going on with you and Connie?”

Max pat-dried his forehead with his towel. “You mean the quirky, intergenerational friendship a la Harold and Maude?”

“Kind of an extreme example, but okay,” said Arwen. “You know she’s seeing Nick’s father. Right?”

“I have ears,” Max pointed to one of them as they got out of the elevator. “I know in excruciating detail that she’s seeing Eddie. And I’m seeing Paige. I don’t think she’d let either fact stop her if she were actually interested in me.”

“Would you let it stop you?” Arwen asked as they passed into the residential wing.

Max shook his head. “Connie is like super-dangerous double black diamond sexy. I’m like bunny slope ready. I’d probably wind up in traction.”

“Does Paige know you think she’s only bunny slope sexy?” Arwen teased.

“I don’t actually,” said Max. “Paige is more woman than I can manage on my own and she and I both know it. I just hold on and pray when I go over the moguls and try to up my game fast enough to keep up with her.”

“Moguls?”

“Did I torture the skiing metaphor too far?” Max asked.

“A little, yeah,” admitted Arwen. “I’ve never been skiing.”

“Me neither, but Brownfield Mills is surrounded with ski slopes. I picked up the lingo,” said Max.

“Maybe I should sleep with her,” said Arwen.

“I hope you mean Connie,” said Max. “If you’re talking about Paige ... actually, we’re good there too. Knock yourself out.”

Arwen paused at her door. “You know, I have a hard time telling if you’re joking or serious sometimes.”

Max shook his head. “About Connie? I don’t see why not. She looks like a movie star, but at her core, she’s pure rock and roll. She might break your heart, but she’d give you a master class on the way there. Connie knows things.”

Arwen nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I’ve talked to you about this kind of thing enough that it’s not weird anymore?”

“Just another day in the life of the loft,” said Max. “Unless you were genuinely asking me about Paige, in which case I’d need about an hour in my bunk to discard all the smart-ass answers and actually think about it. But, my initial thought is ‘better you than Harold.’”

“Who’s Harold?”

“Remember I told you Paige was too much woman for me?” Max smirked. “Howard is the overflow channel into which her bountiful womanhood slops when it overflows this poor, flawed vessel.”

“You’re cute when you get all metaphorical,” said Arwen. “And when you work out without a shirt.”

“And apparently safe to flirt with,” Max smirked.

Arwen opened her apartment door and slipped inside. “Nobody’s really safe these days, Max.”

When Max stepped into his own apartment, he could hear the shower running. He stuck his head into the bathroom. “Are you going to be long in there? I’m supposed to be in the weekly meeting in like twenty minutes.”

Paige opened the shower door and gave him a sultry smile. “I could be. Come wash my back?”

“That’s not going to make me on time for my meeting. Is it?” Max asked.

“Probably not,” said Paige.

Max arrived nearly a half hour late for his meeting. Nick waved him to his seat. “Hey. We were about to send a search party.”

“Wouldn’t have to search too far,” said Simon. “Paige spent the night.”

“Is it ‘talk about each other’s love lives’ time, Simon?” Max asked. “Your glass house has some pretty thin walls.”

Simon held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just saying - if we can be late for this meeting because we’ve got company, I’m all for it.”

“We should probably move the weekly meeting to later in the day anyway. You weren’t the only one who was late.” Nick glanced at Dennis, then back at Max. “We were just going around telling what our charities are and giving a quick description of them. Have you got one yet?”

“I do,” Max sat down. “I’m looking at Black Girls Code. It helps black girls code.”

“I see one third of why you would pick them,” said Simon.

“I’m not going to give money to a group called White Guys Code. Am I?” asked Max. “Diversity in tech is a real problem and I’ve been seeing it first-hand. For two of the jobs I’m trying to fill, one hundred percent of the candidates are male and three quarters are white.”

Nick looked to Ainsley, who said, “You’ll want to explore whether they have the capacity to spend a million dollars effectively. If they don’t, we can include conditions that require them to seek the expertise they need.”

“Sounds good,” said Max.

“Great. Tanvi will send out minutes at the end of the meeting. You can review everyone else’s charity then and ask questions there. All right?” Nick asked. After Max nodded, he asked, “What’s the next agenda item?”

“Spitballing the Pangaria project,” said Tanvi.

“Ah, good. Fun.” Nick clapped his hands. “Blank slate. The project is ‘publish Pangaria as a vehicle for exploring real-world issues.’ Some time this week, I’m going to hire a project manager for this. I can handle exactly one week of being in charge before my ego goes supernova and I start demanding no one fuck with my obviously brilliant vision. So, whoever the best candidate is, they’re starting Monday. Whatever we figure out today will be on their desk when they get here. What do we want to tell them?”

“Are we stuck with ‘Pangaria’ as the name of the world?” Lev asked. “It sounds inadvertently derivative.”

“I will point out that I went there way before WoW, but I agree. The world needs a different name,” said Nick.

“Agile process,” said Max. “Create content every two weeks. Get it in front of playtesters. Put out a beta. If we do something nobody likes, we should find out as close to immediately as possible, not spend a year building on top of it.”

“We should have playtesters,” said Simon.

“That would certainly make my suggestion easier to implement as it involves playtesters,” said Max.

“We should have them here in the loft,” said Simon. “Dungeon masters, players - real-time, in-person feedback, not just something we put out on the Internet for a big beta group and then get nothing but a forum full of fourteen year-old edgelords trying to out-troll each other.”

“The loft isn’t exactly outsider-friendly and security would be a nightmare,” Nick pointed out. “We should find some external space if we’re going to do that.”

“Point of terminology,” said Simon. “Is ‘the loft’ just the fourth floor or is it the whole building? If it includes these offices and they’re not outsider-friendly, how are we ever going to hire anyone?”

“Asks the king of ‘outsider unfriendly,’” Commented Arwen.

“Multiple good points,” said Nick. “I’ve been using the term ‘the loft’ kind of vaguely. When Colin lived here, it was probably the fourth floor and the roof. I think we should use it to mean the whole building now. So say we all?”

“So say we all,” said nearly everyone except Emily, who said, “Aye,” then, “Sorry. I’m missing something with that. Aren’t I?”

“Battlestar Galactica,” said Dennis.

“I’ve seen that one!” said Emily. “They used to show it on really late night TV in Sydney.”

“The old one or the new one?” asked Arwen.

“There were two? Shit.” said Emily. “I’m really never going to catch up with all this. Am I?”

“No,” said Tanvi. “I can’t entirely and catching up is part of my job description.”

“You’ll just have to stick around long enough for all the new references,” said Nick. “Lev did.”

“I still don’t understand half the shit you guys say sometimes,” said Lev. “I just figured it was because I was foreign.”

“I don’t get a lot of it either,” said Simon. “Being a nerd is a full-time job and I have math to learn.”

“I don’t have time to be a nerd. I have math to learn.” echoed Max.

“I mean a cultural nerd,” said Simon. “Just the sheer wall of oblique references and inside jokes you secret handshake motherfuckers build to make the group completely impenetrable so that you don’t let in anybody who spent their time getting a life, you could give it a rest now that you’re all getting laid.”