Trust Fund: Chapter 24

“Akiva, I’ve been thinking….” She trailed off in a way that had Akiva suspecting he was not going to love the next few words
HE
reached for his coffee and winced. Old age setting in? He thought about this for a minute, then smiled.
Old he might be at 37, but the aching in his wrists was more likely from his jam session with Deena late last night. He was a fool to think the sudden wrist action wouldn’t catch up with him.
“The problem,” he mused aloud to Libby, who was scrambling eggs, “is that we both play drums. We kinda need someone to mix it up.”
Libby placed a plate of fluffy eggs in front of him.
He tried to dig in eagerly. “Ow!”
“Why is eating eggs painful?”
Her phone buzzed, she ignored it, forehead scrunched in concern.
“My wrists. Anyway, as I was saying, I think you need to learn to play an instrument, Libs. There’s far too much drumming and we need to someone to harmonize us. How does electric guitar sound?”
Her phone buzzed again; she slid it open. “Akiva, I’ve been thinking….” She trailed off in a way that had Akiva suspecting he was not going to love the next few words she uttered.
“Mmm?”
She bit her lip. “I think we need a showroom.” She hurried on before he could protest. “Not a full storefront, but just a room set up in the basement with all the pieces on display, one size of each, so people can come and see our items themselves. When the prices are low, you’re always scared you’re getting garbage — you want to touch it, feel it, before buying. I think it will be a big draw for them.”
As will our home, Akiva thought silently. Everyone will want to see the inside of a Frankel home — people are curious like that.
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