The Art of the Hustle (Complete)

Chapter Twenty-Five

My bags were packed and I was ready to go. I took one final look around my apartment to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything.  

"Are you ready?" Ashley asked. 

"I think so." 

"Come on then, the cab is waiting for us." 

We both had three days off together so we decided to take a trip to Whistler. We took the Greyhound up and booked the cheapest hotel we could find. The room seemed nice on the website. It was right in the village and it had a hot tub in the room.  

It was a two-hour long bus ride, so we had a lot of time to talk. 

"We should have rented a vehicle," I mentioned, while I adjusted my position in the uncomfortable Greyhound seat. 

"Yeah, but that would cost a lot more money. Besides, taking the bus isn't that bad." 

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I paused for a moment and chose my next words very carefully. "If you're so cautious about money, how are you able to afford to live in such a nice apartment by yourself?"  

"It isn't that expensive." 

"Do you mind me asking how much you pay for rent?" 

"I don't pay that much, maybe $500 a month." 

"What do you mean 'maybe $500 a month'? You don't know how much you pay?" 

"Fine, I pay $500," she said, noticeably annoyed. She clearly did not want to talk about it, but why? My curiosity got the better of me as I sat there trying to decide whether I should continue to push or just let it go. A moment went by and then I said, "$500 a month. That's cheap." 

"Yeah," she replied.  

Another moment went by, and I decided to press even further. 

"So how did you find a place for $500 a month?"  

"Look, you obviously don't take hints very well," she snapped back at me. 

"Why are you getting so angry? What is the big mystery about your rent?" 

"My parents own the place, okay." 

"Okay, so what's the big deal?" 

"I didn't want you to get the wrong impression of me, like I'm some spoiled rich kid. Especially since you're working really hard to make it on your own and here I'm getting handouts from my parents." 

"We're taking the Greyhound to Whistler, I would hardly call you rich." 

She didn't respond for a while, but I could tell something was on her mind. "I didn't want to take my car," she said, under her breath. 

"Excuse me, your car? Since when do you have a car?" 

"It was a graduation present." 

"Wow, that must have been nice, my parents didn't even show up to my graduation." 

"I'm sorry to hear that." 

"Don't be, I didn't invite them. So what kind of car did you get?" 

"Why does that matter?" 

"I'm just curious." 

She left me hanging for a bit, but then finally told me. "It's an X5." 

"X5? What is that?" 

"It's a BMW." 

"You own a BMW, a BMW X5 mind you, meanwhile we're sitting on the Greyhound like a couple of chumps. What year is your BMW X5?"