The Upper Hand

“Cleveland. You. Yes. No.” Jameson said levelly just as Becca approached. “I’d go to Cleveland.”

She was a bit shocked. Not Paris. Not Beijing. Not the bottom of the ocean. “Cleveland.” she repeated, obviously confused.

Now Jameson had the upper hand. She threw him a curve earlier and made him feel rediculous. It’s a game, flirting, and now he had the advantage.

“Sure, it’s a hamlet.” he said matter of factly, sipping his beer.

Becca wasn’t sure about where this was going. But she played along. “Sure…I can see that. After all, there’s…...” trailing off intentionally.

“Well, there’s the rock ‘n roll museum, um…architecture…culture, you know. It is Cleveland.”

She was on the ropes, so he continued. “So, Cleveland, with you, there would be beer, yes on the war, no on the religion.”

“You want war,” she said “but not religion?”

“Sure!” Jameson exclaimed. “Listen, I’m taking you because I want things to be fair.”

“Fair?” Becca frowned.

“In love and war.”

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