That's fair. The building is a dump. The five-star reviews all say you're the most honest mechanic in Seattle. Those people are lying to make me feel better. Viven laughed, and it was a good sound, genuine.
Do you always deflect compliments? Do you always research people before having coffee with them? Always. She wrapped her hands around her own mug. It's a habit.
Know your opponent before you sit down at the table. Is that what I am? An opponent? I don't know what you are yet. Fair enough.
The waitress returned with two massive burgers and a mountain of fries. They ate in comfortable silence for a while. The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled with small talk or performance. "So," Ethan said eventually, wiping grease from his fingers. "Investment banker? " Vivian paused midbite.
"What? That's what Sarah told me. You're an investment banker. " "I'm not an investment banker. " "Then what are you? " She sat down her burger very carefully. I run a company. What kind of company?
Manufacturing industrial components mostly. Some tech development. We operate in 17 countries and employ about 40,000 people. Ethan stared at her. You're joking.
I don't joke about my company. Hart Industries, he said slowly, pieces clicking into place. You're that Vivian Hart. Guilty. Jesus Christ.
Is that a problem? Ethan sat back in the booth trying to process this. Viven Hart, he'd seen her name in the news, on business websites, probably on the side of buildings he'd driven past without paying attention. She wasn't just successful. She was stratospherically, impossibly, almost obscenely successful, and he'd made her hold an umbrella while he fixed her car in the rain.
"I think I might throw up," he said. Vivien's expression shuddered immediately. I see. No, not because he ran a hand through his hair. I just fixed a billionaire's car and charged her nothing.
My accountant would kill me. She relaxed slightly. You don't have an accountant. How do you know? Because you operate a three-star repair shop in Georgetown and your truck's check engine light has been on for at least a month.
3 weeks. Even worse. They looked at each other across the table and then they were both laughing. Real helpless laughter that made the waitress glance over with a look of deep concern. This is insane.
Ethan managed finally. Completely insane, Vivien agreed. You know I showed up to meet you in muddy jeans because I spent an hour fixing your car, right? Yes. And you know I own a failing repair shop and I'm about 3 months away from foreclosure, right?