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“Jail!”, she exclaims, an expression of such glee on her face that Jonah can’t help but feel a little intimidated.
“Nah, I can’t go to jail, I’m a councilman.”
She stares him down with a scowl, turning “a little intimidated” to “looking like her mother”. Then, seeing as he hesitates, reaches for his Aurora figurine, but Jonah snatches it right from under Emma’s hand and clutches it to his chest protectively.
“Not in this house you ain’t. Now jail,” she points to a small, lonely, sad square, and points until he firmly puts the princess there. She may be incarcerated, but he will not be uncareful enough as to just toss her in prison, undoubtedly to be toppled over on the floor because of his indignation.
As Emma’s next two dice rolls play out, he contemplates life, stopping only when she lands on his property — the Lion King, scoring him a whopping 1400 dollars. He cocks his head to the side, satisfied with life beyond belief.
“I…” for once, Emma is at a loss for words, which happens approximately once a never. She folds her arms and crosses her eyebrows as she tries to find the catch, recounts her steps. Jonah, who genuinely wanted to be magnanimous about his (admittedly, unexpected to him too) financial gain, breaks in a wide, shit-eating grin.
“Not gonna lie, I might just want to shake your hand.”
He nods. Valid. After all, how often does fate forces anyone to stop on the last two-three squares?
“I would be honored,” he gets up from the floor, acting as if he only wants to stretch. And he does, at first. Then, blessed by an idea mid-bend, he turns to Amy and Carter, who spend their New Year's evening more peacefully, playing with a toy Carter got for Christmas. Amy looks at him, intrigued; Carter smiles; Parker, who’s sitting on the couch Emma leans her back against, glances up from a book. Jonah bows to each of them, thanking everyone profusely.
“And I wouldn’t be able to do it without you, Emma. So thank you.”
“I hate you. You haven’t won yet, you know that?”
He sits down, delighting in his performance and her annoyance, and nods curtly. “Yes. I went to business scho-” Unbelievably quick, Emma reaches behind her, grabs a couch pillow from under her brother and with a good, wide swing of her arm smacks him on the head.
“You know what? Fair. Let’s continue.”
“Mm-hm,” she tuts loudly as he grabs the dice. “Fresh out of jail and yet so rich… a politician at its finest.”
“Who? Maybe you mean him?”, he points at Parker. “Don’t attack my man like that. And you said it yourself, in this house we’re apolitical.”
Two sets of eyes look up at him at that, another one he can’t see but is able to feel just as fine. He puts his hands up. “Bad phrasing, I agree and apologize.”
“Just throw the dice, Jonah.” He does. “And prepare to lose.”
He doesn’t exactly lose, though. What follows is a sparring as unnecessarily heated as the planet Earth. Properties bought, houses and hotels erected, dice are thrown — as well as shade, paper money and on two separate occasions — a slipper aimed at each of them. Finally, forty minutes into this leg of the capitalist tour, Emma’s Dumbo figurine lands on his Dumbo property, earning the councilman Jonah Simms 130 monopoly dollars, which is ten more than he needs to become a millionaire. So he gives the ten back to the people (sends a bill flying in the air. it lands under the couch), recounts his money. There’s no need for that — they have been at each other’s throats about stealing, following another’s every move to not allow cheating. During one such occasion, Amy mumbled “As if you two softies could cheat”, at which they bristled, but secretly agreed to — they are both honest people. Nevertheless, Jonah likes winning, and even more than simple winning he likes winning with no real-life monetary risk, so he gloats.
“Who’s incompetent now?”
She quirks her brow, not understanding what he means at all, but then tries again under his expectant look. And gets it.
“Oh my god, Jonah. You literally are insane, it’s been ten actual years!”
He shrugs. “What can I say, I have a good memory.”
Emma taps her fingers on the hard cardboard of the map and moves to look behind him. “Mom? Did you know about the pettiness gene before having a child with him?”
Jonah turns to Amy with a smile of a winner, keeping the thought at least that one hasn’t got a loser gene to himself. Amy ruffles Carter’s hair, sighs and tells her daughter, “Honey, what did that romcom you like said? You love not because, but despite.”
“Okay. Okay, well, and you… you’re…”
Pretty is the only word that comes to his mind. Synonyms to that if he tries to think harder. Jonah decides to not talk to them and instead comes up to Amy and Carter, taking his son in his arms. The boy is getting more droopy-eyed by the second, and as much as he is in love with his toys, New Year’s is not important enough to stay up long past his bedtime.
“Very eloquent,” Emma says.
“He learned that,” Amy folds her palms together, referencing that awful video featuring Jonah during his college days, “in business school.”
“That’s just bullying,” he gets up again and goes back to the couch. “I’m gonna sit with my friend Parker over here. Do you mind?”
Parker shakes his head silently.
“As you wish,” Amy makes another gesture, “Iceman.”
He opens his mouth to protest right when Carter decides to surrender to sleep and snuggle into his neck. The trajectory of his thoughts derails, then changes from ‘must retaliate’ to ‘let’s grin because Amy remembers random shit’.
Emma barges in his peaceful thoughts. “Who do you think will clean after you?”
“Not me. Winners don’t clean.”
“Mhm, they get Latina women to do it for them.”
Preposterous. Deeply rooted in real life, but preposterous.
“Shhh, your brother is asleep.”