Chapter 13
was still reeling from Bryan’s confession when Dean’s wild friend called me.
Bryan had just finished telling me how he wasn’t the type to fall for someone easily, but he’d known I was different for years. I did the math–back then, I was on the verge of graduating with my PhD, stuck as my advisor’s minion and desperately scrambling for a decent job.
At those work dinners, I’d get teased relentlessly, even hit with crude jokes. I always kept my cool, but under all that “modern” civility, the old boys‘ club was alive and well. Women were just another course to be picked apart–something to make the guys laugh.
After the drinks and fake laughter, I played chauffeur, calling cars for every big shot. Bryan was there too, trailing after his uncle–the real VIP–which meant he barely drank and didn’t need me fussing over him.
He saw me hunched over by the curb, throwing up, cursing everyone out in my hometown slang. When I looked up, he was right there. I was mortified, but figured he couldn’t understand a word I’d said. I put on my best fake smile. “Bryan, you’re still here?”
But of course, Bryan had understood everything. Every curse, every cringey, dramatic line.
He just grinned and said he was out looking at the stars.
I glanced up; all I saw were streetlights. I figured he was just being weird. But hey, if your boss says there are stars, then there are stars.
Later, Bryan told me the look I gave him screamed “idiot,” but my words were pure sugar.”
After that night, we ran into each other a few more times. Sometimes I’d already gotten what I wanted; sometimes I was still chasing it. No matter how innocent I tried to look, he could always see the ambition in my eyes.
Before he could ever work up the nerve to ask for my number, he heard through the grapevine I was after Dean.
After Bryan finished telling me all this, I stared at him. “Wait, you like me?“}
He gave me a helpless, Jopsided smile. “Didn’t you already know?”
“You kept your distance because you didn’t want to get involved with me,” I teased.
Guilty as charged.2
I rubbed my nose and asked, “So, what about your fiancée?“?
He looked surprised, then handed me his phone. “No idea where you heard that rumor. Check for yourself.”
I barely glanced at his messages–mostly just checked his bank balance. Then I decided, okay, maybe we could give this a try.
Bryan said, “I haven’t dated in years, so you’ll have to be patient with me. Don’t feel pressured–it’s not you. I just… haven’t met anyone else who caught my interest.“) He didn’t finish, because I grabbed his tie and kissed him.§
For once, he actually looked flustered, his ears turning bright red. There’s something about watching a usually put–together guy go pink–it’s a million times better than a blushing college kid.2
And yes, the tie was the one I’d picked out for him.2
The next day, I called Dean’s friend back.
He said, “Marian, Dean broke his leg. He’s in the hospital.”
He actually got my name right this time, sounding almost nervous.
Honestly, I couldn’t even remember his name. I told him, “You should probably call Erica. Dean and I don’t exactly live in the same world.”
There was a pause on the other end.
Then he told me Dean’s leg had been broken by someone Erica’s sugar daddy sent. Erica wanted to marry Dean.
In their crowd, marriage and having a sugar daddy didn’t always clash. But sometimes, the sugar daddy or the husband would care.
Erica was just unlucky–hers both cared &
The sugar daddy was from some big family, but wouldn’t let her get married. Dean had girls all around him, but wouldn’t let her have a sugar daddy. Now that his leg was broken, Dean lost every decent gig he had.
