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Hearing it spelled out is oddlycompelling.
"It's no worse than dating the Wall Streetdouche.”
She grabs my wrists and pushes my handsaway.
I frown. “Even if you try, it won’tlast.”
“You don’t know everything about me.” She tries to squeeze past me. She might be a foot shorter than me, but she’sfierce.
I shift to trap her, unsure of how this morning has devolved soquickly.
From the second I realized Daisy would be the perfect girlfriend, I thought my problems would besolved.
Now it seems as if there’s a bigger problem—my friend is pulling away from me at warpspeed.
“I know what makes you tick. I know why you’re as protective of Lil as if she were your own kid. I know you can size someone up before they even open their mouth. That any man should be terrified to sit across a negotiating table from you, and anyone you invite into your life is so goddamn lucky.” Her eyes go shiny at my words, and it takes me a second to regain my composure. “I don’t get why this is a big deal. Go to the gala with me. Act like I’ve seen you naked. A lot of women would kill to be my pretendgirlfriend.”
Her gaze drags down me, and awareness has the hairs on my arms lifting even before she leans in, close enough I get a hit from her jasmineshampoo.
“Then invite one ofthem.”
She shoves past me and heads back down the hall, her wedge sandals clicking on the floor and sounding like something I'm not used to hearing, especially from my bestfriend.
Rejection.
3
Monday isthe most important day in my recent memory, but after I get up, shower, and dress for my meeting with Richard Vane, there’s nothing toeat.
“Are we all out of bagels?” I call from the kitchen of my two-bedroomapartment.
Lil sticks her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth, wet hair hanging around her head and a fluffy purple towel fastened around her body. “Rtkmthlbry.”
“Comeagain?”
She disappears, returning a moment later without the toothbrush and dragging her fingers through shoulder-length hair darkened to chocolate by the shower. “I took them to the library to study. They’re a gooddinner."
I grab my phone off the kitchen counter and head for the door of theapartment.
"Hey,” she calls after me. “I wanted to talk to you aboutsomething.”
I glance at the time. I need to get to the office. “What’sup?”
“How would I go about getting a small bank loan? I mean, I know how banks work and inflation and monetary policy,” she goes on as if she’s ticking off shades of toenail polish, “but I mean getting an actual person at the financial institution to approve my actual request for cash.” She folds her arms over thetowel.
“Tell me how much you need.” I pull out my phone and tap a fewkeystrokes.
“Thirty thousanddollars.”
Her young, makeup-free face scrunches, and I blink at her. “Lil, in what world is thatsmall?”
“It is compared to the GDP of even the most emergent national economy.” Defensiveness accompanies the foldedarms.
“What do you need thirty grandfor?”
“My scholarship for the fall is gone.” The words are so low and miserable I barely make themout.
Horror slams into me. “How? You crushed your finals in April. You have one of the best GPAs in yourprogram.”
