Page 68 of What I'm Looking For

Hi, it’s Kate. Just got home. I’m changing, and I’ll be at your place in half an hour or so. I haven’t eaten, so maybe we can go out? Okay, I’ll see you soon.

WILL

Kate’s in my bedroom doorway, hands gripping the trim like it’s the only thing keeping the building from falling down. “Why can’t I take you out to dinner? I don’t get it.” Her head drops along with the volume of her voice. “What is the problem with me paying if I’m the one who wants to go out?”

“Kate, I’m trying to be responsible with my money. I think you of all people would understand that.”

Launching herself into my room, she throws her hands in the air and paces, her stride limited by the lack of space. “That’s great. You shouldn’t go over your budget because of me. But why can’t I pay?”

“Because I don’t like living beyond my means.”

She looks like she wants to kick something. “I’m not asking you to do that!”

“Yes, you are.” The words come out on more of a growl than I intended.

“You’re not listening to me.” Her face is a shade of red I’ve never seen before. “I think you’re being pretty sexist.”

“That’s not it.”

“So you wouldn’t be embarrassed if we go out and I pick up the check?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes. That is embarrassing.”

“Well, that’s just stupid.”

“How I feel is stupid?”

“Yes. Don’t you think it is?”

I shake my head. I’m not sure how we got here, but I know that it’s not just about me feeling emasculated by her paying.

She flops on the bed, an arm over her face. “I’m just so hungry right now, and I just want to go somewhere and have someone cook for us both and not have to clean up.” Peeking from under her elbow, she matches words to feeling so truthfully any voice teacher would be proud. “Can’t I choose to spend my money the way I want to?”

I grip the back of my skull with both hands. It’s not her fault I’m missing shifts at the bar because ofRomeo and Julietrehearsals. It’s not her fault she doesn’t fully understand why I’m so adamant about living the way I do. I haven’t told her everything about what happened with my dad.

Scooting closer, I press a thigh against hers. “Let me tell you a story.”

Elbows on knees and eyes on the floor, I force the words out. “When I was little, my dad was obsessed with keeping up with the Joneses. He had to have every new gadget, a flashy car, the biggest house in the neighborhood. He had a decent job, but I guess it wasn’t enough. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that until it was too late. Anyway, I was just a kid. All I knew was that my dad would buy me anything I wanted, which I thought was great.”

Kate sits up. I grab her hand, but I can’t look her in the eye.

“Eventually, my mom found out that on top of the debt he’d built up, my dad had left his sales job to chase one get-rich-quick scheme after the other. He eventually fessed up, but he still called them ‘surefire investments’ and said that if she’d only believe in him, we’d be rolling in dough and she could quit her job.”

An ugly laugh huffs out of me. “Well, it’s lucky she didn’t. When the bank came calling to repossess the cars and then the house, she found out we didn’t really own anything. The only thing we could keep were piles of products that nobody was ever going to buy.”

She hasn’t even tried to say a word, but when I finally meet her eyes, they’re full of sympathy. “Thanks for sharing that with me,” she says softly.

“I want you to understand. This is about my dad and me, not you and me.”

Her stomach grumbles, and she squeezes my hand with both of hers. “Listen, there’s a new burrito place over on Mass Ave. I heard about. It’s not fancy, but it’s supposed to be really good.”

I can’t resist the hopeful and hungry expression on her face. “Sure, let’s check it out. You could borrow Pam’s bike or we could take the motorcycle.”

Kate bounces lightly on the bed. A genuine smile lights up her face as her stomach growls even louder. She jumps to her feet, pulling me up along with her. “Motorcycle, please! You drive, I’ll pay.”

Chapter18

BEEP. Saturday, 9:03 a.m.

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