Page 14 of Brenna, Brat

“Are you going to start extrapolating?” Campbell asked me, and I decided that I was.

“You’re…”I studied him.“Twenty-six?Twenty-seven?”

“Eight.”

“And you’re already managing a big part of your father’s company,” I pointed out. “I bet it caused a lot of resentment when you and your sister started working there, and that’s why you said it was hard to be his son.”

“It may have caused some resentment. Why is that important now?”

“It sounds like your sister handled it by acting mean. That’s a valid response to criticism,” I defended her. “Some people say that it’s bratty, but it’s a very natural way to deal with others when they’re stupid and rude.”

“I don’t act like that,” he stated, and I realized that I’d gone a little off-track.

“No, you go the other way and try even harder to be genial because you want to draw everybody in and make connections. It’s like how you were chatting up the hostess and then she gave us the best table.”

“Was I chatting her up?” He seemed surprised. “I only remember saying hello.”

“You don’t like it when people don’t like you,” I continued, “but that’s part of being a boss.”

“You’re…”He studied me, too.“Twenty-two?Twenty-three?”

“Four.Why?”

“Because you’re pretty young to know everything.” He grinned. “You’re also correct, slightly. I’d rather get along with people, but I don’t have a problem with cracking down. You should see me when they’re slow getting around the bases or throwing meatballs in our softball games. I’m screaming at them from the dugout, swearing and throwing shit around…”

“Right,” I said, “and you’re also attacking the umpire and fighting spectators in the stands.”

“I’ve been ejected more times than I can count,” he told me. “Do you really think we have umps and spectators?” He laughed and I did, too, before I knew I was doing it.

The meal went by very quickly even though the service was poor. When I was a waitress, I refilled glasses a lot more promptly and I certainly wouldn’t have smiled at only my male customer. But Campbell seemed pleased enough, and I noticed that he left a very large tip. He walked me out to my car, too.

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. “You were right and that is a good restaurant.”

“We could go back some time,” he suggested, but he didn’t say anything else about wanting to see me, and he didn’t try to set firmer plans.

Not that I was bothered by those things. “Sure,” I said offhandedly, to demonstrate my lack of concern. “Also, thank you very much for the boots. You really didn’t have to buy me new ones.”

“I think I did,” he responded. “I felt responsible for bringing you into that nest of crime.”

“The suburban ice rink filled with kids having birthday parties did seem dangerous. After all, you left with a brain injury.”

He laughed. “See you around, Brenna,” he told me, and there was nothing really left for me to add to that. It wasn’t “see youlater,” “I’ll be in touch,” or a hug. Not even a freaking handshake. I got in quickly and drove back to my apartment, where I turned on every light.

“I did have fun,” I explained to Cleo. “It’s a great restaurant and he picked up the tab.”

I knew what she would have said, if she’d had a mouth.

“Ok, it wasn’t just that the food was good or that I was glad not to pay,” I admitted. “I did like to being with him. He’s fun to talk to. We have interesting conversations and he doesn’t get all touchy about things. You know how people do that,” I reminded her. “They’re always jumping to the conclusion that you’re trying to be rude and bratty. Campbell mostly laughs or he understands the points I’m trying to make. He didn’t get upset when I started talking about nepotism, for example. He had obviously thought about it, too.”

I picked up the length of silk crepe I’d purchased for the New Year’s dress that I hadn’t made, studying it before I draped it over her.

“Can you imagine how he must have been in school? I bet he had a human chain attached to him wherever he went because he’s such a charmer. He enjoys being friendly…oh,” I finished flatly, because I suddenly understood something. How dumb was I? I’d said it myself, after all: I’d been the one who’d talked about how Campbell wanted people to like him. He wanted to be friends with everyone, that was what I’d told him.

And then he’d met me, Brenna. I was the Brat with a capital B, as my sisters often called me, and I must have seemed like a personal challenge to him. That was why he’d asked me to go ice skating and out to eat. It was because he wanted people to like him and I didn’t like anyone; he’d made the effort with me because he had that drive in him, as if he had something to prove.

“I get it,” I said. “It all makes a lot more sense. I couldn’t understand why he kept texting and stuff, but now I do.”

Cleo seemed to agree that I was right.

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