Page 17 of For the Boys
“I need your help.”
“With?”
Brent groaned. He was really going to make him say it. “I need your help with Berkley.”
“Back to that, are we?” Mitch sighed when Brent nodded. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”
“I want to arrange some sort of meeting with her.”
“So what do you need from me?”
“I need you to do some digging, maybe even reach out to her friends. See if there’s some event coming up or some reason to stage a run-in.”
Mitch rubbed his hand over his face, thinking. “Okay, look. You know I’m all for going full send when it comes to something I’m passionate about. But I gotta ask…why don’t you just ask her out on a date? Or plan a group hang? Invite her to a game, or the loft?”
Brent had already considered these options and discarded them. “Because I don’t want her to think I’m obsessed with her.”
“But, Jean, you kind of are obsessed with her right now.”
Unsure how to explain his thought process to Mitch, Brent stared at his hands. How did he tell this guy who was so confident in himself, so sure of who he was, that he was insecure? That he was afraid Berkley wouldn’t be interested? He couldn’t do that without sounding like a total pansy, so he said, “I know. I just think creating a situation where I can casually run into her is better for everyone than straight up asking if she wants to hang out.”
Mitch held up his hands in surrender. “That makes zero sense to me, but I’ve got your back, bro. I’ll do what you need me to. I’m just saying, what if this girl isn’t the type to be wowed by those big displays you’re so fond of?”
She has to be, Brent thought.They’re all I’ve got.
Hoping to glean some useful information that would help him set his plan in motion, Brent asked Mitch to stalk Berkley’s Instagram stories, as well as those of her friends. Brent figured it was better Mitch do the cyber-sleuthing because the girls were more likely to overlook Mitch’s name in their story views. Mitch, true to his word, agreed to conduct recon for Brent, although he did make it clear he didn’t agree with Brent on the matter.
It was a few weeks later when Mitch’s snooping paid off.
Berkley’s friend Lexie, one of the tall brunettes who, if her Instagram posts and stories were any indication, Berkley was always with, posted a story. It was a shot of her and Berkley posing in front of a giant mirror at Nordstrom, shopping bags piled around their feet. The caption read: “Getting all geared up for the little one’s 25th birthday!”
“Mitch, you’re truly the best!” Brent yelled into the phone. “I’m going to message Lexie and have her help me from here.”
“Oh God. What are you planning now?”
“Nothing much. A bar. Dancing. Lots of alcohol.”
“Oh,” Mitch said, voice conveying his surprise. “That seems...normal.”
“A surprise party.”
Mitch snorted. “Ahh, there he is. The Brent Jean we know and love. Good luck, bro. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do, man. I appreciate you.”
Brent hung up the phone and tapped into Instagram.
He wrote out several messages, each one more awkward than the last. After typing and deleting for what felt like ages, he settled on one and sent it to Lexie.
@Brent22Jean:Hey Lexie! Brent Jean here. I have a weird proposition for you.
@LexieMonroe:Lol. Hello, Brent Jean. What can I do for you?
@Brent22Jean:Well, I couldn’t help but notice from your stories that a certain friend of yours has a birthday coming up. I’m not going to beat around the bush here. I’ve been dying to meet her, and I’d love to do something special for her for her birthday.
@LexieMonroe:Special? Such as?
@Brent22Jean:I’d like to rent out The Backdoor and throw her a surprise party. With your help, of course.
