Page 81 of Things We Fake
“I can fully understand that. What did you do?”
“I freaked out and ran, except I was in heels, so I tripped over a barstool and went down, taking a whole table of desserts with me. And while I was on the floor, dying of shame, the bald guy—who was still laughing by the way—bought me a drink.”
I leaned back in my chair to give my sore stomach muscles a rest. “I would have paid to see that.”
“My dignity never recovered.” She shook her head. “Now it’s your turn. I want to hear your most embarrassing bar story.”
I scratched the back of my neck, digging through my memories. This had to be funny, but not too embarrassing. “Well, this is not as bad as yours, but it’s decent. A few years ago, I was at this place in Denver for a friend’s birthday. There was a mechanical bull, and everyone was taking turns trying to ride it. I decided I could do better than the ten seconds everyone else was managing. As it turns out, I could not.”
Sue was already laughing. “What happened?”
“I got thrown off in about three seconds flat. And then, to add insult to injury, the bull’s controls glitched and it started spinning like crazy. I was flat on my back, watching it go berserk, while everyone else was crying from laughter.”
She clutched her stomach, trying to breathe. “Please tell me there’s video of this.”
I grimaced. “Unfortunately, there is. And my so-called friends have it saved on every cloud service imaginable. I told you, this is what guys do.”
Sue raised her beer, laughing. “To friends and tequila.”
I mirrored her gesture. “I’ll drink to that.”
She took a slow sip of beer, her smile softening. “So, how exactly did you get from that to running your own tech empire?”
I smiled, chagrined. So much for forgetting my fortune.
“It’s not an empire. This was always my dream. I think education is the key to happiness, to a better world. You of all people understand that.”
She gave me a silent toast, eyes fixed on me with that quiet, focused kind of interest that made you want to keep talking.
So I did. “My parents weren’t rich, and raising three kids is not cheap, so when I was a kid they couldn’t fulfill all my wishes. I wanted lots of books they couldn’t buy, so I spent a lot of my days in the public library. An institution I am most grateful for. I taught myself how to use a computer from books, way before I had access to a real computer. And when I discovered internet cafés... It was the happiest day of my life.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I didn’t get my own computer until I was sixteen. Built it from scrap parts I begged off a repair guy who took pity on me.” I smiled fondly at that memory. “I guess that’s where it started. I wanted tomake information accessible—level the field, you know?”
Her smile deepened, but her voice stayed light. “That’s ridiculously noble. So what you’re doing now—Omega, the education software... It’s not just about profit?”
“Not really. We do license stuff, obviously. I’m not a saint. But the real goal is to educate people. And to reach the kids who don’t have resources, who think they’re stupid or stuck just because no one’s ever shown them what’s possible. I genuinely believe that smarter people are kinder people. And kinder people make the world a better place.”
She didn’t say anything right away, just looked at me in that way she sometimes did—like she was trying to solve a puzzle without quite wanting the answer.
“Thank you for telling me that,” she said at last, her voice soft. “I don’t think most people realize how rare that kind of drive is.”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I hadn’t told her all that to play some sort of hero. I didn’t like the spotlight.
“I didn’t do anything special,” I said. “I just didn’t want to end up stuck, like a lot of people I grew up with.”
She smiled softly. “I bet those people need a telescope to see you now.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sue
By the time we left The Drunken Rat, the New York night had deepened into a crisp chill, the kind that clung to your skin and carried the scent of rain on the pavement. The city felt alive, buzzing with its usual electric energy—neon lights blinking in shop windows, traffic honking lazily down the street, and groups of people spilling out of bars in messy, laughing clusters.
Cam fell into step beside me, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. “So, where are you taking me next, honey?”
I grinned, tipping my head toward the subway entrance. “There’s a karaoke bar a few blocks from here. It’s got an old-school jukebox and an audience that’s usually drunk enough to cheer no matter how bad you sound.”
