Page 19 of Escape Girl

I clinked back and took a sip. “Yes, thanks.” I paused. “I’m considering four different offers right now,” I admitted.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, making me laugh. “Do you know which one you’re going to take?”

Three days ago, I would have said a confident yes: I’d be taking the partner-track position with Coonley in New York. By all rankings, it was the number-one IP firm in the country, so it was the best next step for me.

But today, sitting in the sun and eating tacos with Bobby in San Francisco…faraway New York sounded very unappealing.

“There’s no rush to make a decision,” I said lightly.

“Not to inundate you with questions,” he said. “But why is your last name Austin?”

Relieved at the subject change, I explained my parents’ concern and the hope for anonymity and distance when I left for college.

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. “Looking back on it now, are you glad you used a different name?”

I dug into the enormous burrito with a fork. “Most of the time, yes, I’m grateful for the different name.”

“When aren’t you?”

The burrito’s green sauce was tangy, spicy, and so delicious I made an appreciativehmmmas I swallowed.

Bobby’s eyelids closed a centimeter when he heard my throaty noise. He looked at my lips and shifted in his seat. A zigzag of excitement shot up my spine. Thatthud, Thud, THUDhadn’t gone anywhere. In fact, it had grown stronger today as we’d talked about real things.

Might as well keep it going.

“Dating,” I said matter-of-factly. “The name thing has been difficult while dating.”

Bobby leaned forward, blue eyes sparkling. “Tell me.”

Oh, the stories. “Well, when I first start dating somebody, it’s easy. I’m Emily. Especially when you’re younger, most people don’t introduce themselves with first and last names. Eventually, maybe through social media stuff, the guy would learn my last name was Austin. So, Emily Austin it is. Then a few weeks or months go by, and we’d get a little more serious, and I’d finally confide who my father was, my actual last name.”

“And?” Bobby demanded. “Then what?”

“It’s been horrible,” I said frankly. “Everyone knows Sven Saturn, famous billionaire. Immediately, the guys looked at me differently. I became a stranger in their eyes. I almost felt sorry for a few of them, actually. It’s like I could see what they were thinking: ‘Should I be excited because I’m dating a super-rich girl? What if we got married? Holy shit!’ Or: ‘Dude, it’s gross to even be thinking about her money…but I can’t stop.’”

Bobby mock-shuddered. “Have you done the opposite? Been upfront with someone right away?”

A few times. I nodded. “That scenario is a little better. I’m a pretty good judge of character, so it’s easy to dismiss the guys who are interested in the proximity-to-money angle. But I also don’t want to date someone who worships my father or who is intimidated by my father or who cares inanyway about my father, and I haven’t found that yet.” I laughed a little. “To be fair, it’s probably my fault. My sample size has been small. I don’t often date.”

This was going to make me sound like a snotty bitch, but I said it anyway: “I don’t like all that many people all that much.”

Bobby’s lips twitched, hopefully with humor and not shock. He took a long swallow of beer and picked up a taco with both hands. “Do you like me?” he asked. His tone was casual, but he had stiff shoulders.

“Yes.” I said it immediately and with no hesitation. I could have been coy with an “I don’t know yet” or “We’ll see” kind ofanswer, but it would have been an obvious flirtation, and I was not a good flirt.

His shoulders relaxed. “Good.”

After lunch, we hit two more libraries—the SFPL Main Branch, which I’d visited before, and the Mechanics’ Institute, which I hadn’t. “There’s a thriving chess community here,” Bobby said. “Don’t tell anyone, but I play in the Tuesday Night Marathon tournament sometimes.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to tell anyone?” I asked. “That’s so cool!”

“I agree!” he said quickly. “I guess I just don’t want it to become party fodder. I like having it as something only for me.”

Aw.I loved that. “What else do you do that’s only for you?”

He hesitated but must have been convinced by my wide, interested eyes. “Volunteering. I coach basketball at the Boys & Girls Club. On Fridays, I work at a food bank near the big homeless encampment in the Tenderloin.”

I wanted to pinch him. Or pinch myself. He couldn’t be real. He looked like a surfer, read like an academic, played in a weekly chess tournament, and spent a hefty amount of time doing good deeds. Best of all, he was looking at methatway again. My body temperature had been rising steadily all day, and it had nothing to do with the coffee or salsa.

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