A knot forms in my belly, hot and not entirely uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s more like longing or approval at seeing a whole family unite to shield one of their own, not because they need to protect their reputation, but simply because they care about the well-being of the person.
I’ve grossly miscalculated things. I can see that now. When Yuna heard about this dinner from Kim and told me the details, I thought I could impress Jo and her family by putting on a Brioni suit and bringing the best ring I could find in the short time frame I had to work with. I was thinking about what Jo said when we first met—about projecting the right image for this encounter. But obviously I’m badly overdressed and didn’t bring everything I need to convince them, because they’re demanding more.
What do I bring to the table…
For a fraction of a second, my family—what the Blackwood name represents—flashes through my mind, but I dismiss it almost immediately. Wealth and influence, yes, but they’re tainted. And the last thing I want is drag Jo into the mess that is my family back home.
So what else is there?
After short consideration, I settle for the main benefit most women who might want to marry me would place in the plus column. “Last time I spoke with my accountant, I was worth about two billion dollars. If you’d like, I can have him provide you with an updated number.”
There. Practical, and should provide them with peace of mind. What parents wouldn’t want to be reassured that their daughter is going to live in material comfort? My bank account proves I’m not a deadbeat and I’m capable of giving Jo the lifestyle she deserves and should become accustomed to.
But Jo doesn’t seem too impressed. She’s just chugging down water. Or perhaps she already knew my net worth, which wouldn’t be a surprise. After all, she’s in Yuna’s circle, and who knows what that girl shares?
The large, muscled man next to Jo scoffs. “That’s just money, ese.”
I almost cock an eyebrow at the tone. Perhaps he’s wealthy, too, although I thought Jo’s family was upper middle class. If it weren’t for the family resemblance, I might’ve assumed he was Jo’s other suitor—that Aaron Korvid guy.
It strikes me again how familiar that name is, and I make a mental note to look him up as soon as I’m done here.
Another man, this one in a suit and a Daffy Duck tie, of all things, says, “Angel’s right. Anybody with a lucky lottery ticket can get it.”
Does he not know you’re more likely to get hit by lightning? Perhaps he knows a lot of extraordinarily lucky people.
“Or earn it yourself.” A woman in a pink dress, seated next to the man who demanded to know what I bring to the table, is giving the previous two speakers a stern look.
“Who cares about money? What else, man?” From the voice, I recognize it’s Hugo who just spoke. Was it not enough for him that I recognized his—and apparently the other men’s—need to cling to the irrational belief that Jo’s still a virgin?
Fine. I’ll give them another plus. “I’m also fairly well connected.”
“So you network really well, so what? I network well too. I network all the time with my customers,” an older man in a Manny’s Tacos shirt says. There’s a comfortably rounded woman next to him in an identical shirt.
Jo buries her head in a guacamole bowl, her fork moving. Her face is cast downward, so I can’t see her expression, much to my annoyance. She’s probably hungry. She’s eating for two. I do wish she’d speak
up on my behalf. But realistically I’ve accepted she won’t, not after what happened at Starbucks…and especially based on what Yuna told me. We’ll have to talk privately after I get her family’s approval.
The man who burst into outrage first at my announcement that I got Jo pregnant sneers, “Everyone likes to brag how they know a guy who knows a guy, but really, they don’t know shi—uh, anything.”
Are they serious? I need to prove I actually know people, too? I refrain from exhaling harshly. I’m here to win them over, not annoy them. Yuna said the family is half the battle, and I agree. If I can convince them, it’ll be easier to convince Jo.
Yuna’s advice flashes through my head. They’re going to want to see you do the right thing, so show them you’re the perfect choice for their darling daughter.
“I’m friends with at least twenty governors, among other people. Does that clarify things for you?” I say.
Mr. Duck Tie shrugs. “Hey, when I write to my congressional rep, she writes me back. So what?”
“Do you have your congressional rep on speed dial?” I ask. “Are you on a first-name basis with her spouse?”
Duck Tie looks away.
“I train the mayor’s wife in the gym,” Angel says dismissively. “You aren’t impressing us much. Anybody can say they know governors. Woohoo. So what? How do we know any of it is true?”
They want proof? I’m not calling a state governor just to make these skeptics happy, but I know a simpler way that I can actually prove it’s true immediately. “My brother owns Z, and I can get you all in through the VIP lane.” The bouncers and security there know me, and they’re used to seeing me show up now and again.
“And have us take one of the VIP lounges on top?” Hugo asks, his eyes wide.
“Of course,” I say, wondering where else he thinks my guests would go after entering through the VIP lane.