“You look nice,” I said. “Very happy and carefree. Lots of women.”
“I was pretty drunk when that picture was taken. It was a private photo. I have no idea how the magazine even got it.”
“I’m sure somebody snapped a quick pic on their phone. Sold it for thousands.”
“I don’t want to be that man anymore, Rebecca. I’ve quit drinking and partying like that.”
“You don’t have to explain your lifestyle to me. That’s the best thing about a fake girlfriend. You can do whatever you want and I won’t be mad or judge your actions. See? You should have gotten me years ago.”
He chuckled, then looked off. “I really want to be a better man.”
“I’ve learned firsthand that no matter how many things I alter in my life, I’ll never be the perfect woman. All of us will make mistakes, give in to weaknesses, and stumble from time to time. We’re only human. But, with enough focus, we can really work hard to make improvements over time.”
“And that’s what I hope to do.”
“What’s truly important to you as a man? Simply ask yourself, what’s truly important to you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe work. I’d have to really think about that.”
“If nothing’s coming to you, don’t worry. Just keep thinking. I’ll ask you later. Just be completely honest.”
“Right off the bat, do you see any strengths in me?” he asked.
I peered at him for a moment, and then responded. “You don’t give up. You don’t crumble under pressure. Instead, you stay strong and climb the necessary obstacles on your path to achieve success.”
“Thank you, Rebecca.”
“How about me? Anything particular stick out?”
He smiled. “Absolutely. Your strengths are compassion, empathy, and a caring nature. I’ve seen you in action at the hospice center. The residents speak very highly of you. One time, you called off when I was there for a meeting. Mrs. Harkson refused to let anyone take care of her but you. She was screaming your name in the lobby and refused all care.”
“Thanks, Marcus for the sweet compliments. And I love Mrs. Harkson. She’s the nicest lady ever.”
I talked about my job and Marcus didn’t get annoyed like most guys did. It was refreshing. I told him all about my patients and how much I enjoyed my job. He thought it was sweet how I spent my own money to buy patients the extra stuff they wanted. I even bought Mrs. Zacks a cheeseburger meal for lunch. She said it was her biggest dream. So I went and got her “biggest dream.” Her eyes widened and I’d never seen somebody so happy. If I could make one person happy for just a moment, then that made me happy. We laughed and talked for hours.
Three hours and six combined coffees later, we were pulling into the club.
“Okay, let’s recap.” Marcus leaned across the limo and straightened my ponytail. I wondered if this “casual touch” thing was as strange for him as it was for me. If he found it at all unusual, he certainly wasn’t letting on. “First thing, we find Mr. Takahari and invite him to a game. Then I’ll—”
“No,” I interrupted, “that’s not what we agreed.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “All right. First thing, we find you a bathroom, then we find Mr. Takahari.”
“And I will charm him with my stunning wit.”
“Then I’ll spin a casual conversation into an investment pitch somewhere between the eighth and ninth hole...”
“...while I’ll be guzzling cosmos and showing off my new bracelet.”
I grinned happily and jiggled it around my wrist so it could catch the sun. The only diamonds I’d ever worn were a pair of my mother’s earrings that she loaned me for my college graduation. But according to Marcus, “cocktails and gemstones” were the foundations upon which the “sport” of golf was built. On the way to the club, he’d stopped at Tiffany’s and I’d gotten to browse around and select anything I liked. I had gone with a gorgeous laced tennis bracelet—half to show solidarity with my favorite sport (which was actually a sport), half because I literally gasped when I saw it. My only condition was that we return it the next day. Marcus had protested endlessly, but I couldn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, reconcile a diamond bracelet being part of him “covering expenses.” No—the fairy tale ended at noon, and my sparkling new toy turned back into a hospice ID band.
But until then...no reason I couldn’t flaunt it a little...
Marcus’ nervous face actually broke into a smile, as he watched me twisting my arm in the sunbeams, scattering bits of light in a haloed circle around us.
“I really wish you’d let me just get that for you.”
I shook my head and smoothed the skirt of my white, starched cocktail dress. “No, ‘cause then the next day you’ll be like, ‘where are my diamonds, don’t I get diamonds too?’ And then what would I do? It’s an endless cycle. Best to just head it off at the pass.”