My phone pings with new texts.
–Sebastian: Hey, you’re back in town?
–Me: Yes.
–Noah: Awesome! How about dinner? We have a reservation at Manny’s Tacos in downtown L.A. I got us a private room.
I look at the invitation with suspicion. They’re never this eager to see me.
–Nicholas: They just want to meet the woman who inspired you to go that far.
They? I snort at Nicholas’s choice of pronoun. He means “we.”
It wouldn’t be a bad idea to introduce Sierra to everyone. I’ve never done that before, but it feels natural in this case.
–Grant: Don’t worry, we didn’t invite Emmett. He’s still having issues with Amy.
That’s smart. Seeing me with Sierra would be like a punch to the stomach. Emmett deserves better.
Perhaps I should kick Dad in the face for Emmett’s birthday. That’d cheer him up for sure.
–Me: Dinner’s tonight? What time?
–Sebastian: Yes, at 7. But come earlier if you want.
–Me: I’ll be there. No guarantee about the lady, though. She’s a CEO, and usually very busy.
I have just enough time to grab a coffee before the class starts. Just as I’m getting up, Charles sticks his head into my office.
“How did it go?” he asks.
I sit back down with a frown. Could he be any vaguer? “What do you mean?”
“The fundraise that you did.” His gaze says, Tell me everything.
“Charles, what are you talking about? What fundraise?”
“With Sierra Fullilove! You took her to Tokyo.”
“For her birthday,” I say, enunciating slowly.
“Oh, no need to demur. I simply want to know if you made any progress. You paid for the trip, correct?”
“Yes.” It’s an effort not to grind out the single syllable.
Charles starts washing his hands in the air. “Excellent! Submit the receipts, and I’ll see how much we can reimburse you. But next time, do talk to me first. Makes it so much easier to allocate budget.”
“The receipts. Yes, I’ll do that.” This ought to be fun. “We flew first class to Japan. Stayed in a two-bedroom suite in downtown Tokyo. And had two of the very best seats at the concert.”
Charles’s complexion turns progressively paler.
“And the champagne we had at one of our dinners cost over a thousand dollars.”
“Over a thousand dollars?” His eyes are about to pop out of their sockets in shock. “Was it made of gold?”
“No. But that’s what she deserves.” She had a glass. I had the rest. I debate if I should give him that piece of information, then decide not to. I don’t want Charles passing out in my office. I have a class to teach.
He wipes his hands on his shirt, clearly calculating feverishly. He wants to object to splurging, but he doesn’t want to say out loud that Sierra doesn’t deserve nice things. “This is why you should have told me ahead of time,” he says finally. “Then you would have known how much you were authorized to spend.”