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Honey Flava

Page 16

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“Hey! Are you at the store?”

“No.”

“I wish I could be there.”

“So do I. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to go.”

“It’s the Dou

ble Ten Parade, and you’ve even been invited to tonight’s reception. Number One Son has to be there,” she teased.

In Chinese culture, male children were favored over female, and the oldest male child was the favorite of all. A lot was expected of him. Brett had always felt pressure because he was the only son and the eldest by three minutes.

It used to bother him when Mary had felt slighted. However, as an adult, she practically reveled in their parents’ concentration on him because it lessened the pressure on her. “Qin wode pigu,” he said, telling her to kiss his ass in Mandarin.

“Shame,” she chided gleefully. “You kiss your mother with that mouth? Just suck it up.”

“Said the woman who’s tucked away in Idaho.”

“Hey, you’re lucky. Ever try finding a place to celebrate Chinese independence in middle Idaho?”

“Poor Mary. You’re going to miss out on the antiquated pomp and circumstance of a Chinese celebration,” he said sarcastically.

“Well, maybe if you’d stuck to the sciences, you’d have found yourself in the wilds of Idaho, too. Who are you taking to the reception?”

“Nobody.” He turned onto his parents’ packed street.

“How about taking Trisha?”

“She’s avoiding me.”

“Are you teasing her about her job choices again? We’re not kids anymore, Brett.”

Rissy had been a fixture at the Wong apartment from the time she’d moved to Chinatown. She’d been a smart, beautiful, curious girl who’d gotten under his skin. Nothing had changed. “She’s wasting her intelligence and her degrees in those jobs.”

“They’re just a means to an end. She hasn’t caught a break with her jewelry designs.”

Brett saw a car maneuvering out of a spot and pulled closer. “Her designs aren’t putting food on the table. She’s as flighty as a fairy. She dresses like a hippie and jingles so much from all that jewelry she wears that I can’t hear myself think,” he finished. What he left unsaid was that he wanted her, jewelry and all, and had since high school.

“You’re just mad because you’re attracted to her, Mr. Buttoned-Down Architect. Just make a move and stop being a wuss,” Mary baited him.

“Guess Rissy doesn’t tell you everything,” Brett crowed softly.

“Listen—wait. What did you say?”

Brett was silent.

“Come on, Brett, tell me,” Mary wheedled.

Silence.

“You know,” she began conversationally, “sometimes, I can’t stand you.”

Laughter.

“Fine. Be that way. Whatever you do, don’t hurt Trisha. I mean, I know you wouldn’t intentionally,” Mary hurried to say because she knew she’d insulted him. Despite his teasing, he’d always had a soft spot for Trisha, and next to herself, she’d be the last person he’d hurt. “You know what I mean. Trisha’s special.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m at the store. I’ll talk to you later.” After his visit with his parents, he’d corner Rissy in her apartment and make her face what they’d done and hopefully get her to do it again.



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