Beauty and the Billionaire

She jogs away toward wherever Jana has the car, and I’m headed back toward home, my hand still closed around the folded paper in my hand.

I wait until I’m back between the buildings on the other side of the road before I start unfolding it. By the time I’ve got it open, it’s too dark for me to see what’s written on it, but it doesn’t take long before I’m back within range of the streetlights.

It’s Ash’s phone number.

I’m not quite sure how I managed that, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Tonight turned out to be a pretty good night.

Chapter Two

Surprises

Ash

“Just give me a minute,” Jana says. “I promise, you’re going to be so excited when I tell you.”

“Then why not just tell me now?” I ask as she continues to push me backward toward the couch.

“I have to make a quick call first,” she oozes. “It’ll just take a minute.”

With that, my calves hit the front of the couch and I fall back into a somewhat awkward sitting position.

“Stay right there,” she says.

“I was going to run to the store for a few things,” I tell her. “Can it wait until I get back?”

“No,” she says. “Just stay there. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

She leaves the room.

There’s a reason I’m putting up such a fight. When it comes to surprises, Jana’s got a perfectly awful record. The things that would actually make for great surprises, she just blurts out. When she says I’m going to be “so excited” about anything, I start getting a little nervous.

We’re really different, Jana and I. Sometimes I wonder if we’d be friends if we didn’t go to elementary school together.

She’s a good person and everything; she’s just kind of erratic. When she told me she was looking at moving into a two-bedroom apartment, asking me if I wanted to be her roommate, I was a little hesitant.

It wasn’t until I’d made her swear a blood oath over a schedule of chores that I felt comfortable moving in with her.

Jana comes back into the room, saying, “Well, I guess I probably could have just told you. My mom’s coming to visit.”

“Oh,” I say, really trying to project some kind of enthusiasm. “For how long?”

“That’s the thing,” Jana says. “I wanted to talk to you about this first, but time was kind of a thing, so…” she trails off.

“Jana, how long is your mother staying?” I ask again sternly.

“It’s not like it’s really that long when you think about it,” she says as if she’s already answered my question. “I mean, she is my mom and everything. You said you’d be cool with it if she came to visit every once in a while.”

“Jana,” I say, “how long?”

“A few months,” she answers, “and I know that sounds like a lot, but when you really think about it, I mean, I was living with her for like eighteen years. Besides, my mom’s awesome. Everybody loves her.”

The best policy is to not respond to statements like that.

“You’re not mad, are you?” she asks, wincing.

“When does she get here?” I ask.