Claimed Harder by Em Brown
Chapter 23
DARREN
Past
“Where’s Bridget?” my mother asks when I join her on the balcony of her villa.
“In one of the cooking classes learning how to make pad thai and curry,” I reply. I sit down next to her to watch the sunset.
“I had a chat with her this afternoon.”
She waits for my reaction, but I don’t provide her one.
“She seems nice.”
Knowing that’s not all she has to say, I wait for her to continue.
She cuts to the chase. “Too nice.”
I don’t say anything, though I happen to agree with her.
“Really. What are you doing with someone like her?” my mother asks.
“You’d prefer I was with Kimberly?”
“No! Well…Kimberly would at least be okay with your triad association.”
“I thought you didn’t want me with the triad anymore?”
“I don’t. Tommy tried to talk me into being okay about you taking your father’s place in counterfeiting. He made it sound like you were going to do it.”
“Is that why you’re here? You want to talk me out of it?”
“Yes! You know you could get up to twenty years?”
“That’s not so bad.”
She makes a face. “I did not spend eighteen years raising you, then sending you off to college so that you can end up in jail. What would happen to Bridget if you went to jail?”
“She’d end up like you, is my guess. A rich widow.”
“With a broken heart. Is that what you want for your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my…we might not even be together in a month.”
“Why are you together now? I thought you were coming stag.”
“I thought it’d be fun to invite Bridget.”
“You should be careful. What if she falls in love with you?”
“She’s too levelheaded to do that.”
“Women are capable of a lot of irrational behavior.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“I thought I was levelheaded.”
I stretch my legs out. “You’re different. You were okay with Dad being in the triad until he went to jail. Bridget doesn’t even drink. Hell, I had to bend over backwards just to get her to accept an all-expenses-paid trip to Thailand. What woman in her right mind doesn’t automatically say ‘yes’ to an invitation like that?”
“You should call it off with her sooner rather than later. Before you get too serious about each other.”
“You worried about me?”
“It’s for her benefit, too. She’s one of those do-gooders. You’ll mess up her life.”
For some reason, that thought doesn’t sit well with me. Maybe my mom’s right about calling it off sooner rather than later.
“So what did you tell Lee Hao Young?” my mother asks next.
“I told him I’d think about it.”
“You don’t have to follow in your father’s footsteps.”
“I don’t want to run The Lotus for the rest of my life.”
“So do something else. You have a degree from UCLA.”
“To do what? Work for some boring-ass company? Risk golden handcuffs instead of jail?”
“If you don’t like boring, why are you with Bridget?”
I surprise myself when I look at her and say, “She’s not boring.”
My mother grows silent before saying, “I know you won’t necessarily take my advice. You know what will make me happy when it comes to the Jing San. And if you do stick around with the triad, you’re better off letting Bridget go.”
Per Bridget’s request,we hit the street markets for dinner. JD and Amy opted to dine at one of the five-star restaurants and go clubbing afterward, and I’m glad to have Bridget to myself. She gawks at the long line of food vendors stretching through the Laird Yai and insists on treating me to moo ping and som tam from a street vendor.
“It’s the one meal I can afford to do so,” she insists.
For dessert, she passes on the coconut ice cream served in a hot dog bun in favor of a roti stuffed with bananas and sweetened with condensed milk.
“So what’d you do while I was in class?” Bridget asks as we stroll beneath strings of lights stretching across the street.
“Talked with my mom,” I replied.
“That’s nice. What did you guys talk about?”
“You.”
“Really? What did she say about me?”
“That I’m not good enough for you.”
Bridget does a double-take, then chuckles. She thinks I’m joking.
“I had a chat with your mom today, too,” she tells me.
“My mentioned that. When did that happen?”
“While you were golfing. We sat by the pool together.”
“What did you guys talk about?”
“You.”
I smirk. “What’d she say?”
She thinks for a moment. “She asked if I was in love with you.”
I hesitate, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but Bridget doesn’t seem the type of person to fall for someone too easily, unlike her friend Amy.
“What did you say?” I ask.
“I said ‘hell, no, I’m just using him to get a free trip to Thailand.’”
I laugh.
“In reality, I told her we haven’t known each other long,” she reveals.
“So the answer was ‘no.’”
She pauses, then asks, “Did you want a different answer?”
I also pause. I’ve never regarded crowded street markets, made muggy by the mass of people, filled with a variety of smells both aromatic and pungent, as romantic. But looking at Bridget, that was the way I felt. Like I did want a different answer.
I brush it off. “’Course not.”
Like me, she seems faintly disappointed, then tries to lighten the tension by joking, “I told her we were just about the sex.”
“Good.”
We continue walking, but when her hand grazes mine, I decide to take it.
