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Zach Sun:
No man this side of the Jersey Shore wears a tank top outside of the gym.
The news of my surprise blind date ruined the cadence of my schedule.
On a normal day, I’d be midway into the selection process for a hostile takeover.
Eileen Yang had just saved a company at the expense of my mood.
The doorbell chimed at exactly three o’clock.
At the very least, she’d arrived on time.
I valued punctuality. It showed character. Well, the bare minimum, anyway.
I strode to my window, passing my uneaten lunch. A white Bentley parked beside my fountain, sparkling from a recent wash.
A fine choice. Nothing too offensive or gaudy. No bright-pink Range Rovers or neon-green Lamborghinis.
Stuffing my hands into my front pockets, I strolled out the office and down the staircase to greet my blind date.
To be fair, this could hardly be considered ablinddate. Not when I’d cruised by a measly layer of security to get to Eileen’s file from the dating agency.
Eileen Yang.
Thirty-three.
Indeed, a neurologist based out of Manhattan.
Three degrees from two Ivy Leagues. Multiple Doctors Without Borders stints. The author of a popular A.P. Bio study guide.
Last year, she’d drained her royalties to pay off the 12-million-dollar mortgage for a condo on the Upper East side.
It seemed Mom had found the perfect girl for her. Which, of course, meant she’d found the perfect girl for me.
Now all I had to do was not fuck this up.
Easier said than done.
When it came to humans, I had more expertise in fucking up than succeeding. Women, specifically, found my entire existence a personal slight.
I never paid any real attention to them.
But when I did, it usually came in the form of brutal honesty, informing them that I found their conversation to be as mind-numbing as sorting grains of sand by size.
You literally know how to split atoms, Zach.
Surely, you can make this girl not hate you.
I moseyed down the hallway, descending the stairs, noting that the house looked particularly pristine today.
I was a little disappointed Farrow had yet to try anything fishy. I’d been under the impression we’d battle it out as soon as she arrived.
Perhaps she had something up her sleeve for me for later.
No part of me believed she would lay down and take it. Accept me as her boss and behave herself.
When I opened the front door, I found my mother’s ideal woman. Tall and slender with glossy dark tresses that reached her shoulders and a sage-green Burberry suit.
