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Evans nods.
“You feed yourself and clothe yourself, pay for an apartment, I’m sure.”
Evans nods again.
“Do you go out partying sometimes?”
“I do.”
“And do you own a car?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“You could give all that extra money to a charity. Like this one.”
“What good would it do?” Evans asks. “My money won’t make a dent in the current crisis.”
“Maybe not. But if you give a hundred dollars. And your colleagues each give a hundred dollars. And your boss and maybe his wife and let’s say a thousand people together each give a hundred. Suddenly, it could make a dent.”
“I guess it could. But small people like me won’t make a difference in this world. You’re obligated to do something because youcan.”
“You have one more question,” Emma says.
“What?” Evans looks confused. “I asked three.”
“Including what good it would do if you gave your money to charity.”
“That shouldn’t count!” Evans cries out.
“One more,” Emma says smoothly.
Evans shakes his head. “Fine. Are you going to have your fortunes read?”
I smile. “It’s all a part of the cause, isn’t it?” I hold out my hand. “Good luck with your article, Mr. Evans.”
“Thank you,” he says.
When he walks away, Emma laughs.
“What?”
“What a jackass,” I say, still bristling. “Can you believe the audacity?”
“He’s a journalist,” Emma says, waving her hand. “They’re all arrogant pricks, you know that.”
I nod. She’s right.
“She deserves better than him.”
Emma frowns. “What are you talking about?”
I sigh. “He’s the guy Rachel is here with. The wardrobe consultant… he’s her date.”
Emma changes as she processes what I’m saying.
“What’s going on with you?”
“What?” It’s my turn to be confused.
