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“What do you want to know then?”
I think for a moment. “What does he do?”
“He’s in business.”
“What kind of business?”
“The family business.”
I sigh. This guy does not like to answer questions.
“Which is what?” I press.
“Import-export.”
“What does he import or export?”
His face darkens for a second. “Mostly goods from China. What are you studying at Cal?”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to be polite in asking about me or because he doesn’t want to talk about JD anymore.
I’m about to answer when I notice his jaw tightens. At first I’m confused because I can’t see how I could have upset him, but then I see the woman from the third-floor balcony take the barstool next to him. Up close, she’s even more gorgeous than Amy. Her hair is stylishly done, her brows perfectly manicured, her lips plump and red, her legs long and lean. The only knock against her is that she’s a little on the skinny side, but otherwise she looks like she belongs on a fashion runway.
“What are you doing here, Kim?” Darren asks her. He doesn’t seem all that pleased to see her.
“Thought I’d slum it, like you,” she answers, flashing the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen.
I wonder what she means by slumming it.
She leans across Darren toward me. “Hi, I’m Kimberly.”
“Bridget,” I respond.
“Bridget. How cute. I didn’t know people still named their kids that. Where’s that sweater you were wearing?”
Before I can figure out what this woman’s deal is, Darren is pulling me off my barstool. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I inquire.
“The dance floor,” he replies.
His hand is firmly at my back, pressing me forward, and I try not to let my brain fall to pieces again.
