Going Broke by Trista Russell

me?”
    â€œOn the dance floor, baby.” He laughed. “Show him those moves.”
    I thought I would sink into the sand. “I’m not in the dancing mood right now.”
    Julian looked at me. “Are you turning me down?”
    I glared over at him. He was cute—No, the man was fine. He had the “Jason Taylor thing” going on—Tall, pecan tan, bald head, and lips that looked like someone had been sucking on them.
    When he reached over the table for my hand and exposed his wedding band, I nearly spit into my martini.
    â€œSo are you gonna show me?”
    I was disappointed, but I stood up. “I guess I can.”
    Conrad winked at me and whispered.
    Was this his way of helping me with my website? I thought I was coming to talk business to the guy, not bump and grind with him.
    As Julian and I moved together, I watched Conrad at the table. Three girls, younger than me, strolled in and walked straight toward him like they knew him. They greeted him with hugs and kisses.
    Before long they had Richard, Thomas, and Martin on the floor.
    Conrad moved to the bar and just watched us. While moving his glass in a circle to stir his cognac, he smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.
    â€œSo how old are you?” Julian asked.
    â€œTwenty-seven.” I asked, “You?”
    â€œThirty.” He moved closer to my ear. “So what are we doing tonight?” He was smiling like I was really supposed to have something planned.
    â€œI wasn’t aware that we were doing anything,” I joked. “I’m on vacation. What about you?”
    â€œWell, I’m only here until tomorrow morning.”
    â€œWhy are you leaving so soon?”
    â€œI was actually supposed to be in Fort Lauderdale at a convention. Today is the last day, and the only thing planned was a luncheon and a workshop that I attended earlier this year.” He pointed at Conrad. “When I learned that Rad was here, I hopped on the plane he sent for us.”
    â€œSo what do you guys do?”
    â€œI do marketing for Jump Records.” He pointed at the others. “I just met those guys today.”
    I was confused. “But you all know Conrad?”
    â€œYeah, he’s the common denominator,” Julian said as we continued to move to the beat.
    We did more talking than we did dancing. In a strong Bostonian accent he said that he was married, and had been for six years. He also had two boys, Julian Jr., who was three, and Kurt, who was just seven months.
    Normally I couldn’t stand to hear anyone with a Massachusetts accent even yawn, but he had me curious.
    We left the dance floor and made our way out to the beach. It wasn’t an intimate setting, but we sat side by side in the sand, the waves stopping just three or four feet away.
    Julian talked like he had been living on a deserted island for months without conversation. I listened to him, offered my advice, and answered whenever he paused long enough. He was making money at Jump, but two restaurants that he opened had failed, and his wife had two miscarriages before getting pregnant with J.J. His mother was suffering from the same illness as my father, and he found himself in the middle of deciding if he should disconnect his sister from the life support machine keeping her alive. A month before, a car accident killed her husband and left her hanging on in a coma.
    After hours of talking, Julian put his problems on hold and stood up, tossing rocks and shells at the water. They skimmed the surface a few times before falling to the bottom.
    I thought that after revealing all that he did to me, the least I could do was make him smile. “I bet I can make mine skip more than yours.” I picked up a rock and tried. It didn’t make it far from the shoreline.
    â€œWhat a waste of energy.” He laughed and threw out another stone. “This is how it’s done.”
    For about fifteen minutes, he coached me. Before I knew it,