Going Broke by Trista Russell Page A

I beat my record of no skips at all and finished out at three. The last one I threw so hard that I fell to my side on the sand.
    He didn’t bother picking me up. Instead, he sat in front of me. “So how about dinner tonight?”
    I was speechless. The only thing I could do was blush. “Umm.” Didn’t he just say that he was married with children? “Are you serious?”
    He looked taken aback. “Yes.” He asked, “Are you playing hard to get?”
    I thought it over. What else was I going to do tonight? Of course I was going to have dinner. At least tonight it wouldn’t be with a stingray, and most importantly, I wouldn’t have to pay for it. I was lucking out; my drinks the night before, my lunch today, and I was about to hit the dinner jackpot. “I’m not playing—I am hard to get.”
    â€œWell, I’m up for the challenge,” he said. “Dinner?”
    â€œSure.” I smiled. “What time?”
    â€œI’m on your watch.”
    I looked down at my Timex. It was almost five in the evening. “How about eight?”
    â€œEight is great.” He stood up and helped me to my feet. “Where would you like to go?”
    â€œI’m on your appetite,” I joked as I dusted the sand from my dress.
    â€œHow about we leave the resort and see what’s out there?”
    â€œI’m down, if you are.”
    â€œI’ll meet you in the lobby at eight then.” He smiled.
    â€œSounds like a plan.” I gathered my things from the beach and started off in the direction of the Royal Towers.
    I then heard him say, “I’ll let Conrad know.”
    â€œOkay,” I said just to appease him. Why did he have to know? I certainly didn’t want him joining us. I never even got a chance to mention to Julian that Conrad was a stranger to me, and I never asked him what help or advice he could offer me for my sites. Oh well, I’d have all night to find that out.

“We can get over being poor, but it takes longer
to get over being ignorant.”
    â€”Jane Sequichie Hifler
    Bank Statement # 6
    Account Balance: $1,068.53
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    J ust as I promised, I was in the lobby at eight. I checked myself out several times before leaving the room. I tooted my own horn—“Damn, you look good.” My Hershey’s Kiss-colored skin, tight physique, and my form-fitting black strapless dress accentuated my long, black hair.
    I couldn’t help taking a deep breath, when Julian came around the corner wearing black slacks and a jacket over a pale yellow Oxford shirt. I was sure people thought we were a couple as we walked through the hotel.
    Standing outside, I assumed we were waiting on a cab, but a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up instead. Apparently, Julian had made plans. He told the driver the name of the restaurant, and we were on our way.
    He looked over at me. “You look very nice.”
    His staring made me timid. I was trying to sit as close to the door as I could. “Thank you.” I blushed. “You’re looking very dapper yourself.”
    â€œI try,” he said.
    Lord knows he didn’t have to try very hard.
    â€œHas anyone ever told you that you resemble that girl?” He couldn’t remember her real name. He gave up and continued, “The one that played Bird on the movie Soul Food .”
    I had heard that comment countless times before. “Yes. Nia Long.” I rolled my eyes, not because it wasn’t a compliment, but because the last person to make reference to it was Damian. He thought it was cute to call me Birdie. “I’m taller, though.”
    He was still looking at me. “I don’t bite, ya know.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, you look like you’re about to jump out of the car.” He lifted my hand from the seat. “Come over here.”
    I slid across the seat and tried not to tense up as my shoulder