Power Play by Tara Lynn Page B

back to the couch. “Tell me about it.”
    Still staring at the bizarre picture she’d slashed together, she shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    “Do about what?” I grasped her dark tan hands in mine. “Tell me.”
    She finally met my eyes. “My parents want me to marry a guy.”
    “They’ve always wanted you to marry one guy or another.”
    “It’s so not the same this time. They found this Indian doctor who wants an artist wife and they’ve made it very clear that I better fall for him.”
    “So just go mess up another lunch date.” I smiled. “He sounds rich. Didn’t you say you’d try out a rich guy?”
    “It’s not a trial, Kerry. They’re pressing me to accept.”
    “Accept what? All they can do is have you meet. This isn’t India. They can’t make you marry him.”
    “That doesn’t even work in India anymore,” she said, sighing. “You know what does? Cutting off your daughter’s rent.”
    “They’re cutting off your rent unless you marry a guy?” My grip felt weak suddenly.
    “My rent, my tuition, everything.” She gave me a mournful look with her deep, dark eyes. “Apparently they only tolerated it because they were building me up to be some boring guy’s manic pixie dream girl. I’m just in finishing school apparently.”
    I understood that all too well. It was amazing how close our lives came when we’d grown up on opposite sides of the planet. It wasn’t religion chaining her as much as culture, but there was hardly any difference.
    My mother couldn’t have picked a better day to call. I needed a fresh reminder of who I'd become.
    I threw a tight hug around Mira. “I’ll help you figure it out. Don’t worry. Worst comes to worst, I at least have your rent a bit.”
    Mira laughed out a sob against my shoulder. “That’s sweet Kerry, but I can’t live with you forever.”
    “Just until you figure things out. No one should force you to be with someone you don’t want.”
    Mira pulled apart with a smile. “Guess this means I’ll have to start understanding the whole concept of money right?”
    “You don’t spend much, but yeah, it can’t hurt to cut down. Personal finance is easy. I can start you off right now.”
    Mira rolled her eyes. “Oh, god. Ok, I didn’t mean like right right now. Don’t you have improv tonight?”
    I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t exactly feeling in a free mood. “Things might get a little uncomfortable for everyone there if I went today anyway.”
    “Fine. Go ahead and tell me what a budget is.”
    I smiled, opened a new page on her easel and began my own brush strokes.
    Numbers always put me at ease. With Mira and Snowflake and the dim yellow living room light, it was almost a perfect evening again. The only thing that could have made it better was Antoine cleverly undercutting my every word as he texted someone on Grindr.
    Maybe I should join one of those apps. After a while though. Right now, it was still hard to compare anyone to Deacon. I'd have to wean myself off him like a drug, patiently and persistently.
    Next week, I’d be off in Abu Dhabi, talking to the solar company on-site. I should be dreaming about the travel, the amazing opportunity for my resume. Instead, it made me nervous.
    Because travel meant I’d have to see Deacon Stone again. And over there, I’d be in a strange place, away from everything I knew.
    And just like in Chicago, I might be confused enough to do the wrong thing about it.
    ****
    Friday afternoon came and it looked like I might get out early. I double checked my initial report for the solar company’s financials along with the dozens of questions I planned to get answered on site.
    My team leader, Leo, had been a little slackjawed at the afternoon meeting when I presented. Even Trey had been taking notes. He might have thought this project was pointless, but that was just because he wasn’t skeptical enough to ask the right questions.
    The memory brought me a dozen fresh