Page 48 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“Make it two,” the man said. “Good choice.” He nodded at Mandy as the waiter rushed off.

“It sounds refreshing,” Mandy said. “And if you can’t go on vacation…”

“Let the vacation come to you. I like it.” He chugged the last of his beer, crushed the can in his hand, and set it down. “I’m Khalan, by the way.”

“Amanda.” She stuck out a hand. Edmund preferred she usedher full name—said it sounded more professional—and she didn’t want to fight about it.

Khalan shook it. “Well, Amanda. What brings a girl like you to an event like this?”

“I’m here with Edmund Prince. Or I came with him, but I have no idea where he went.”

Khalan nodded like this made sense. “Making his rounds, I’m sure. But he’ll be back soon.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch.” Khalan shrugged, but the way he did it made Mandy sense there was more to it. Like maybe he knew Edmund rather well.

The waiter came back and placed two piña coladas on the table—each a lovely pale yellow with a slice of pineapple perched on the rims of the glasses.

“To sweating our balls and tits off.” Khalan raised his glass, and Mandy clicked hers against it. The sweet blended drink immediately seemed to cool her down by ten degrees as soon as it hit her lips. It really was like a vacation in her mouth.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said.

“So good,” Mandy confirmed.

“So besides knowing how to pick the perfect beverage, what is it that you do?”

Mandy took another sip, and before she could answer, Edmund appeared just as Khalan had suggested he would.

“Keeping my girl company, are you?” Edmund clapped a hand on Khalan’s shoulder. It was the type of gesture Mandy was never sure the meaning of. Was it friendly or a subtle way for men to try to assert their dominance over each other? Either way, it always seemed rather ridiculous.

Khalan took a relaxed sip of his cocktail. “Well, someone has to since it seems you left her out here to fend for herself.”

While it was annoying they were talking like she wasn’t there, it was nice that someone stood up for Mandy. She had been lonely, and hot, and thirsty, and Edmund returned without the beverage he had set out for. “Yes, Khalan was nice enough to order me this.” Mandy raised her glass in aremember-you-were-supposed-to-get-me-some-kind-of-refreshment?way.

Edmund flinched—which momentarily made Mandy think he felt bad for forgetting about her, but then he said, “That was very kind of you, Mr. Jain.”

Now that Mandy looked at him, Khalan did seem a little older than Edmund perhaps, but not by much. Why did Edmund address him so formally? What was Mandy missing?

“No reason to thank me. Without Amanda here, this party was seeming rather dull.”

Edmund grinned like he was in on a secret. “She does know how to have a good time.”

Thankfully neither seemed to glance in Mandy’s direction. Her cheeks blazed hotter than the day’s rising temperatures. She took a big swallow of her cocktail to cool them down.

“She was just about to tell me what it is she does when she isn’t at work functions on a national holiday.”

“Right now, I’m consulting for a marketing firm, but really I’m an artist—”

“What Amanda means is that her job allows great artistic freedom. She can do things on the computer I’ve never seen before. You know that billboard off Thirty-Second? That’s her work.”

On one hand it felt like Edmund was bragging about Mandy’s work, and yet on the other, it felt like he was ashamed of her.Why mention the billboard but not that she was also a painter—even if it had been a while since she’d picked up a brush—that her passion was on the canvas, not on the computer?

Khalan chuckled heartily. “Oh, that’s a good one.”

“Thank you,” was all Mandy could muster. Her gut twisted tighter than a package of dried ramen. The ad campaign was getting attention, sure, and it wasn’t that she looked down on those who did that type of work, but for her it was just a means to an end—a way to support her true passion. And the way people talked about the billboard like it was some great accomplishment, when in reality it was just an ad for shitty yogurt. There weren’t many people that could claim “artist” as a profession, and Mandy hadn’t given up on the idea completely. Not that she was naive, she was just hopeful, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Edmund then brought the conversation back to work. He constantly talked about work. Why not, just for one day—even with all his coworkers around—talk about something else? Wasn’t this event supposed to be fun? Wasn’t it about “getting to know each other” or whatever it said on the invitation?

---