Page 6 of Finance Bros

I’ve lived in the Bay Area my whole life, and I get how people are around here. You can’t go anywhere without seeing a Pride flag, same sex couples, or gender nonbinaryfolx. My firstroommate at Stanford was gay, and he had more than a thing or two to say to me Freshman year about my supposed “homophobia,” which mostly consisted of my sneering at his guests before I left the room.

It’s not like I ever said anything. I just didn’t need to see that shit. And I wouldn’t call myself homophobic in general—my homophobia is extremely specific—but I did learn what triggers people of that particular persuasion, so I learned to school my expression and use my words more judiciously, which is a useful skill to have in a place like San Francisco where being a cis-straight-white man puts me in a minority. Even at this table, I’m outnumbered. Three women, two gay guys—Ryan and Miguel, a they/them, and Nathan, the Black dude. At leasthe’sstraight. I think.

I’m all for diversity in the workplace, but my life outside school and work is likely something this lady Bailey would roll her eyes at. I’ve had the same girlfriend since high school, and all our friends are straight couples—all white. My gym is kinda gay, but there are plenty of women there, too. I believe in live and let live, but that shit goes both ways. I don’t need people questioning my identity or my sex life either.

We take a ten minute break before one of the partners is set to come greet us and answer questions. I immediately go to the bathroom to check my hair, which is fine and will stay fine if I manage to keep from touching it.

When I get back to the conference room, it looks like Ryan hasn’t moved except to scoot his chair back from the table to give himself room to look up at Miguel who’s standing and leaning back on the conference table, smiling down at him and speaking with elaborate hand gestures.

When Miguel hands Ryan his phone, it looks very much like Ryan puts his number in it. It could be an intern thing—we’ll probably all have each other in a group text by the end of theweek. Or it could be that gay dudes just movethat fast. I fight the sneer that wants to twist my mouth. It’s none of my business.Stay professional.

I clear my throat, and Ryan’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn. Miguel smiles brightly at me. “I was just telling Ryan that I have a friend who did this internship six years ago—apparently there’s a big team project involved.”

Awesome. I love team projects. Kidding. I fucking hate them. “What was the project?” I ask.

“They had to take on a failing business in the neighborhood and make it profitable, but they said the project changes every year.”

“Sounds fun,” I say, in terms of resurrecting a business. I love a good project. Just not teams. I’ve always been told I’m not a team player, hence leaving the basketball league after only a couple of weeks. But I also hate losing.

Georgie returns, accompanied by one of the partners, Jonathan Baker. He’s a good-looking white dude in his forties with a diamond earring and a few stray silver hairs in his otherwise thick, dark hair and beard. His wire-rimmed glasses make him look intelligent and approachable, but he’s one of the richest men in this city, and he’s got the future of everyone in this room in his hands.

He pulls up a seat next to Georgie’s at the head of the table and introduces himself. “I’m excited for this group,” he says. “We’re expecting great things. You’ll each be paired with either one of our junior advisors or analysts. They’ll work with you one-on-one to show you the ropes and expand your knowledge of the field. At the end of this meeting, Georgie will take you around the office, and you’ll meet your summer mentors. Sound good?”

We all murmur that it does. But I hear the leading edge in the question, like he’s not finished with us yet.

“In addition, we like out of the box thinkers here. When an intern impresses us, we’re more likely than not to offer them a job at the end of summer, provided we have positions available. We like to give you opportunities to distinguish yourselves, which is where the summer project comes in.”

I tense internally, the shitty horoscope sounding more like a curse than one of Kaylin’s tired daily rituals.

Jonathan continues. “The only rule in this summer’s challenge is there are no rules.”

In an overly dramatic pause, he lets his words sink in, and I get the sense we’re all collectively holding our breaths.

“I’m giving you each one hundred dollars. Whoever turns that hundred dollars into the most money by the end of the summer wins. I want to see your work at the end. If you lose your money in a week, you’re out, but I expect you’ll invest wisely.”

“They have to be investments?” Bailey asks with a slightly raised hand.

“What was the first rule, Bailey?” Jonathan responds.

“No rules,” she says.

“Any other questions?”

I don’t have any. It seems straightforward enough. While I do tend to think in terms of investments, those are slow to yield, so it’ll have to be something besides stocks. I backburner it for now. Since I’m not the most creative person in the world, trying to force an idea will only frustrate me.

“Great,” Jonathan says. “I’ll leave you to Georgie and welcome you all again to Marks & Baker. I hope you enjoy your time here.”

No teams? Fuck yes. I’m so relieved, I’m tempted to turn and smile at Bailey, but she’s busy scribbling in her notebook. Without thinking, I glance across the table at Ryan. He’s looking directly at me. His hazel eyes are subzero cold, and his jaw is setin a perfect square. I perceive the implied threat—the challenge—thehate. It lasts all of one second, and I feel like he’s got me on my back ready to pound my face with his elbow.

Okay, so the last time I saw him, I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior. Or the time before that. But you don’t train a dog by telling them no once. You have to reinforce that shit, or they’ll test you whenever they get the chance.

It’s his fault how things turned out. He was the one who fucked everything up. If he could have kept his stupid mouth shut, we might still be friends even if we’re not stepbrothers anymore.

But here we are.

The break I was planning to ask Kaylin for this summer might have to wait. It’s not like I can be singlenow. Between this internship and the trips she’s planning with her friends, it would have been a perfect opportunity to hit pause on our stale relationship. I figured it would either make us realize we really do belong together or give us each a chance to accept that we don’t. There’s another couple in our friend group who’ve also been together since high school. They’re engaged, and they seem way more into each other than Kaylin and I do.

But they also live together. They play pickleball and go hiking on weekends. They have date nights and plan fun vacations. Kaylin and I don’t do any of that. If she goes out or travels, it’s with the girls. If I go on a hike, it’s because I want to be by myself. She’s not a fan of the great outdoors, and I for one, enjoy jerking off in a tent in the middle of the woods where I can be as loud as I want.

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