Page 4 of Pregnant By the Playboy
“What does Brian do?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean he does nothing?”
“His family owns a big multinational company,” Carrie says. “I think he’s involved, but not heavily.”
Right.
This is so not my world. I’ve never been to a house on the Bridle Path before, and it’s a freaking monster of a house, with a huge fountain out front. Not that there’s any water in it since it’s January. A light dusting of snow covers the ground.
I grew up in a two-bedroom apartment in Scarborough. It was just me and my mother, who worked at a dry cleaners. Whenever my mother bought a box of Peek Freans—that was what luxury meant to me. I wouldn’t have even been able to conceive of something like this. A house in Toronto with an actual gate and semi-circular driveway.
But I’m thirty-six now, and I don’t have to count my nickels to buy a box of cookies. I have a condo and a good job as an engineer.
At the thought of my job, I remember all the shit I have to do on Monday morning.
I push that aside. Tonight, I’m going to have fun. I deserve it.
I’ve known most of my friends since high school or university, but I only met Carrie a few years ago. She’s four years younger than me, and she’s all about going out and having fun. Since many of my friends now have children and aren’t usually available on Friday nights, it’s good to have a friend like Carrie. She works in advertising, although she never seems to do much work, and she’s always up-to-date on the hot new places to eat and drink. She’s the youngest child in a wealthy family from Hong Kong, and she’s always seemed worldlier than me.
I step out of the car in my black boots and long black jacket, and Carrie and I proceed to the door. It’s opened by a man who I think might be an honest-to-God butler.
Yeah, this is so not my world.
But I hand him my jacket and take off my boots, and I act like I belong.
I can conquer this party like I’ve conquered everything else in life.
“I love your dress,” Carrie says.
“Thanks.” I don’t tell her that I found it on a sale rack for a hundred bucks. My outfit is probably worth a tiny fraction of hers. She’s wearing a sexy white ruched dress and showy gold jewelry. I feel like her opposite, dressed in black with silver jewelry.
“Brian!” she cries, throwing her arms around an East Asian man in a gray suit. “This is my friend Marissa. The woman I told you about, remember?”
“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking my hand.
We follow him into a room with low lights and loud music. A few people are dancing.
Brian gestures me toward the bar. It’s not a help-yourself bar; no, it’s staffed by two bartenders. Both Asian men with ponytails and silk jackets that somehow don’t look ridiculous.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine,” I say.
One of them nods, and I turn toward the room as I wait.
Life has been stressful lately. I’ve been busy with a big project at work, and my mother had a health scare. We got the test results back a few days ago, and fortunately, the tumor is benign.
Now, I finally feel like I can breathe again, and I’m determined to have a good time and maybe end my dry streak. Carrie assured me this would be a good place to get laid.
I feel a touch out of place, but I know I look hot in this outfit, and the key is to be confident.
I also feel a little old. I think most of these people are closer to thirty.
Once the bartender passes over my drink, Carrie grabs my hand and introduces me to a few men she knows. One of them looks at me appreciatively.
“You like him?” Carrie whispers.
I shake my head and grab a petit four off the tray as a waiter passes by.
