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The Boyfriend Bet

Page 71

by J.S. Cooper

“I feel guilty for involving you in this. It’s a lie, and I know you don’t love lying.” He lets out a deep sigh. “I just really want to get my hands on this money, and it makes me feel selfish, but …”

“It’s okay. You’re doing it for your friend, right?”

“Yeah. You want to have a seat?”

I nod, and we sit down on the cool sand.

“I’m so dumb. I should have brought a blanket.” He looks at me. “I could run back if you want, and …”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind getting a little damp sand on my dress.” I lean back. “Plus, we can look up at the stars.”

“True.”

We lie there, shoulder to shoulder, for a few minutes, gazing up and listening to the water crash against the rocks.

“Charlie was the first best friend I had who wasn’t part of this world,” he says finally.

I roll over and look at him. “Oh?” I say softly, hoping he’ll continue.

He nods. “Yeah. He didn’t know I was rich. It didn’t matter in the Navy. We were two eighteen-year-old guys trying to get through boot camp, looking at girls, talking about what life was going to be like when we got older, what dreams we had. He wanted a big family, and he wanted to own a farm actually. His grandparents were from Iowa, and he wanted to make enough money to go back and buy their farm and have his kids help him on it. He had it all planned.” He shakes his head. “Every single part of his life, he had planned. He even knew his first son’s name.”

“Oh?”

“He was going to call him Henry, after a friend from elementary school who had died of leukemia.” His voice chokes. “He cried when he told me that story, and I told him, ‘Buckle up, Charlie. Got to be strong.’ He looked at me and said, ‘I’m trying, man. I’m sorry.’ I didn’t get it then. I thought, Your friend died when you were a kid; why are you still crying?” He sighs. “I get it now.”

I squeeze his arm, and he keeps going.

“We both kicked boot camp’s ass. We were the top two guys in our unit. And then one day, he told me he’d fallen in love.”

“Oh.” I’m surprised. That isn’t what I expected to hear.

“Her name was Tatiana. She was Russian. Very pretty. Blonde hair, blue eyes.”

My stomach stirs at his words, partly from jealousy, partly because I’m the exact opposite of that, but I don’t want him to see that I’m jealous.

“She had a strong accent. She didn’t have her papers. And there was something about her that was just cold. She’d look you in the eyes, but there was no feeling there. I knew. I knew she didn’t love him. He couldn’t see it because she was so pretty. She was using him.” He shakes his head. “She wanted papers. She wanted to be an American citizen, and I don’t blame her for that, but she didn’t have to go through Charlie.”

He grits his teeth, and I look down at his fist. He thumps it into the cold sand and closes his eyes.

“They were going to a club. He had this motorbike. He was a speed demon. It was raining. She was upset. I was told he died instantly, as soon as the truck hit him.” His eyes fly open, and he stares at me. I can see the pain in them. “I was meant to go with them that night, but I hated her, so I canceled. If I’d gone, I would have driven.” His voice cracks. “I’m the reason he died.”

“It’s not your fault, Brett.” I run my fingers across his cheek. “I know he wouldn’t blame you. I bet he was happy to just spend time with her.”

“She got married two months later. She didn’t even care.” His face is angry. “He loved her so much, and she didn’t even care.”

I swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He pauses for a moment, and then his eyes flicker over to me. “You knew he was dead. My granddad told you or my sisters?”

“Your granddad let it slip last night. I didn’t want him to know I didn’t know, so I didn’t say anything.”

“And you decided not to tell me you knew. You waited.”

“I didn’t want to push. Obviously, you weren’t ready to have that conversation with me, and I’m not mad.”

He touches the side of my face. “That was very thoughtful of you.” He sighs. “If I’d told Charlie what I thought about Tatiana, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone to pick her up that night. But I didn’t want to interfere, you know? My entire life, my parents dictated what they thought my life should be. They wanted me to go to Harvard. They wanted me to marry Veronica.”

“Wait. The Veronica who was supposed to be at the tennis club?”