I decided to text Byron after a seven day “fast” of communication. Part of me really thought about not messaging him at all, maybe let this weird thing between us die a dignified death.

But I had to say one more thing to Byron before I let things die down. I felt I had to explain something to him, for his own good, and for my own comfort.

---

Byron, I am writing you this one last time because I want to set the record straight. I am not interested in you. I will admit that you probably are an attractive man to the type of girl looking for a wild and sexual relationship. But that person is not me. I’ve been there and done that, and I’ve learned from my mistakes. I just don’t want to give you any impression that I’m interested in you romantically or sexually. Just to be crystal clear.

As far as your “therapy” goes, I take back what I said. I still do think you should see a therapist, it will help you sort things out in your mind. But to be honest, I think you need a really smart doctor, not just a part-time therapist with minimal education. The reason being, you have a lot of issues you need serious advice on and possibly some moral guidance. You strike me, NOT as a narcissist, which I have jokingly and cruelly called you before, but as a man who doesn’t really understand concepts of right and wrong. But I think you do have a good heart. Don’t stop wanting to be a better person. That’s really the start of a brand-new life, one you can be proud of.

P.S. I still haven’t gotten your check for the insurance claim. You know what? I’m not bitter about it. I never really asked you for that favor, but I think this does show a lot of your true character. All promises, but never serious about doing anything you promise. I also admit I’m starting to wonder whether your “rich” shtick is all a lie too.

I mean, a lot of people are “Famous” nowadays. Like Mike Tyson and Gary Busey are famous too but hardly worth any money. But please, save your money. I’m just fine taking care of myself.

For what it’s worth, you WERE very fun to talk to, I’ll give you credit for that. We always seem to have a very interesting conversations, however bizarre it may be!

Have a good year, kid.

Back to work today and wearing stuffy clothes, glasses and as lily white an outfit as possible, to make my patients feel at ease. Today I’m scheduled to meet a new couple for a relationship counseling session. It will be a good change of pace, since I have been way too easy on Byron, letting him overtake my mind. I’m far too old to be dealing with his shenanigans.

I also dropped him a text this morning, reminding him that I sent a message and that he ought to read it. Hopefully, that will get some things straight between us.

I sigh and push all that silliness out of my mind as I prepare for the session ahead. Their names are Bob and Tiffany and according to my notes, they are experiencing communication problems. Newlywed couple. This should be fairly easy, I’ve always found newlyweds to be more communicative than couples who have been married for decades. Their minds are more open, or at least that’s been my experience.

I page my secretary and give her the word. I clear my throat and assume my formal position as we begin the session.

In Bob and Tiffany walk…

HOLY SHIT! Bob sure looks familiar. That’s Byron all dressed up in slacks and a sports coat. And who the hell is with him? His WIFE? Dressed in a low-cut dress that shows way too much cleavage and belly button? What is going on?

“So you’re Bob, huh?” I ask in annoyance.

“Yeah,” Byron says, “and this is my wife.”

“So, you’re married?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been married for a long time. Her name is Terri.”

“My name is Tiffany!” she corrects him.

“Sorry, I meant Tiffany.”

“You don’t even know your wife’s name?”

“Sure I do. Tiffany!”

“And is Tiffany here going to corroborate your story?”

“Umm if she wants her money, she will.”

Tiffany cracks up laughing. “I am way too stoned for this!” she blabs.

“Okay, Byron. So, what I am sensing is that you went and hired an escort to pretend to be your wife. Am I right?”

“What choice did I have?” he says, grinning. “You wouldn’t see me, and you wouldn’t take me as a client. I had no choice but to get a fake wife and report to you for relationship counseling.”

“You’re an asshole!” I suddenly blurt out, looking quite pissed.

“Don’t disrespect me in front of my wife.”

“Get her out of here! Prostitutes are not welcomed in my office.”

“HEY!” she says defensively, “I am not a whore, I’m an escort, honey. The choice is always mine.”

I roll my eyes as Byron and his whore high-five each other.

“Did you pay her already?” I ask him.

“Of course.”

“So, you made your point. Now please ask her to leave. For god’s sake, Byron. If you want to talk to me just say so.”

“Well honey,” he says to Tiffany. “Thank you for a wonderful three hours of marriage.”

“Thank you, big daddy!”

I shake my head as I watch Tiffany leave. I glare at Byron who seems quite pleased with himself.

“This is your problem, right here. You think everything is a joke.”

“Not at all. I wanted to talk to you, you know for therapeutic reasons and you banned me. That’s racial discrimination.”

“How is it racist when you’re a white guy?”

“Reverse racism. White women hating white men.”

“Shut up. All right then, talk. I’ll give you fifteen minutes. What do you want to know? Why you drive people away? Why you alienate people? Because you pull stupid shit like this. Because you throw money at everything so that you can always get your way.”

“I agree.”

“Good! Now get out of here.”

“I still have fifteen minutes, right?”

I sigh and chortle to myself. What a dick, but a funny dick, I admit. “Fine. Fifteen minutes. What do you want to know?”

“What color are your panties? You know, since we’re not really a doctor-patient thing. I’m back to being a rich douche you won’t sleep with. I accept that.”

“It’s none of your business what I’m wearing. And no, we’re not doctor and patient. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. I’m not even interested in dating you.”

“Fine, I accept that. But let me ask you this. Am I attractive? If I was a nicer guy, you know, less of a douche, would I have a chance with you?”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I answer firmly.

“Really? So you do like a little bit of an asshole.”

“Nope. I don’t. Anything else?”

“What kind of man do you date? Just so I can understand what I’m lacking. And don’t say the opposite of me because the opposite of me is…well, I guess Angela Basset, since she’s black, female and really nice.”

“First answer me this, why do you want to know? Isn’t it enough that I say you’re not my type?”

“Is it the age difference? I mean, I basically want to know if there is something that disqualifies me from dating really amazing girls like you? Something I can change? Or is it something I can work on?”

I exhale slowly, a bit miffed, this time for his flawed logic instead of his ridiculous persistence. “Why are you obsessing over me so much? Let’s start with that. You could have any woman you want, if you’re as rich as you say you are.”

“You know why.”

“Why? Because of the conquest thing?”

“Absolutely not! I told you, I never really talk to the women I date. We just screw. We don’t talk, we don’t share anything besides bodies. And most of the women I do talk to, like seriously… well, they don’t want a relationship with me. So it’s not conquest but mutual masturbation. I’m just confused as to why, you know, everyone finds a really sweet girlfriend except me.”

“Oh really? That’s why you’re here?” I laugh. “Because you can’t find a girlfriend? I find that ridiculous.”

“Not at all. I could get a girlfriend for sure, I know that. Most girls would love me for my money, but what I want is a woman who I actually find interesting. And you’re interesting.”

I shake my head. I can’t even contemplate this. “It’s not the age thing.” I blush a little bit at the thought. I’ve honestly never even thought of dating a younger guy. I don’t think I’ve ever been propositioned by a younger man before him. I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to doing that, even if it does feel a bit scandalous. “Okay? That’s not it.” I respond.

“Oh, so you do dig younger hot bods!”

“Ahem!” I say with a disapproving glance.

“So, what is it then?”

“Honestly? And it’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think? So it’s not my smugness or arrogance or stubborn devotion to girls who dislike me?”

“No. It’s…that I don’t think we have anything in common.”

“We have a good conversation.”

“But we always talk about you.”

“Fine, tell me about yourself.”

“It’s none of your business!”

“It’s none of your business!” He mocks me by repeating my exact sentence.

“Okay, Byron. You got me there.”

“So, you’ve disqualified me instantly, without any sort of thought. I kind of want to know why. I deserve to know why.”

“I like…sweet guys.”

“What?”

“Like, sweet. Nice…not just nice, but you know, sentimental.”

“For real?” he says, raising his brow.

“Yes. I admire men who are open with their emotions.”

“I’m open.”

“Their positive emotions. Not the negativity.”

“Well, maybe I do share too much.”

“You like to be the center of attention, Byron. And I understand that. It’s the way you were raised and your lifestyle, if you’re as rich as you claim to be.”

He laughs. “But see that’s the thing. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a chance to be sweet, you know. To be a normal guy pursuing a girl. It’s all been so crazy. Maybe I like you because you’re real. Not a play or a party girl.”

“Well, all I can offer you is friendship. No friends with benefits, nothing like that.”

“Then I accept it,” he says sincerely. “I’d like to be your friend.”

“Fine,” I say nodding. “IF and only if, you stop pulling stunts like this. No more sneaking into my office or following me around town.”

“Agreed. That’s not what friends do. We’re best friends forever now, and I respect you.”

I laugh. “We’re not BEST friends, but friends yeah. I can manage that.”

“So, can I ask you something as a friend?”

I shake my head.

“Not sexual, promise.”

“Okay, what?”

“I want you to come with me to a Christmas party.”

“A Christmas party?”

“Yeah.”

“What? Some stripper thing…?”

“No,” he laughs. “Nothing weird or perverted. Just a Christmas party. It’s the season soon, you know.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why? Just as friends, remember? I like hanging out with you. I am OK with you friend-zoning me and I just want someone to come with me, someone nice.”

I giggle at the thought. “I’m not nice though. I’ve actually been quite difficult with you.”

“Nah, not at all,” he says with a smile. “I just have a habit of pushing things too far, don’t I? I sort of get that.”

“I just don’t…”

“Don’t what? You’re afraid I’m going to try something funny? Promise, no funny business. No kissing, grabbing, harassment of any kind. I just want one regular non-date with you. We’re friends.”

“Hmm…”

“I’ll behave, promise.”

“Who’s going to be there?”

“People I know. Weirdos but they’re my family.”

“You’re not announcing me as your girlfriend or something?”

“What did I just say? No funny business. Believe me, you will be shocked at how normal this encounter will be. No awkwardness, no slapping me in the face. Promise.”

I exhale, this time in a softer pace. I don’t hate the idea. In fact, when he’s promising to be good, he’s not actually that annoying or invasive.

“Come on. Won’t you be my neighbor?” he asks me with a Mister Rogers imitation.

I laugh hard and finally nod my head. “All right, one chance. Any more funny business and…”

“None. I assure you. I’ll pick you up. This Friday around seven, deal?”

I smile at him, with a slight sarcastic grin. I can’t help but feel a little suspicious, even though I admire his efforts. “I won’t be wearing anything sexy. In fact, I’m coming in my work clothes.”

“You can wear whatever you want as long as you come.”

I raise my eyebrow.

“Sorry, I made that sound sexual. Honest mistake, friend to friend.”

“All right. Let’s try it for the sake of the human experiment. If anything, just to prove to you that we’re not really compatible, you know, as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Why, that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me.”

Byron picked me up in a Ferrari. Yes, the same car he crashed my Honda with, not too long ago. It was a bit nostalgic, aside from a snarky. “Nice car, except for the fender…” comment, I didn’t harass him too much. I was trying to be nice, just like he was, even though I stayed true to my word and didn’t dress sexy or formal. I wore the same clothes I wore from work, which were classy enough but not sending any mixed messages.

I’ve always believed in being straightforward and not being a tease, especially with a guy who so obviously wears his heart on his sleeve, like Byron.

I have to admit, I was halfway expecting this whole thing to be a put-on or a gag. But to my surprise, he was completely honest about what this was and where we were going.

He neglected to mention one detail though and I realized it as we drove up to his parents’ mansion, which looked more like a European castle, he was not actually “rich”. Not rich like a scholarship preppie boy. No.

His family was obscenely wealthy, like the top tier of the world! I was at a loss of words when he began describing the luxury of what we were seeing.

Once we entered the premises, greeted by a full staff of butlers and maids, I was amazed at what I saw. Huge rooms and church-like ceilings. Exotic paintings on the wall, collector’s art and sculptures, carpets from all over the world, and dozens of “rich men” running around trying to look important for THIS FAMILY.

I flinched at the idea that I was literally visiting royalty. The Gallows family was filthy rich, like Downton Abby. The house itself must have been worth hundreds of millions. Not that I would ever claim to appraise such a ridiculously huge property.

I became nervous when I overheard the names of some of these elite members of society. Politicians, movie stars, philanthropists and celebrities that actually earned their status, and no B-listers anywhere in sight.

Not a surprise, the likes of Paris Hilton or even the Kardashians might feel out of place here. There was a very formal, dare I say, almost a humorless vibe. It seemed just the opposite of Byron’s playful attitude and youthful exuberance. These were people who earned a fortune and who…well, weren’t exactly inclined to share their wealth with anyone else.

Out of place?! I almost hid my face in embarrassment! I clammed up as soon as Byron began introducing me to some of his acquaintances. Who was I? I wasn’t even his official date!

And now, here I am sitting in the library, waiting for my friend and non-date to rescue me from this luxurious vision of Hell.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, coming back after a good ten-minute absence.

“Jesus, I was dying in here! I was almost afraid someone was going to call the cops on me, thinking I was trespassing.”

He laughs. “Nah, believe me, it’s impossible to sneak in here with all the security outside. You were with me, that’s how you got in.”

“Byron, who are these people?”

“Honestly? A bunch of rich assholes,” he laughs.

“Seriously.”

“Politicians, investors, a few movie stars, CEOs, mysterious men with shady connections. Each one creepier than the last, right?”

“You’re so…lackadaisical about it, aren’t you? Part of me thinks that none of this house seems like you at all.”

“It’s my family’s house. So technically I’m still listed as living here. But I rarely ever come here on account of, well, the weirdness of these people. I usually just live in my vacation homes most days of the year, and of course, really expensive hotels in Europe.”

“What do you do for work?”

“Ah, the billion-dollar question. I believe the official title is hedge fund investor.”

“Did you say billions? I mean, how much is your family worth?”

“Let’s just say, if my family heard you ask me that, they would escort you out!”

“You’re not kidding. Wow. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m not one of those girls impressed by money.”

“Hmm…” he says giving me a smirk.

“I’m not. I just had no idea you were like Catholic Church level rich.”

He laughs hard. “Well, believe me, I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I was born into this life. I’ll be damned if I know what to do with my inheritance. I usually just nod when my father speaks, pretending like I know what I’m talking about.”

“So, all you do is investments?”

“Yeah, I mean I play the stock market. I invest in companies-”

“But let me guess. You mostly cruise around looking for girls and partying the night away?”

“What can I say?” he winks. “I swear, I’ll start taking things seriously when I hit thirty. Just let me ruin my body with alcohol and drugs, so I can say that I’ve lived a little before I settled.”

I laugh and smile, but it’s actually a defense at this point. I’m actually scared to death that he has the power over my life and death. Who am I kidding? When people this rich want something, who in their right mind says no? I almost feel in debt to Byron for keeping me safe from these tycoons and sharks.

“I know it feels weird. Believe me, it feels weird to me too,” he says. “That’s why I wanted you to come with me. You’re the only adult I know.” He laughs heartily. “Well, the only person I’ve spoken to in the last two weeks who didn’t want something from me. I figured maybe your awesome therapist-self would know how to work with some of these people.”

“I’m a therapist!” I laugh, “not a billionaire duchess.”

Who is this guy? I stare at Byron, not having the slightest clue of who he is or what I’m doing here in this strange world. I look at his face. Distracted. Uncomfortable. Charming and boyish in some way. Handsome, but I force myself not to think anything sexual or romantic. I’ve already decided this relationship is non-existent. I want to be his friend or maybe I don’t. Not if friendship with him means going to strange places like this.

Still, I find this softer side of Byron fascinating as a therapist. He’s not really reveling in fame or wealth. He’s detached from everything his family has and is. In fact, the only connection he seems to have with is…

“Ah, there you are,” he said, waving over an older man who I assume is the butler or something.

“Hello Byron,” the old man says, grinning wide.

“Hey dad, this is Laura. Laura Katt.”

My eyes shoot open and my mouth drops. I am shocked and terrified to be standing in front of the patriarch of the Gallows family. What a fast and intimate introduction! I didn’t even know who the man was!

I smile and grab my cheek, nodding a bit too nervously. “HEY!” I smile wide and feel my heart pounding. This man, he’s probably one of the planet’s most well-connected men. Someone I never even thought I would ever meet.

“Hi! Sorry, I didn’t realize uh…I’m Laura Katt.”

“I know,” he says with a droll smile. “My son just told me. I’m Alfred Gallows.”

“Yes! Uhhh, hey there! This is a fascinating party. I mean, gathering. Event”

Alfred laughs super softly, a bit of a rich man’s reaction. I’m definitely making a fool of myself.

“Is Laura a friend of yours?” Alfred says.

“She’s actually my…” he flinches, watching me. “Therapist.” He smiles.

“Ah, good to know. I always told him he needed a therapist!” Alfred smiles at me.

We all crack up, me obviously laughing nervously.

“Yeah, I figured I’d go classy this time. No flings or chicks from a bar. An actual person from my life who matters.” He nods, looking past me, and instead right into his father’s face. For once he’s not trying to impress me, but his dad.

“I’m happy to meet you,” Alfred says warmly. “Do please wait for my wife. I think she would be most intrigued to meet you as well.”

“Of course, sure.”

I watch Alfred in silent respect. He’s in his fifties with white hair but a strong frame. He certainly has Byron’s charisma when he talks, but of course without all the silly boyish-charms. And maybe that’s what makes Byron so unique among his peers.

“Hello!” an older woman says, coming right up to me and giving me a half-hug tap. She’s dressed extravagantly, graying brown hair and all made up like she’s ready to be on television.

“Oh hey!”

“This is my mother, Caitlynn,” Byron says. “Mom. This is Laura Katt, my therapist.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says sincerely, looking into my eyes and smiling. “I have a therapist too. You people do good work.”

“Thanks. So do you!” I say, a bit daftly.

“How long have you and Byron been uh…doing the therapist thing?” she flinches.

Alfred raises his brow. I look around at everyone frantically. Oh god! Do they think we’re having sex? That would be the most unprofessional thing if we were actually in therapy. Who knows what these people think of me!

“Just recently,” I say, trying my very best to NOT gaze into Byron’s eyes and make them think I’m his secret girlfriend. I’m not even his therapist. God, what am I doing here?!

I smile at Byron, wanting to strangle him. And…

Dammit! Actually, feeling a small, tiny, pang of attraction to him. Just the idea of being his girl, makes me feel…shy. A feeling that’s almost alien to me.

“Yeah, uh…I’ve been confiding in her about my social life. About all the mistakes I seem to make in dating.”

“You’re young,” Alfred says with a nod. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah, that’s what people tell me.”

“Especially with such a qualified therapist as Laura here,” Caitlynn says with a friendly smile.

“Uh, thanks! We try.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Alfred says blankly. “I have to go see Bill. There’s been an issue in South Africa. I trust that doesn’t interest you.” He smiles at Byron.

“No, not at all, Dad,” he replies sarcastically. His parents walk away, and he guides me away back to the library.

We both chuckle like high school friends. “What was that?”

“I dunno. That was weird, right?”

“I mean, so unexpected. What were they thinking of me?”

“Hey, you did fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. Actually, most of my friends just embarrass me in front of my parents. You actually handled yourself really well. Professional. A little nervous, but I think they actually believed you were my therapist.”

“Well, that’s good! You think they liked me?”

“Oh yeah. To be completely honest, I’m pretty sure they think we’re sleeping together.”

I tilt my head, still smirking.

“But they DO believe you’re a licensed therapist! If that’s any consolation.”

“That’s terrible!” I laugh again. “I would never do that.”

“Yeah well, welcome to the Elite. Where everybody does every terrible thing and gets away with it.”

He smiles softly but then frowns, looking a bit forlorn.

“Why the sad face?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“No, what?”

“Hold that thought,” he says finally lighting up again. “It’s dinner time. Or actually, they call it Evening Snack. But it’s going to be better than any dinner you’ve had this year, promise!”

He chuckles like a teenager, and he’s not too far from being one. The funny thing here is that even I feel young again, being linked with such a superstar, and feeling socially awkward for the first time in years.

Dinner, or Evening Snack, was fantastic. Seven-course meal and the most exquisite authentic Italian food I’ve ever tasted. I had to grit my teeth to NOT over-praise the food and accidentally reveal how ’lower middle-class’ I really was.

Byron is driving me home. I look over and smile at him, wondering what he’s thinking.

He says nothing but keeps his eyes focused on the road. I have to admit, I’m surprised at how well behaved he was tonight. I halfway expected him to grab me for a kiss or make some lewd sexual comments. Just to toy with me, just to feel that power trip. But to my surprise, he was a perfect gentleman. In fact, even now as he drives me home he seems to be grateful, relieved and even a little sentimental over how nice the evening turned out.

“Thank you,” I say with caution.

“For what?”

“For being a good guy, all through the night. Assuming, of course, you don’t do something terrible between now and when I unlock my door.” I laugh.

“Nah,” he says with a grin. “I’m glad you came with me. I guess I wanted to make it up to you, you know. For all the come-ons, all the antics. Maybe I just wanted to show you I’m not the asshole you think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Byron.”

“Really?”

“I never thought you were an asshole.”

“Come on.”

“Okay, when we first met and argued about the car, I might have thought you were pretty close to being an asshole.”

“There you go!”

“But honestly? I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t like you. I would just cease all communication if I didn’t like you or felt afraid of you.”

“Well, that’s good. I like being friends.”

“I like being friends too.”

“I think my family is impressed. Not by you, I mean. Not like you’re my girlfriend or anything. But I think my dad actually treated me differently tonight, you know?”

“Different how?”

“Like uh, …maybe he treated me with respect. You know, I think he’s always felt that my friends were punks, jackasses, and stupid kids. He didn’t like any of my friends. He thought they were bringing me down. Maybe he likes the idea of me hanging around classier people for a change.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. And I do trust that you will let him know we’re not a couple. Right?”

“Oh…”

“Seriously,” I say with a warning. “My job would be in jeopardy if there was even a doubt that I was taking advantage of my clients.”

“Ah, I understand. Okay, I’ll let him know.”

“Thank you.”

He remains quiet, a grateful smile still on his face. He’s not even being a jerk about it, for once. He could slap me back, suggesting that I should take him on as a therapist now that we’ve lied about it, but he doesn’t say a word.

Maybe he has finally learned some respect, if not for all women, then at least for a woman who he knows actually cares about him.

Having coffee and tea with mom, Eleanor Katt has reminded me of how important family is. She’s the one who always drinks tea and I drink coffee. But I treasure these moments. Little wonder then that I saw an emotional side of Byron two nights ago. We are both protective of our parents. I think he was honestly nervous about how his parents would receive me. He wanted to impress them, and he wanted to impress me.

And all in the spirit of Christmas, which of course, my mother loves. Holidays for us have always been emotional. The unity of family, even despite all our differences, Christmas trees and family dinners bring us together.

Maybe that’s why my night with Byron was so special. So, becoming of an actual friendship. It felt kind and emphasized the point of Christmas. Not the religious symbols or the commercial element, but the decency, the morality, of humankind coming together for at least one night to give thanks for what we have.

Of course, mom continues to be fixated on the surface, as she always does. She’s the one worried about buying everyone presents and sending every last associate of our family Christmas cards. But at least she understands the importance of the holidays.

“So…speaking of family,” she says with a smile. “Please tell me you’re interested in someone.”

I laugh out loud.

“I said interested,” she says. “I don’t want to hear about any one-night stands.”

“Mother, I don’t have one-night stands.”

“Oh? Is that a new thing?”

“It’s somewhat new. In the sense that I’m no longer a teenager! I’m a thirty-four year old woman.”

“Well, that’s good. But I really do think you should get serious about someone. And I’m not just saying that for selfish reasons.”

“Yeah, I suspect you want grandchildren. Just a vague suspicion, considering how you always hint at it when we talk.”

“It’s not that. It’s just that I read a story the other day, saying that if women don’t get married before forty, you know, they miss their chance.”

“Oh, give me a break! Have you been reading all those tabloids on Facebook again?”

“Well I don’t remember where I read it, but you have to admit they have a point. If you don’t get serious about finding someone now, when you’re still young, then you’re going to be a forty or fifty-year-old woman. And believe me, fifty-year-old men are nothing to write home about. They’re all alcoholic grumpy old men!”

I laugh again. “Well, I believe you there.”

“So? Not even looking?”

“Ah…I am looking.”

“Not that married guy you were telling me about?”

“NO, of course not. That was years ago, mother. And nothing ever happened, remember?”

“Then who is he?”

“Well, it’s not like we’re seriously dating. We just had one date.”

“And you liked him?”

“Sort of. I have mixed emotions about him. I mean, I’m not opposed to getting married, but I have high standards.”

“Well, that’s good. You shouldn’t settle. There are many men who would be happy to have a woman as successful and independent as you are.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what’s this guy like?”

“Umm, what is he like? He’s -”

“Successful? Mysterious? Tall, dark and handsome?”

“I don’t think mysterious is the right word to describe Byron.”

“Byron? Sounds like a king or a prince.”

“You could say that. His family is…uh…absurdly rich.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No. And before you say it, I am NOT looking for a rich guy.”

“I was just about to say! Those rich guys be careful of them. They all have secrets!”

“Well everyone has a few secrets. Even simple folk like us, right?”

“I don’t have any secrets,” mother says sipping her tea. “My life has always been an open book. Maybe that’s just our generation though.”

“I’m sure there are some things you wouldn’t tell me,” I say with a smile.

“I don’t know what.” She gives a condemning face. “Just be careful. He sounds mysterious and rich, and those guys are bad news.”

“Yeah like I said, I’m not interested seriously. But I am looking. And that’s a start, right?”

We finish the conversation on a happy note and go back to our tea and coffee.

Byron! Just when I think I’ve figured him out, and just when I think I’ve disqualified him for all the right reasons, he pulls a stunt like this. I call him on the phone while on my work break, not sure if I want to scream at him or slap him. Or just sit there and laugh at him for being such a silly goose.

“Yeah?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He laughs, and I can’t help but mirror his jolly mood.

“I’m serious.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I do?”

“Well, I was paying my bills today. And behold! I log into my account and discover that my car is paid off.”

“Really?”

“And my mortgage is paid off.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah that’s weird, isn’t it? Nice try. I asked who made the payment and they gave your family’s name and corporation. Coincidence? I think not.”

“Ah, I guess I left a trail behind, didn’t I? Damn, I’d make a lousy criminal.”

“Yeah. Let’s get back to the issue at hand. Why in the world did you do that?”

“Was that sexual harassment?”

“No, it was not. But it was a kindness I did not ask for.”

“So what? You complained that I never paid that insurance debt. So I paid you back what I owed you.”

“NO, one hundred grand is not what you owed me!”

“Eh, consider it uh…you know, a Christmas bonus.”

“A Christmas bonus? Are you paying off all of my major debts?”

“Don’t sweat it. Didn’t I always say, it was the principle and not the money?”

“Yeah but…” I laugh in disbelief.

“How many hours of sleep did you lose this month because you were worried about losing your house or losing your car? Not that a Honda Accord is a great car, kind of a cheap little thing.”

“Haw-haw!” I say sarcastically.

“I remembered what you said. Contrary to popular belief, not all men my age have ADHD. I remember everything people say to me, I take mental notes.”

“Yeah, and? You just spoil everybody you know with money they haven’t earned?”

“You know this about me, I throw money at things I like. Sometimes I just do it out of laziness, sometimes because my conscience tells me I should.”

“Uh huh! And why did you do it with me? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t even imply it.”

“Well, …you did accuse me of faking my whole billionaire status just because I took a bit longer to pay the insurance claim. Which I never did. Do you want me to pay that too?”

I laugh hard but am still mad at him. “I want you to pay my insurance claim and take back the hundred grand you just dumped on me.”

“Oh, come on. No one’s that crazy.”

“I’m not crazy, Byron. I just have high standards and I don’t like being in debt to people.”

“It’s not a debt.”

“Oh really? So, you didn’t give me that money with some expectation?”

He laughs this time. “Is that what you think? That I’m paying you for sex? Trying to bribe you into doing something you don’t want to do, would be like trying to make love to a brick wall. Believe me, I’m not that stupid.”

“So why did you do it?”

He inhales and thinks it over, “Because it’s just money. And because I really enjoyed our time at the Christmas family visit.”

“I enjoyed it too, Byron. But you didn’t owe me anything. We just had a good time.”

“Right. And I paid-off your debt because I felt like it. Nothing gained, nothing expected. The pleasure of paying off your debt made me smile.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well maybe you’re just too damn cynical then,” he says with a snarky voice. “Accept the gift.”

“No.”

“Fine, then I’m going to start telling you how much I fantasize about you and make things really awkward. And our friendship experiment will be over. All because you wouldn’t just accept a compliment.”

“A compliment! Not an insane amount of money-”

“Oh come on!” he says tiredly. “You know, all my life I’ve seen rich old white men doing stupid things with their money. Investing in wars, bankrupting small businesses, bribing people to keep quiet, and what not. I once knew a guy that literally paid a hundred grand just to ruin his ex-wife’s life. All so he could spend another fifty grand on wooing some teenage bride that didn’t know any better. This is what people do with money.”

I listen closely.

“Well, why not do something practical with it? Something good. Something that someone else will really appreciate, something that actually means something. I could be like one of these rich douches and start my own private foundation because that’s was serious billionaires do, you know. Or I could just give the money to people who really need it.”

I sigh in frustration. It feels so wrong to accept the money. I’ll bet my mother would have a cow if I told her I was even thinking about doing it. But what he says makes sense. And oh God, I was just thinking I can’t afford the car payment this month.

This answers every prayer, every Christmas miracle, I hoped for. But it still feels wrong.

“I just…don’t want to take advantage of you, Byron,” I say softly, feeling bad for him. It’s like he always says, he throws money at people, at things, because he doesn’t know how else to deal with life.

“You’re not,” he says firmly. “I know I’m not buying sex from you. You’re not indebted to me. Just consider it a friendly gesture. You know, a reward from the universe for being a good person and giving a lonely boy a listening ear, okay?”

“All right,” I say quietly, a little ashamed but more than anything, just so eager to make him happy. How else do you make such an eccentric person happy than to let him be who he wants to be?

Maybe I don’t want to date Byron. Maybe there are multiple limits I would put on his friendship, because I know he’s going to try to overstep his boundaries. But I do want him in my life if he’s this eager to help. This interested in being my friend.

Besides, like I once told him, he sure as hell can afford it. And maybe it’s about time that the notoriously rich and despised Gallows family does some good for the world for a change.

“All right,” I say shyly. “I accept it…and I thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart.”

“You’re welcome,” he says happily.

“I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you. Or give you what you want.”

“That’s called the Christmas spirit!” he laughs, a little too sarcastically.

But before I can respond, he says goodbye.

What a tease, what a silly man he is. But hell! If every man, if every rich man were more like Byron and less like…well, all the rest of them, then the whole world would look a lot more like Christmas season.