Damn, the music in this place is loud. I work my way back from the bar, drinks in hard. Tom is sitting on the edge of the booth, long legs stretched out, looking remarkably relaxed for someone who supposedly never goes out. We’ve arrived early, and there’s no-one else from the firm here yet; Tom said that he’s going to make a point of socializing more from now on.

As I approach the table, Tom looks up and smiles. Looking at him like that, I know that this is where I want to be.

For a moment, I think guiltily about the email I sent to Dana, the reporter, telling her all about the details of the deal and trying to get it called off. I never got a reply, and I guess they just dismissed it as a fake, but knowing that I did it without telling Tom seems like a betrayal.

“Cosmopolitan. Drink of the gods. Or, more likely, goddesses.” I plonk one down in front of him. He takes the stem of the glass carefully between thumb and forefinger and stares at it intently.

“So, you’re telling me you bought Billy one of these, huh?”

I smile. “Well, yeah, but he didn’t drink it. He regarded it pretty much like you’d regard a poisonous snake, and then asked politely for a beer.”

“Yep, that sounds about right. I, on the other hand, am a much more rounded individual.”

“You say that, but I notice you haven’t taken a drink yet.” I wag my finger at him. “You should be open to new experiences.”

“Mmmm. Very well.” Tom picks up the glass and sips it. After a moment, he looks at me. “Actually, it’s pretty good. I like it.”

I frown. “You better not be humoring me, Tom Macaulay. I tell you now.”

“Would I do that?” He makes a who-me face. “That’s more than my job’s worth.” Taking my hand, he kisses my fingertips lightly. “Besides, if this is the source of your abilities, I’m thinking about making them mandatory for the team.”

I hit him—lightly—and suck on my swizzle stick. “Are you happy to be here?”

He nods. “Yes, absolutely. So many times I’ve been working when my team’s been out socializing, I think they didn’t even believe I had a social life until I showed up last week. So it’s good to surprise them now and again.” He hasn’t let go of my hand, but a shadow falls over the table, and I feel him stiffen.

“Well, Tom! Great to see you out, buddy!” A big guy with slicked-back hair in a silk suit is standing at the table, beaming at us. Tom puts my hand carefully on the table. “Evening, Rick.” From the tone of his voice, I can tell that this isn’t someone he’s delighted to see.

“Never thought I’d see the great Dr. Macaulay out drinking with the boys, now, did I? Or,” he pauses with leaden timing, “the girls, I guess. Are you going to introduce me to your little lady?”

Little lady? Screw you, buddy. I’m about to respond, but Tom gets in ahead of me.

“Rick, this is Ronnie. Ronnie, this is Rick Parsons from Global Finance.” Tom’s voice is carefully controlled, and his lips are tightly pressed together.

“It’s a puh-leasure to meet you, Ronnie.” Rick proffers a hand, and I shake it. “So, you guys know each other from…” This guy is really beginning to annoy me, but Tom shoots me a warning look.

“Ronnie works for me, Rick. She’s part of my team.”

Rick guffaws with pleasure. “Hoo-wee! Very impressive, Tom, my man!” He’s evidently about to launch into something unpleasant, but Tom cuts him off.

“Your team here with you, Rick? They must be missing you.”

“Sure are, Tommy-boy. Just over there.” He gestures to a group of men dressed in identical suits. They look like they’re about to compete to see who’s got the most expensive business card. He bends down and puts his face close to me. “You should give ‘em a little wave, darling. You might be working for us pretty soon if this deal of Tom’s isn’t a rip-roaring success on the day you launch it. You’ve sure got a heap of investors crowdin’ to get in on it. Suckers. They think it’s guaranteed money, but we all know it’s going to come down to those first four hours, right? Win or lose, all right there.”

Tom drums his fingers on the table. “That may be, Rick. That may be. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Well, Tom, there’s something else.” Rick’s evidently been building up to this for some time. “I hear you’re a pretty fair game player, from some of your team.”

“You do.” Tom’s face is carefully expressionless.

“I sure do, Tommy-boy. I sure do. In fact, I hear that you’re quite something when it comes to Liar’s Poker.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I’m thinking to myself, well, if Tom’s that hot, maybe he’d like to play a hand with me.”

Tom shakes his head. “Not a chance, Rick. I’m done.”

“Really? Don’t tell me that big bad Tom Macaulay has lost his nerve? Pressure getting to you, huh?” Rick leers, and I find myself thinking I really want to hit this guy right now.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just grown out of it.”

“Grown out of it, huh?” Rick is undeterred. “Come on, Tommy-boy. One round. One hundred thousand. No regrets.”

“No, Rick. It’s not a game to me any more.”

Rick chortles, and slaps his sides in a mock gesture of mirth. “Never thought I’d see the day when I heard you say that. Why, you’re all over the Internet talking about how this is the greatest game there is!”

Tom shrugs. “Everyone makes mistakes, Rick. Even me.” His eyes twinkle. “As hard as that might be for you and Global Finance to believe.”

“You know what, Tommy-boy? I think you’ve gone soft.” Rick’s voice is hard now, and the faux-joviality has gone. “I think you’ve lost your edge, and you’re chicken. You’re afraid to lose. Come on. Prove me wrong.”

Tom slaps the table, and stands up. His eyes are angry, and his hands, by his sides, are in fists. He raises one hand in front of Rick’s grinning face. “You know what, Rick? I will do that.”

Rick laughs. “I knew I’d get you sooner—”

“One hundred thousand, huh?” Tom’s face is unreadable. “I’ll lose a hundred thousand, right now, on the spot. But not how you think.” He reaches for his wallet, and pulls out a business card. “Thing is, Rick, this isn’t a game to a lot of people. It’s real money, real lives. And I have someone,” scribbling on the piece of paper, “very close to me to thank for opening my eyes to that.” He holds up the piece of paper, and in the light I can see what’s written on it:

Tom Macaulay. One hundred thousand US dollars, to a charity chosen by Rick Parsons.

He tucks the card into Rick’s top pocket. “So there you go. There’s your hundred thousand. Call the office tomorrow, when you’ve decided what charity you’d like, and they’ll make it happen. I suggest Women’s Refuge, or the SPCA. But, really, it’s up to you. You’re the—” a pause, in which I can hear quotes forming in the air between them, “winner.”

Rick goes to open his mouth, and Tom holds up a finger. “Shush now. No regrets. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and dance with my girl. Take care, Rick.”

Before anyone can speak, he leads me out of the booth, and onto the dance floor. Rick watches us as we go, but it looks like he finally doesn’t have anything to say.

* * *

On the dance floor, it’s dark, and I can feel Tom’s lean body against me. I put my arms around his neck again, just like in his office, and enjoy the feeling of holding him.

“So I’m your girl now, huh?”

He nods. “Damn right. If that’s what you want to be. Now, and for as long as you want.”

“Yeah. I do. Now, and for as long as can be. What happens when other people find out?”

“Hah. Mike and Billy will be over the moon; I never could shut them up about being single. They also don’t give a damn about company regulations, so it’s not like they’re going to tell anyone. Neither will the rest of the team.”

I look over at the booth, but Rick has gone. “You did something very kind there.”

Tom shakes his head. “I did something I should have done years ago. That guy’s an asshole, but in truth, he wasn’t so very far from me.” He bends closer to me, and whispers in my ear. “You opened my eyes, Ronnie. Because of you, I’m more than what I used to be. I’m more than I could ever have been without you.”

I look up, and kiss him as hard as I can. “You’re quite something, Tom Macaulay.”

“So the hell are you, Ronnie Haas.” We sway together on the floor, my arms tight around his neck, his hands on my hips, pulling me into him.

* * *

My phone buzzes, once, twice, insistently. I reluctantly pull myself away from Tom, and fish it out of my pants. It’s an email from Barbara, the head of the trainee program:

Dear Ms. Haas:

Congratulations. You have been offered a position with Walters Capital. Full details will be provided from Human Resources shortly. Allow me to wish you the best in your new role.

I stare at my screen, unable to take my eyes off it. Tom, seeing my face, puts his arm around me with a concerned look. “What’s going on?”

I show him the message, and he smiles. “I never doubted that for a second. You’ll be a great asset. I’m only sorry I won’t be here to get the benefit of your,” a smirk, “experience.”

I throw my arms around him again, and kiss him. “God damn you. You’d better not start thinking this means you can order me around as a permanent employee.”

He gives me the who-me look again. “You do realize the idea is that I’m supposed to be ordering you around, don’t you?”

“Maybe. I’ll defer to your authority just this once.” Another kiss on his lips, hard. “But, for now, dance with me. This weekend, something very important.”

“Mmhmm?” Tom crooks an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah. I want you to have dinner with my parents. You’d better get prepared.”