Dad seems unusually chirpier lately. It sure is a 180-degree change from last week, when he seemed angry at the world. Maybe it's no coincidence that the same week that arrogant prick Nate Jiggur finally left me alone, dad lightened up. No one to chase me around and make me uncomfortable…no reason for dad to be all protective and gruff. Seems believable.

But part of me still wonders. Nate promised me he wouldn’t talk to me anymore, but did he say something to dad? Dad seems completely mute on the subject. Even when I casually mention Nate’s name he deliberately avoids speaking. Not a word. As if Nate doesn’t exist. Something’s up.

We’ve just finished totaling up the receipts for the week and by now, dad should be stressing, fussing and grabbing what little hair he has left in frustration. More debt, more retirement worries. Another frantic conversation about what the future holds.

“Did pretty good this week!” dad says merrily, stuffing the checks and credit card receipts into an envelope, and then putting the cash into a wallet.

That seems strange. I was here all week and I’d say this was a fairly average week. We made enough to eat but not enough to make a dent in our family’s debt. Dad doesn’t even know that I know. But I’m not stupid…I’ve seen the books. I’ve even seen the threatening letters from the IRS and credit card companies, even though he thinks he can hide those from me. I know everything about this store and this family.

And we are not having a pretty good week!

“I think our debt is getting out of hand,” I say, testing him and looking into his lying eyes. “What are we going to do?”

“What are you talking about?” he says, keeping his eyes to the checkbook.

“I think we’re not making nearly enough profit, especially for this time of year. I think we need to think back up plan.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says mysteriously. “I have a good feeling.”

“A good feeling? Well, I don’t. I think there’s a problem, dad.”

“Business has been better this year, especially compared to last year. We’re going to be okay.”

“Well…”

“Jesus is taking care of us.”

I send him a frosty look. That just seems downright insulting. I mean, I get that my dad believes, and maybe I do too…but he’s NEVER brought God into this. Not once.

“You really believe that?”

“Look,” he says, still smiling but trying to weasel out of this conversation. “Just have a little faith in your old man.”

I frown at him and drop the conversations. Of course, I have faith. But I can also sense false hope coming from a mile away.

We seem to have miraculously recovered. And dad thinks I don’t remember Nate’s very kind offer to buy the business…just so he could butt into my life yet again.

I walk into the maintenance backroom, eager to get away from dad and his Jesus miracle and ready to tear Nate a new hole. I grab my phone and call his number just thinking of the right swear word to use…and how many times!

“This is Nate. I ain’t here. I’m NOWHERE. I’m not on the internet. Not on the phone. Not in the park or on a flight, not even at home. Nate is minding his own damn business for a change.”

I roll my eyes at his self-loathing phone message and wait impatiently for the beep.

“Sorry,” the robotic voice says. “This inbox is full.”

“Goddamn it, Nate!”

He thinks he’s won this game. But bullshit on that. If he wants to play, I’ll play. But I’m going to kick his ass and leave him in the fucking mud! If he wants to avoid me on the phone and block my texts, I’ll go to meet him in person.

I know where he’s going to be tomorrow night. Signing autographs in Clint Falls, a small town in East Texas. Not that I’m stalking him.

Not that I haven’t thought of meeting him and fucking his brains out again.

Yeah…it’s crossed my mind. But I have to be strong. I can’t let him manipulate me. I’ve fought my whole life to reclaim my dignity after that rat bastard stole it from me. I can’t afford to lose to Nate on this!

If he broke his promise to me, if he betrayed me by buying my family’s store, I will strangle that motherfucker!

“Well, well, well!” Nate says, giving me a stupid grin, as I stand before him in front of his table and behind a crowd of fans, folding my arms. Letting him know I’m the only one here who doesn’t worship him…and the only one here who has some serious shit on his reputation.

“Don’t well well well me,” I say calmly. “I’m here to talk to you.”

“Interesting. Because the way I understand it…” he says with a cocky smirk, “We have nothing to talk about. I’m keeping fifty yards away from you, just like you asked.”

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, Miss,” he says. “Don’t hold up the line.”

I send him a threatening glare…but with a smirk of my own. “Nate, I can make this as professional or as embarrassing as you want.”

He sighs in surrender, but can’t wipe the smile off his face.

“Hey everybody!” I scream to the people behind me. “Nate Jiggur, that fucking asshole, just signed my book!”

The crowd of people cheer.

“Okay, you win,” he says tilting his head. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere private is fine.”

“Damn, this is my lucky night.”

“Don’t be a smart ass. You know what this is about.”

“Do I?”

Nate stands up and waves over his bodyguard, explaining the situation and why he needs a recess. Nate signals to me, suggesting I go back behind the wall.

I walk forward and then back into the private room, ignoring the commotion of the crowd. They’re starting to boo Nate for making them wait longer for an autograph. Oh honey, if they only knew why Nate deserved to get booed.

I wait impatiently…stomping my foot and groaning, hating the very idea of going back to see this guy. He hasn’t won. I DON’T want him. But he sure as hell better have a good excuse.

Finally, Nate walks into the room and shuts the door behind him.

“What the fuck did you do?” I blurt out.

“Well-?”

“And don’t play dumb with me. My father already told me.”

“Dammit,” he says, looking to the side and biting his lip.

“So?”

“What? It’s just money…”

“Aha! So you admit it!”

“What? I thought you said your father…”

I lower my eyes in judgment.

“Damn it again!” he says. “I shoulda’ seen that coming.”

“Just confess.”

“I didn’t buy the store, I didn’t break my promise,” he says, staring straight ahead—not lying.

“Really? Then what?”

“I loaned your father some money.”

“You what? Why? We can’t pay you back-!”

“I gave it to him,” he clarifies with a firm jaw and stiff lips. I invested in the business. That’s all. He owes me nothing.”

The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. I blink a few times and then lose all my ire. I stare at him in awe…almost embarrassment.

“Why…Why Nate?”

“Because I wanted to do a good thing,” he says with a brooding face. “It has nothing to do with you. As far as I’m concerned, we got nothing more to say.”

“…Yeah but you still approached him, you still-”

“NO. He approached me. That was the deal I offered him. Non-repayable loan and no mention of this to Amanda. That was the deal.”

“God,” I mutter, breaking my stare and hiding my frustration in my hands. “I knew it. I knew he was acting weird.”

“Now you know. I got a show to do.”

“Nate…”

“What?”

“Thank you.” I bring myself to look at him again. Not in judgment, not in lust, not in spite. Just looking at him, one on one, as someone I actually see. Someone I know. Someone I may even respect. “You didn’t have to do that. My dad shouldn’t have asked.”

“Hey, I was happy to do it. I told you, I’ve always loved music. And every once in a while I like to pretend I’m a decent human being. But hey, don’t say stuff like that about in public. Got an image to uphold.”

“Right,” I say, smiling. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your show.”

“I’m sorry, Amanda,” he says, meeting my eyes and humbling himself. “I came on too strong before. I didn’t…I didn’t know how to treat you. I’ve only ever known…you know…how to treat women that leave. I don’t know what to do to impress you.”

I listen closely, but I don’t know what to think. This is a rare showing of his genuine soul. Not a monster or a money-obsessed fool. Just a confused boy who plays the game people want him to play.

“You’ve impressed me, Nate,” I say tiredly. “I really didn’t expect this from you.” But I shrug, not really having much else to give him. “So what else do you want?”

“Just answer me this. Why did you come to me if you didn’t like me? Why didn’t you just slap my face and never see me again?”

“Because Nate,” I say softly. “Because I do like you. And I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

He steps backward and looks down to the floor, trying to figure out what I just told him.

“You told me that you don’t understand what you’re doing…how to talk to me?” I say, looking into his wounded but hopeful eyes. “Well neither do I. I’ve never figured out how I should act or what men really want from me…you know, after they leave.”

“So…we’re just two fools in way over our heads here?”

“Yeah, looks like that.”

“All right, how about we start over?” he says meekly. “No more sex. No more playing or posing. Just one date together. Just to see if we both like each other or not. Maybe it was all just a fluke. But just in case it’s not, maybe we owe it to ourselves to find out the truth. I mean…I don’t know about you, Amanda, but I don’t like to make mistakes. And what we had doesn’t feel like a mistake. Now I’m not saying I know what it is…but maybe it’s the kind of thing I don’t want to walk away from.”

“I don’t know…” I say, looking around, always thinking of an easy way out. But am I rejecting him? Or am I just walking away from life? I really don’t know the difference anymore.

“I’m not going to keep begging,” he says. “At some point, we have to either agree to walk away or agree to give this a real try. Just look in your heart and give me the word.”

My heart? What does my heart say? I can barely feel it beating, barely remember what it’s like to care about someone, to trust someone. My heart is telling me to walk away. That it can’t take another break.

But for my mind is giving me a different story. That part of me is telling me something new.

You can’t punish yourself forever. Life is passing you by.

“Okay, Nate. Maybe just one time. But no strings.”

“No strings!” he says excitedly. “I’m going to be as celibate as the Pope at a Star Trek convention…whatever that means.”

I finally laugh. “Whatever. Where should we go though? “How about…”

“How about-?”

“Ohh, maybe we were both thinking the same thing!” I reply.

"Okay on three," he says. "Let's say what we're thinking. One, two, three."

"Al Biernat's."

“Le Meurice.”

“Ohh I guess we weren’t thinking the same thing!” I nervously wave my hand, feeling like this is something close to a real date. It’s been so long…

“Yeah sure. Either way,” he says. They both sound French, right?”

"Oh, you want French food?"

"I thought Al Biernat's was a French restaurant?"

"Well…they serve steak. It's supposed to be this great, fancy place, you know." I laugh at the thought. "But I'm not one of those girls. Besides, I don't mind paying my own way."

“No, no, my treat…and I insist.”

“Come on, Nate. Don’t be a baby. I can pay for myself.”

“Oh really?” he laughs. “Okay, so your part of the tab is about two grand.”

“WHAT? Why?”

“Well including airfare?”

"What are you talking about? I said Al Biernat's!"

"Is this in Paris or Venice? Le Meurice is in Paris. And I never heard of Al Biernat's but I don't think it's anywhere near as good as Le Meurice!"

I lose my smile and fold my arms. “Paris? Paris, Texas, I assume? Because I know you did not just suggest we go to Paris, France for our first date.”

“Why?” he laughs. “What’s wrong with Paris? It’s a beautiful place.”

I break my mean streak and giggle at the mad idea. I take it back. This is definitely not like getting back to a real, normal date. "I am not going to Paris with you! I suggested a steakhouse in Texas, Dallas, in fact. Because I want this to be on my turf."

“Do they have a resort or just a hotel?”

“It’s a restaurant, Nate,” I say, shaking my head. “Just a place where you eat and then leave.”

“Two hours? That’s all? No, no, no, two hours is nothing! Two hours I won’t even stop gawking at you long enough to form a coherent sentence. I want two days.”

“Two days? Who goes on a first date for two whole days?”

“I promise no funny business. And I pay for it. But if this is the last chance I have to show you who I really am…then I need Paris. I need two days. And you don’t have to do anything, Miss Shannon, besides stay beautiful.”

Damn. It sounded like something close to a compliment. He was waiting for an answer. Going out of his way to being kind, unlike his usual persona. I want to believe he's sincere, even if my instincts are fighting me on this one.

"Okay…but NO Paris. I say Al Biernat's." I soften my hard disposition, enjoying the tingling feeling of liking a guy in an innocent way. But…we can hang out for two days. You know…if we have that much to talk about."

“Deal,” he says. “Boy, you drive a hard bargain, Miss Shannon.”

“Well, that’s how we win games, kid,” I say in sarcasm. “On season and off.”