My inbox exploded the next day with orders, and I now found myself very, very wealthy.
Tapping my foot on the edge of my desk, I sent myself slowly spinning again.
I was overwhelmed by the response at first, but Mark was the one who got me a virtual assistant to help me with my work and guard me against assholes. Delores, my assistant, was amazing and, even though we’d never met, I considered her a great friend. Sure, she was forty years older than me, but she had a dry sense of humor that I adored. And she could be quite the pit bull for an old lady. She kept me safe and looked out for my best interest in the business world, which made her invaluable to me.
Back when I struggled with my newfound fame and wealth, Mark was the one who suggested I do some good with it. Give back to the world. With his and Delores’ help, I became heavily involved with a non-profit named A Kid’s Best Friend which supplied service dogs to foster kids in need.
I know how incredibly lucky I had been to be adopted by people affluent enough to afford a service dog. It’s all too easy for me to imagine what my life would have been like if I’d been thrown into the foster system at ten years old after being taken away from my mother. Sometimes, I think it was only because my case was so high profile and got so much media attention that I was placed with Pat and Jan, who I considered my mom and dad. They may not have been responsible for my DNA, but they’d been the best parents any kid could ask for. Even though they got me when I was a super messed up, they’d gone above and beyond to make sure I knew I was loved.
And my parents adored Mark.
They visited often enough that they’d seen me chatting with Mark. He’d even met with them once without telling me. That still hurt. He could make time to meet my mom and dad, but not me. My mother thought he was devastatingly handsome in a wicked way, while my dad was a little more standoffish. At least at first. After they had coffee together, my dad liked Mark enough to invite him to play fantasy football with him—a big thing in my dad’s world.
I let my foot drag along the floor, slowing my chair to a stop. My gaze drifted over my shelves of Japanese anime stuffed animals and I played with the teddy bear charm necklace I almost always wore. Mark had it specially made for me this last Christmas, and I knew that the two carat chocolate diamonds making up the circles of its head and body were real. It was an expensive gift to give a friend and had raised my hopes that he thought of me as ‘more.’
That wasn’t all he’d bought me. Over the course of our friendship, Mark had given me over two dozen stuffed animals from my favorite adult animated cartoon. They were next to impossible to get, sold out everywhere that Christmas season. Somehow, though, Mark had managed to not only get me the complete collection, he also got one of the illustrators of the series the stuffed animals were from to sign a collector’s edition book for me. It was an amazing gift, but Mark always spoiled me with presents.
He never judged me for my admittedly uber girly and childish tastes. While some people might have turned their nose up at my love of anime and comics, Mark embraced my interests and started reading some of the same series I did. He didn’t even care that I wore a lot of pink and had an obsession with anything that sparkled. In fact, he’d bought me the amazing crystal lamp that sat in the corner of my office. It spun, glittered like a million diamonds, and changed color.
It was awesome.
When I was feeling down, or being grumpy, or just plain depressed he’d always find some way to make me smile. It could be as simple as a bag of cotton candy that he knew I loved, or as elaborate as the diamond teddy bear charm that he’d given me. I know it had to cost bank, but he’d shrugged it off, said it reminded him of his baby bear, and I not-so-secretly loved it.
Toying with the charm, I sighed.
Maybe he just needs a little more time.
But how long was I willing to wait?
Two months later
Okay, I was going to do it.
Right after this shot.
Little liquid courage never hurt anyone.
The mango flavored vodka—not my first choice, but all I had in the house—slid down my throat like fire, and I swallowed hard as saliva filled my mouth.
Slamming the shot glass on my computer desk, I glanced at the little icon in the corner of a big old grizzly bear.