Everything was slipping away for Tim Fletcher. Of course, it didn’t seem that way on the outside. He was the captain of the football team. The players followed him around like dumb animals and did his bidding. And the girls, well. Duh. He could pick anyone, and so he picked Mary Clark, because she was Mary Clark, perfection, a female version of Tim. Tim’s father owned a bank, so they were rich. They belonged to the best country club. Everything was exactly as it should be. Exactly as it had always been. He was a walking cliché, and fucking proud of it.
And yet …
He could feel it. He wasn’t smart, not like the nerds with their faces in books, but he wasn’t dumb either. He had inherited a Waspy understanding of power.
He could feel the power shifting. In his dad’s day, you’d graduate, play ball in college, inherit your dad’s bank, and marry a girl that looked like mom. The nerds would become your doctors and lawyers and accountants. They’d do well, but not too well. You would chat with them as they did your books or listened to your lungs, and then they’d go home to the suburbs and you’d hit the links at Oak Haven.
But now, his dad’s finances were hurting. Generations of alcoholism and mistresses had shrunk the family fortune, and they were riding on fumes. His parents kept up appearances, but through the walls he heard them fighting. At school, he was still king. Yet he saw the world change around him. At home in Austin. In Silicon Valley. The same kind of kids he dominated at Turner High were squeezing his dad’s bank with apps made in college dorm rooms. The old ways weren’t working anymore. Everything was disrupted. Where the hell did that leave him?
He watched Mary do her homework. She didn’t know he checked her phone when she wasn’t there. Why the hell was she googling Charlie Lake, that loser? They hadn’t been on student council together in years, since he flamed out. Even still, Tim had always viewed their friendship warily.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Mary would say, putting a carefully manicured hand on each of his broad shoulders. “I’m with you.”
So what was she doing now?
What Tim wanted, no, needed, was control.
He slid the silver box across the table to Mary.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
She laughed nervously and untied the red bow.
Inside was a rose-gold bracelet. It cost a small fortune.
“Put it on.”
“Tim, this is crazy. It’s not even our—”
“Put it on.” His voice was a little less warm.
Mary tried to clasp the bracelet around her wrist, but her fingers shook a little.
“Let me.” His thumb dug a little into the space under the bone in her delicate wrist.
She winced.
“Sorry.” Tim held has palms up to her, open. “Big hands.” As the bell rang, he smiled broadly and stood up. “It looks great on you.”
He walked to the door, past the STD poster showing how sex with one person was really sex with everyone. “You’ll always be mine.” He gave her his handsomest grin.