Wednesday of the bet

Wednesday

On Wednesday, I pretended to sort Dad’s calendar, as I eavesdropped on my brother as he started on the next person on the list. After ending on a high yesterday, he is just as eager as he was when he started hunting yesterday.

He starts with Hazel, a product manager with three patents. “Hazel,” he says, “can I talk to you about something? ”

Hazel doesn’t even look up from her prototype. “If about what you asked the girls yesterday, it’s a hard past for me. Your family tricks me into agreeing to sign this stupid contract, and I’m smart enough not to make the same mistake twice. ”

Her words cut clean, and I love her for it. I almost want to clap, but that would tip him off that I’m watching.

He moves on, a little deflated but still determined. He works down the list, pivoting between desks, each time using a slightly different approach. Sometimes he plays it like a joke, sometimes like a solemn family duty, but every time the result is the same: no.

Watching him get shot down is the highlight of my morning. I imagine Dad would be furious if he saw how little success his son was having, but he’s locked in a day-long conference with the acquisitions team, so it’s just me and my running tally. By noon, my brother is zero for eleven, and I’m so giddy I nearly spill coffee on the calendar I’m not really updating.

It’s not until 2:45 that he gets a hit. I see him lean against the edge of the reception desk and make a call on his phone. The woman on the other end, a remote engineer named Bianca, has never actually set foot in the building, but she’s notorious for posting sonograms in the company chat every time she’s knocked up. The odds were always in his favor with this one.

The conversation lasts less than a minute. When he hangs up, he makes a small, silent fist pump and enters the “plus one” into his notes app.

I’d be worried, but even with that win, he’s still got only three out of seven. Four names remain—two women I barely know, and myself.

By five o’clock, he’s packed up and gone, presumably to strategize. I hang around, pretending to tidy up, but really just savoring the afterglow of a day well-wasted.

The night I went to bed, happy as can be. He had only managed to get three women, and there were only 4 women left, including me. It was my dream scenario. There was no way all three before me would agree, so I was going to win the bet and free myself from this stupid contract without him having to ask me personally, and as a result, he would have found out it was my ass that took his virginity.

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Thursday

I woke up Thursday morning still gloating, knowing today was the day I would be free of this contract. I would no longer be **** into ****, and hopefully, long before my father got what he was after. I stretch under my sheets and fantasize about my brother’s face when Dad finally frees me from the contract. I actually began to plan out what I was going to do with the money and all the free time I would have tomorrow.

I treat myself to a venti latte, and before heading straight to the office, so I could see my brother get turned down by the first woman, sealing my victory.

I walk into the office that morning with the confidence of a woman who knows she’s about to win a bet. I expect to see my brother at his desk, already halfway through his list of rejections, maybe even crying a little. Instead, I am greeted by the sight of him confidently striding up to the very first woman on his list.

She is a tall, Scandinavian type, her name is Freya or Faye or something mythological, and she always wears her hair in a severe braid. My brother leans over her cubicle wall and says, in a voice that carries across the entire open plan, “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

She doesn’t even look up from her monitor. “If this is about last quarter’s invoices, take it up with accounting.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s about the contract you signed.”

At this, she turns, her eyes hard as acrylic nails. “Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, uh, I’m supposed to offer you a chance to, like, carry my child.”

There is a moment of silence that expands and expands until I’m sure she’s about to shut him down so hard he’ll walk away with his dick tucked up inside his stomach. Instead, she shrugs and says, “My wife and I have been talking about having kids together for years, but the sperm bank is expensive, and I have a bad reaction to the hormones. If you’re serious about providing start-up funds for the baby, we’ll take the deal. My wife is also under contract, if you need to check.”

I almost spat latte onto my blouse as I felt my jaw dislocate and hit the floor. What in the hell is happening? I expected a hard no, not a PowerPoint presentation on lesbian family planning.

I watch the light die in my own eyes as he marks two wins. Now there’s only me and the last name on the list…

But unfortunately, that girl was Miranda, who just happened to hate my guts because I stole her girlfriend the night before her senior prom, so I could go to prom when I was a freshman, and she was a senior.

But unfortunately, the last one just happened to hate my guts because I stole her girlfriend the night before her senior prom, so I could go to prom when I was a freshman, and she was a senior. So I really didn't know if she was petty enough to agree to knock me up to get back at me.

But my heart sank when I overheard her whispering to another woman, “You know he’s not actually going to do it when he finds out how the last woman is, so of course I am going to happily agree on the spot just to stick it to that bitch!”

As I watch my brother walk over to her, I call my dad and ask, “Is there any way I could, you know, tell him no over the phone so he doesn't have to know who I am?”

Dad laughs on the other end of the line, the kind of deep, hearty laugh that makes you want to smash your phone against the nearest hard surface. “You want me to give him your number and expect him not to know it’s you when your name pops up under your number? Come on, kiddo. You know how this works.”

With me still holding the phone to my ear, my brother walked by and said, “That’s six out of seven, and with the biggest slut ever left. It looks like you’re going to lose.”

Leaving me wondering, was getting out of this contract worth it for him to find out that the woman who took his virginity and the woman who he called the biggest whore ever was me? I never thought six other women would actually agree, so was it worth the look of disgust he would give me every time he looked at me?