Holy baloney, was he planning on paying me three thousand dollars? We hadn’t discussed the fee in detail other than my mother promising he would “shower me with money.” But I hadn’t dreamed that big. Big enough to make a sizable dent in my student loans. I tried to keep a gigantic grin from spreading across my face.

Meanwhile, Hongbo’s tantrum continued.

“Don’t you think this is a worthy cause, Mother?” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me remind you what’s at stake.”

With this threat, Mrs. Kuo frantically took her phone out and pressed, typed, and swiped—presumably transferring money. Then, with way too much enthusiasm, she said, “Okay, you kids have fun.”

Because I was too entranced by the flashing money signs, I failed to see the red flags: Hongbo had needed to beg for money; Mrs. Kuo’s behavior toward me had changed from previous indifference to hungry interest; Hongbo’s massive ego would never allow him to be tutored by someone six years younger than him; and Hongbo’s Gudetama ass would never want to attend business school when he already had blood rights to No One Systems.

But in that moment I had practically skipped back outside and into the BMW. “Where’s Sheila?” I asked, trying to be friendlier.

“In the shop.”

Which was less appealing, someone who drove a Lamborghini or someone who lied about having one? But I forced a smile in response.

Then the next red flag was accompanied by alarm bells: Hongbo zoomed past the library.

“Hey,” I blurted, pointing back toward where my mother had said we’d be studying. “Aren’t we… Where are we going?”

“Prime Strip,” he answered, devoid of emotion.

I wasn’t happy about prolonging my time with him, but for three thousand dollars, fine.

“I like steak,” I told him, like a nincompoop.

He laughed. At me, not with me. “See? This is why I need you,” he chuckled.

“I don’t get it.”

“Exactly.”

We pulled into the parking lot. Of Prime Strip. As in neon boobs jiggling and a chalkboard out front advertising EXTRA FREAKY FRIDAY DEAL! TWO DANCERS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!

“What the…,” I started, but trailed off because I couldn’t think of any explanation for this.

“They have good steak, too, I promise,” he teased as he pulled the parking brake up.

“I’m not going in there.”

He sniggered, feeding off my discomfort.

“Seriously, why are we here, Hongbo?”

He shrugged. “When I agreed to this date”—what the fuck?—“I was scared you’d think it was real since it’s probably your first, so, I dunno, I thought it’d be a good idea, and funny, to bring you here.”

“Date?” I repeated in shock.

He scowled at me. “What’s wrong with you? Yeah, date. The one our parents set us up on.”

And, just like that, I was the fool, triple-pointed hat and everything.