Chapter 5: Enigma

Rainy’s POV

The more I read about Brett, the more alert and excited I get. This certainly isn’t helping me sleep at all. I know I fantasize about Bron almost nightly since I first saw him, but Brett, he is the whole package. Bron is a waiter. A sexy waiter, but a waiter all the same.

With each word I read, the more I like Brett.

In one article, it says that he came from a humble background, and earned a degree in chemistry at The University of Castleberg. He is a local through and through.

There are tons of videos online showcasing the yearly garden party that he hosts at his house. Suddenly, I am painfully aware of everything I’ve been missing in my life. Brett is everything I need, all wrapped into a tidy bundle.

He is outgoing, confident, and fun. He really knows how to live. I could really learn a thing or two from a brilliant man like Brett.

As I browse, I see that many of his businesses are local and involve the cattle industry where he is an industry leader. But he earned most of his money in gas and oil.

His holdings are called ‘Prairie Merchant.’

In another article, he talks about giving his entire fortune away before he dies. He says he will leave his children what they need. Not what they want. The rest will go to charity. The article is older, dated 2012. Ten years ago.

He is even in an episode of ‘The Genuine Housewives of Castleberg.’ That crazy show where all those rich housewives backstab each other. He was fixed up on a blind date with celebrity housewife Maria Zalban by one of her friends, using a Billionaire dating app. Her face is so full of filler that she resembles a little chipmunk.

I cannot help but feel a pang of jealousy when he carries her into a restaurant in his arms. He pulls out a chair for her after gingerly setting her back down on her Louboutin clad feet. She’s grinning from ear to ear when he presents her with an extremely expensive necklace.

That episode only came out eight months ago. I wonder if they are still seeing each other. I hope not. They look so happy on the show. Disgustingly happy. Gross.

Jealous of helicopter rides, Louis Vuitton purses, Hermes scarves, and dinner in Paris, you ask? Do I suddenly want all of that for myself? Um, yes. Especially after seeing the silhouette of his strong, tall, muscular physique in the window.

And what about all those videos that showcase his ice-blue eyes, perfect warm-hearted smile, deep, smooth voice, muscular body, bad boy tattoos, and his business blazer over those tight designer jeans? He looks like he just walked off a runway in Paris.

Was that his voice in my ear that night? I am doing a great job at convincing myself that it was. But who did the other voice belong to? The one that told me to run away. I swore that night, I felt someone touch my cheek. Almost as if a ghost had run up and then disappeared.

I furiously type the name ‘Maria Zalban’ into my computer, and I feel like my heart is beating in my throat as I search. But I don’t see that much except for the stuff about the show. I try ‘Maria Zalban boyfriend’ and two articles from several months ago showing their date from the episode pop up. Nothing major.

I furiously type ‘Brett Wolfsong relationship’ and a few articles pop up. Including an old one about his family and ex-wife, Virginia Wolfsong. And a more recent one, where he speaks regretfully about his divorce.

Brett blames himself and his fortune for being the reason for their parting. He feels that he lost his children in his obsession with chasing gold. But the past is gone now.

I hope he has let go of that guilt. How will he ever love again if he hasn’t? There are too many burning questions for me to sleep now. Brett is sexy, refined, wealthy, kind, generous, and has a gorgeous body. I love his carefree style.

But would he even like me? A starving artist with a roommate and three pairs of black shoes? I close my eyes, and all I can see are stupid Maria Zalban’s designer feet walking delicately beside Brett’s cowboy boots. I am clearly not as classy as Maria.

“You’ll never manifest a boyfriend unless you start to love yourself first.” Suddenly mother’s voice rings through my ears. Ugh. No. Not her again. She means well, but I get so sick of hearing her advice in my head sometimes.

What is loving myself, anyway? Face filler and designer shoes? I am nothing like the women on that show, or any show, for that matter. I am pretty sure Maria has her own private jet.

I think I seriously need to get my sh*t together if I want to level up to being a successful artist with money to invest in supplies for much larger projects like murals.

Wow. I’m seeing champagne visions in my mind’s eye.

Why don’t I have a private jet? Because I have never even dreamed of anything like that for myself before. Not until I saw Brett’s character unfolding right in front of my eyes.

Did I make him up? Did I dream up that house? Invent him with my active imagination? Not even I am that good.

I decide to find his email address and write him a message. I search relentlessly and come up with nothing. In a stroke of genius, I look up his name online. As a celebrity, he has very active social media accounts.

‘Dear Brett,

You don’t know me, and this may sound crazy, but a few nights ago I was walking past your house. I must admit that I did research on your house because it took my breath away. I was mesmerized by it. I thought I saw you looking out at me. And I just had the strangest feeling that this house would belong to me one day. I hope that doesn’t sound weird. I felt drawn to your house immediately.

Rainy Daye.’