We’re thinking of opening a virtual Chinese restaurant.
It would specialize in congee and fried rice. Sides include scallion pancakes, kimchi, and assorted Chinese veggies. The food travels well, so it’d work well with delivery services. Those wondering what congee is, it’s a rice porridge that The Soup Nazi Kitchen already serves as specials. It looks likes like this:
What’s so great about it? Well, read about it in this excerpt from my upcoming novel, Teacher’s Pet Bully.
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Annie returned to the kitchen.
“That was quick,” said Joan, chopping scallions.
“I told him we need girl-talk time,” said Annie, lifting the rice cooker lid. “Okay, this smells incredible. Since when did you start cooking Chinese food?”
“An Asian grocery store just opened in town,” said Joan, scraping ginger off the cutting board into a bowl. “So I’ve been Chinamaxxing, thanks to my TikTok feed. I’ll show you how to make dumplings next time we have a sleepover.”
“Mmm, that sounds like a scrumptious date,” said Annie, watching Joan crack eggs into the cooker. “So, what do you think? About Riley.”
“Well, I can see why he’s worth going to prison for.”
“So you’re revising your counsel?”
Joan stirred the pot. “Maybe.”
“Maybe what?”
“I need to get to know him better.” She brought a ladle to Annie’s lips. “Here, try.”
Annie’s eyes fluttered. “Oh my god, that’s amazing.”
“Healthy too. Lots of collagen from the chicken bone broth.”
Annie turned to her. “Are you revising your counsel?”
Joan set the rice cooker to Keep Warm. “Does it matter? Would you follow it?”
Annie went silent.
Joan pulled out bowls from the cabinet. “Based on current evidence, you won’t. I mean, the two of you fucked this morning, right?”
A smile spread across Annie’s face, her eyes brightening. “We did, counsel, though I prefer you call it ‘making love.’ So am I going to prison?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met all the players in this game.”
“Is this a game?”
“It’s all a game, isn’t it? And you have to cheat to win.”
“What happens if I don’t cheat?”
“You hire an expensive lawyer. Otherwise, they’ll crush you.”
“And if I do cheat?”
“They’ll crush you even harder if you get caught. Then you’ll have to hire an expensive asshole lawyer.”
They heard Riley stomping snow off his boots on the porch.
“Will you have revised counsel after breakfast?”
Joan ladled congee into the bowls. “Maybe, but I need to know more about all players in this game. Like his girlfriend. Especially her. Sprinkle some scallions and ginger over the congee.”
The front door opened, Riley stepping in.
“Riley, that was quick,” called Annie, bringing bowls to the table.
“The snow is still light, so it was easy,” he said, entering the kitchen. He looked at the bowls on the table—thick, pale porridges he didn’t recognize, glossy from the heat, with coins of sausage and soft-yolked eggs half-sunk beneath the surface, scattered with scallions and ginger.
“What is this?”
“Congee,” said Joan, pulling crispy Chinese donuts from the air fryer. “Sit. Ever had a Chinese breakfast?”
Riley took a seat. “Never had Chinese for breakfast. Just for dinner, when I’m watching a movie.” He nearly mentioned Porter because that’s what she would order when they watched movies together.
Joan noticed the hesitation, placing the plate of donuts on the table. “Well, you’re going to try some today. It’s a complete meal, just the right balance of carbs, protein, and fiber. The leafy greens are yam leaves and Chinese donuts are sugar free.”
“This is amazing, Joan,” said Annie, swallowing a spoonful. “You should open a Chinese restaurant.”
Joan sighed, handing Riley a donut. “Maybe I should.” She pointed at it with her chin. “Dip it in the congee.”
“Aren’t you in law school?” said Riley.
“Yep,” said Joan. “And I’m regretting it.”
“Why?” said Riley. “This is really good, by the way. It’s different from the Chinese food I usually have.”
“The legal profession attracts idealists—red flag, red flag—who are either already manipulative assholes or will become so—precisely because idealists are easily manipulated—after a couple of years working as an attorney. They’re propagandists. Bullies, really.”
“Porter plans on becoming a lawyer,” said Riley, digging for a morsel of sausage.
Annie and Joan were caught off guard. Annie had already told him that Joan knew about Porter but was surprised that he’d bring her up so casually.
“Well, am I right?” asked Joan.
Riley paused to think. “Well, I don’t think she’s an idealist, even if she acts like one because that’s how Groton students are supposed to be. She’s pretty grounded, actually. Almost jaded.”
“She’s a Harriman,” said Annie. “As in Brown Brothers Harriman. Heard of it?”
Joan raised her eyebrows. “That explains the jaded part. And yeah. This guy I hooked up with interned there. He took me to one of their events.”
“Who?” asked Annie. “You never told me about him.”
“It was just a fling.”
Annie stopped herself from pressing, sensing that Joan had wanted it to be more than that. “I’m getting another bowl. Riley, ready for more?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, slurping the rest out of his bowl.
“Joan?”
Joan pressed a smile. “I’m good,” she said, rising. “I’ll bring another round of coffee.”
“Is Brown Brothers Harriman a big deal or something?” asked Riley. “Porter’s dad and brother work there.”
“You know she’s related, right?” said Annie, setting a bowl in front of him.
“Yeah, so?” Riley replied.
Joan poured coffee. “It’s the most prestigious private bank in the world.”
“So?” Riley asked.
“It means the Harrimans aren’t just wealthy, they’re powerful,” said Joan. “Like access to senators, intelligence agencies, people who don’t lose.”
“How do you know all this?” asked Annie.
Joan’s fingers curled around her mug. “Scott fucking Bessent and one of the Bush daughters was at the event I was at. I was like, what the fuck? So I did some research.”
Riley took a deep breath. “She never told me that. She made it sound like it’s just a family business.”
“That funds agendas of powerful people,” said Joan.
Riley stirred his bowl. “I didn’t know that.”
“Which means you don’t want to cross her,” said Joan, watching Annie. “Riley, is Porter a bully?”
He put his spoon down and thought for a moment. “Well, I haven’t seen much bullying at Groton, unless you count some good-natured hazing here and there.”
Annie reminded herself to ask him about that. She’d heard some lurid stories and wanted to know if the rumors were true.
“Groton really does feel like a tight-knit family,” he continued. “I mean, upperclassmen take care of underclassmen like they’re our little brothers and sisters.” He thought of Porter and Jenna Morkel. “I…I really don’t know. Porter is super competitive and intense, even by Groton standards. But she’s generally pretty nice, except with me sometimes, I guess,” he said, chuckling. “Most of the girls are just intimidated by her, that’s all. They’re like, in awe of her.”
Annie wiped her mouth. “Well yeah. I’m intimidated by her.”
Riley turned to her, putting his hand on her knee. “Why?”
Annie pressed a finger gun to his temple. “Riley, look at me.”
“I am.”
“Do I look intimidating?”
“Ever since you chucked a shampoo bottle at me, yes.”
Joan shook her head. “That’s felony assault, you monster.”
Annie’s face scrunched. “It was a tiny shampoo bottle! You’re making it sound like I gave you a concussion.”
“I think that was your intention,” said Riley, turning to Joan. “Joan, is that enough to send her to jail?”
Annie slapped him on the shoulder. “Not funny!”
He grabbed her hand before she could land another slap. He kissed it, looked into her eyes. “Annie. You’re the, uh, most b—intimidating woman I’ve ever set eyes on.”
Annie pulled her hand out of his and began slapping his shoulders with both hands. Joan was nearly doubled over and Riley did his best to dodge the assault.
Joan rapped on the table like a judge. “Order! Order in the court. You’re out of order, Miss Taylor.”
Annie settled back into her chair with a pout. Riley straightened in his, smirking.
“Miss Taylor,” began Joan, trying not to break into giggles. “You are guilty as charged. You are, in fact, an intimidating monster.”
Annie let out a puff. “What’s my sentence?”
Joan, laughing now, turned to Riley. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Riley tapped his chin. “How about joining me on a ski trip, the White Mountains after Christmas? A couple of my buddies from junior hockey and I rented a cabin. They’re bringing their girlfriends.”
Annie turned to him. Joan gawked.
“Twenty-seventh to twenty-ninth, you up for it?”
Annie stared at him. “And you’re going to tell them that your date is your math teacher?”
“We don’t have to tell them you’re a teacher.” Riley shrugged. “You can be a classmate.”
Joan’s mouth parted. Annie’s pursed.
“You want me to pretend I’m a high school student?”
“You could pass,” said Riley. “Why not?”
“Do they know about Porter?” asked Joan.
“Yeah, they met her over the summer. I’ll just tell them that we broke up and you’re my girlfriend.”
“I’m your girlfriend?” said Annie.
“Well, are you?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
“Riley,” Annie said. “Where do your buddies go to school?”
“Both are at Dartmouth. They’re a couple of years older.”
“They’re from your hometown?”
“Yes.”
“Where did they go to high school?”
“One went to St. Paul’s. The other, Holderness. They got me the summer job at Holderness hockey camp.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you ask Porter to go with you?”
“She’s going to Switzerland with her family to visit her sister.”
“So what am I, the backup plan?” Annie snapped.
Riley sighed. “No. I mean, we didn’t become a couple until, like, yesterday?”
“We’re a couple?”
“Well…are we? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
Annie went still. “I want to kick you in the face.”
“So, is that a yes?”
Annie sighed, turning to Joan. “Counsel, what is your advice?”
Joan turned to Riley. “What’s your intention with my best friend and your teacher, Annie Taylor?”
“I want to be her boyfriend, that’s all.”
“You do realize that she’s nearly twenty-five years old and is interested in marriage and babies?”
“I don’t want to have babies!” said Annie.
“You totally do, Annie. You’re just temporarily jaded.”
Riley leaned forward. “That’s going to be a problem, because I do. Should we break up?”
“You’re not my boyfriend!”
“Then what are we?”
“I don’t know!”
“Well, are we going skiing or not?”
“Porter will find out. And then I’ll go to prison.”
“She’s not going to find out,” he said in a flat tone. “Phone service there is wonky, she won’t be able to contact me.”
“Joan,” said Annie, looking exasperated. “Should I go?”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
“Because either way, Porter will find out.”
Chapter Thirty
Begin Again
Riley and Annie got into her vehicle.
Annie started the engine and turned up the defrost. “You know, Joan’s hookup? You know why she called it that and didn’t tell me about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s because she was hoping it’d be more than that. She wanted more but knew that he’d never take her seriously.”
“Why not? I mean, she’s cute, smart, and funny.”
“Have you ever read the New York Times Mergers and Acquisitions page?”
“No. Should I? What’s it about?”
“Mergers and acquisitions is a euphemism for marriage announcements.”
“Okay,” said Riley, watching the ice melt from the windshield.
Annie took off her mittens. “I’ll summarize.” She counted off on her fingers. “They list what each person does for a living, at which institution, and where they went to school.” She turned to Riley. “And you know what? Someone from Harvard never marries someone from UVM. It’s always Harvard merges with Dartmouth. Or Amherst gets with Wellesley. A Yalie marrying someone from Carnegie Mellon happens, but it comes off as slumming it.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, that’s how it works in your world.”
“My world?”
“Yes, that’s going to be your world.”
He watched a couple of huskies playing in the snow, diving in and out of it.
“Isn’t that how it is at school?” she continued. “Starting in 5th form, junior year, does someone who ends up at University of New Hampshire ever date someone who ends up at Dartmouth?”
Riley shook his head. “I guess not. Except for hookups.”
“Exactly.” Annie began pulling out of the curb. “So she didn’t tell me because it would’ve been embarrassing and heartbreaking if it turned out to be a fling. And she was right.”
“How do you know where he went to school?”
“He interned at Brown Brothers. Where do you think he went to school?”
“Got it. It’s really beautiful today,” he said, looking around at the snow-topped brick buildings. “So how did she meet him?”
“Dating app, probably. Or maybe he picked her up somewhere. She was interning at Legal Aid in Boston.”
She pulled into the hotel parking lot. “Riley, you’re going to Princeton. And I’m not.”
“I’m not like those guys. And do we have to talk about this now?”
“Yes, we do have to talk about this now because I’m almost twenty-five years old, I’m not some 10th grader…”
“When’s your birthday?”
“January. January 22nd.”
“Oh shit. That’s not much time for me to make reservations and get you something.”
She grabbed him by the shoulder. “Riley, stay on topic.”
“My birthday is April 1st.”
“April Fool’s Day? Are you fucking with me?”
“No.”
“Alright, you know what? I’m just going to have fun over the weirdest winter break ever, we’re going to meet up in a few days and maybe we’ll talk about it then.”
“Okay. You want to come up with me?”
She hesitated. “No. I should get going and I’m pretty sore now. I’ll see you to the lobby door.”
They made their way there. Riley turned toward her and leaned in, pressing a kiss to one eyelid, then the other. When their lips met, she wrapped her arms around his neck. They held each other tight as the kiss deepened.
“I’ll miss you, Riley,” she said, patting him on the chest.
He tipped her chin up. “Annie, you’re the most…beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
Annie chuckled. “Thanks.”
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too,” she whispered. “Have a safe drive. Call me tonight?”
“What time?”
“After you call Porter.”
“Ten then.”
“Okay.”
She stopped him just as he was about to turn away. “Wait,” she said, unwrapping her scarf from her neck. “Here, take this with you,” she said, handing it to him. “Something to remind you of me.”
Her eyes lit up when he smiled at her.
She watched him enter the lobby and headed back to her car. She turned on the engine and the soft guitar plucks of Taylor Swift’s “Begin Again” came through the speakers. Annie sat there a moment, hands on the wheel, watching the snow drift across the parking lot before she pulled out.