Old Friends Bar.
"Adam!"
As soon as he walked over, Lily and the gang greeted him with big smiles. 😊
"Wine god, huh, Lily?" Adam teased.
"Oh, this is nothing," Lily shot back, smirking proudly.
"Ted, gonna introduce us?" Adam nodded toward the extra woman at the table.
"How'd you know Heather's my sister…" Ted started, then glared at Lily. "Wait, never mind. Lily totally spilled it, didn't she?"
Lily's a total blabbermouth—no sense of secrecy whatsoever.
Tell her a secret, and the whole world knows it a second later.
Tell her to keep quiet, and she might just explode from holding it in.
It's a talent, really.
Emmm.
Her little auntie vibe must've rubbed off perfectly.
"Not this time!" Lily protested, sounding wronged.
"She's right—it wasn't Lily who told me," Adam said with a chuckle. "You two look a lot alike."
"Really?" Ted's face lit up. "Okay, Adam, meet my sister Heather. Heather, this is Adam."
"Hey, Heather," Adam said, flashing a friendly grin.
"Hey, Adam," Heather replied, then turned to whine at her brother. "Ted, you've got all these cool friends—how come you never told me about them?"
"You know why," Ted quipped, but when Heather glared, he threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I get it—you're grown up, mature now. I won't nag anymore. See? I'm introducing you now. Adam's a doctor, though, so he's got nothing to do with your finance gig."
"Who says?" Heather shot back. "Doctors are prime clients. Meeting one's like adding a solid connection. And Adam's clearly not your average doctor, right?"
"How do you know that?" Ted couldn't help himself.
"Oh, please!" Heather rolled her eyes at her brother. "Does a regular doctor walk in and get swarmed with cheers like that?"
"Uh…" Ted gaped at his so-called "useless" little sister.
Was this the same girl who used to swipe stuff, fail at everything, party like it was her job, and couldn't even figure out if a door was push or pull?
Since when did she get so sharp?
My little sis is finally growing up, Ted thought, eyes full of pride. 😌
"Looks like I made the right call after all," he said.
"Oh?" Adam slid into a seat next to Robin, curious. "What'd you do?"
"Heather's moving to New York to hustle," Lily jumped in, finally getting a word in. "She needed someone to co-sign her lease here."
"And Ted wasn't on board at first?" Adam guessed, piecing it together.
Ted's sister probably wasn't the reliable type.
Co-signing? That's just a fancy way of saying "guarantor."
In his past life, Adam had seen this play out too many times. He totally got why even family asking for a guarantee was a hard no.
If the other person bails or flakes out, you're stuck with their debt.
And that happens way more often than you'd think.
Adam had this classmate—super stand-up guy, always there to help a friend, no questions asked.
A few years after graduation, one of his best buds hit him up: "Hey, I need some cash to tide over my business—just temporary."
It was a big chunk of change.
The classmate didn't have that kind of money, but his friend begged. The guy was legit—ran a solid business, always thriving.
For him, the amount was pocket change, just a quick turnover. Made sense.
So, under pressure, the classmate borrowed from relatives, friends, even local lenders in their village and handed it over.
Emmm.
The loan was in his friend's name, with proper IOUs signed and everything—but since he'd vouched for it, he was the guarantor, no question.
No one knew his buddy otherwise.
Then the nightmare kicked in.
His friend took the cash and—poof—blew it all gambling, or so the rumors went. Business tanked, and the guy bolted out of town, claiming he'd "work to pay it back."
One year, two years, three years—nothing. Couldn't even find him. Every phone call? "I'm trying."
Adam's classmate? Screwed.
He could stall the family and friends with apologies, but the lenders? They demanded repayment, fast, or the interest would snowball 'til he was buried for life.
Years of savings? Gone to his buddy's bets. Broke and desperate, he worked his butt off—but regular jobs can't outpace debt like that.
Three years in, he'd barely covered the interest.
His fiancée? Dumped him, no surprise.
Relatives and friends wouldn't stop griping.
He was under thirty, once a fit, sunny guy—three years later, he'd dropped dozens of pounds, face weathered and hollow. Not quite "ruined for the rest of his days" dramatic, but close.
The guy just went numb.
By the time Adam crossed over, he'd heard the classmate had given up. He flat-out told the lenders, "I'll pay the principal, but interest? Nope. No money, just my life—take it."
They were locals, knew him well. Seeing him pushed to the edge, they shrugged—three years of high interest was plenty, and pushing more would just be a write-off. They settled for the principal.
But even that? At his earning pace, no food, no sleep—ten years minimum.
This was a good dude—great personality, talented, landed a solid job right out of school, dated a gorgeous girl from college they were about to marry. Everyone envied him.
Now? One act of kindness, and he's in the gutter.
That's the danger of being a guarantor.
You never know what wild, uncontrollable mess the other person might pull.
Back to Ted's sister, Heather, needing a co-signer for her New York lease.
In the States, it's not just a signature—they want someone with a salary dozens of times the monthly rent and five years of spotless credit as backup.
If it were just unpaid rent, Ted could handle it.
But what if Heather trashed the place or caused some disaster? That's not something Ted could easily fix.
Judging by his vibe, she's probably a walking red flag.
Him hesitating? Totally fair.
"Oh, come on!" Ted groaned. "Can you blame me? She took six years to bounce between three colleges, wrecked two cars, had a five-day marriage, and spent nine weeks living in a tree.
Last time she said she'd transfer to NYU, she sold my TV and couch on interview day—TV alone was worth two grand—then jetted off to Spain for some concert with the cash!"
"Hey!" Heather yelped. "I thought they were gonna chop that tree down—I was saving the planet!"
"No one was chopping that tree," Ted said, exasperated.
"…"
Adam bit back a laugh, struggling to keep it together.
Heather and Phoebe were kinda alike—both eco-warriors pulling the most ridiculous stunts.
Nine weeks in a tree?
Emmm.
She might just outdo Phoebe.
Yeah, definitely not reliable.
(Chapter End)
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