Just for Show

by Jae

“I checked her out, Claire. Really. I wouldn’t make you live with an ax murderer.”

  A heavy feeling settled in the pit of Claire’s stomach. “Live with…? Wait a minute! Who said anything about living together?”

  “If you want people to think you’re in love and committed to each other, you can’t keep separate houses.”

  “Who says we can’t be a happily committed couple who enjoys having our own space?”

  “Actually, you do.” Mercedes opened a desk drawer and pulled out a stack of paper. “Chapter five.” She opened the manuscript, leafed through it, and then read, “Moving in together before getting married will give you a realistic idea about cute and not-so-cute little quirks and will teach you to work as a team in everyday life.” She slapped the manuscript onto her desk in front of Claire. “Those are your words, Claire. If you want people to take you seriously, you’ve got to practice what you preach.”

  “Can’t I rewrite that chapter instead?” Claire grumbled.

  Mercedes just gave her a look.

  Oh God. This is a nightmare. Claire rubbed her face with both hands and groaned into her palms. “Okay,” she said from behind her fingers. “I’ll do it.”

  Mercedes put the manuscript back into the drawer. “So I can tell her she’s got the job?”

  Claire sighed. Maybe picking someone who wasn’t her type had its advantages. At least there was no danger of her falling in love with this actress. This would be a mutually beneficial business arrangement, nothing more. “Yes. I guess she’ll do.”

  Lana drilled her nails into her palms as she followed Ms. Soto into the audition room. Oh, please, please, please… She looked at the two women, trying to read their expressions.

  Ms. Soto smiled at her, but Claire looked about as happy as someone who had just received a prison sentence.

  Was that a good or a bad sign?

  “Please take a seat, Ms. Henderson,” Ms. Soto said.

  “Lana, please.”

  “Then please call me Mercedes.”

  Lana nodded and took the chair next to Claire, facing Mercedes, who sat behind the desk.

  “Before we tell you anything else, we need you to sign this.” Mercedes slid two sheets of paper across the desk.

  Lana couldn’t help grinning. “Does that mean I’ve got the role?”

  “Yes.”

  A flare of elation rushed through Lana. She barely held herself back from pumping her fist. “Great.” She nodded in Claire’s direction. “So will she be my co-star?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “That’s…uh, wonderful.” Lana pasted an enthusiastic smile on her face. “Working with new actresses is always so…exciting!” She flicked her gaze to Claire and gave her an encouraging nod. “I mean, we’ve all been where you are with your acting, just starting out. Don’t worry, I’ll give you some pointers. Unless, of course, you really aren’t comfortable starring in a lesbian movie.” Maybe that was why her fellow actress had been so wooden. She turned back toward Mercedes and tried not to look hopeful when she added, “In that case, maybe recasting my co-star might be a good idea.”

  As soon as she’d said it, she scolded herself. An actress with no real roles in the past two years couldn’t afford to be picky about her co-star. What if Claire was friends with the producer or something, and that was how she’d gotten the role?

  Claire scowled at her. Somehow, her elegant features still managed to look refined.

  Mercedes giggled. “I’m afraid recasting is not an option.”

  “I wish it were,” Claire muttered.

  “No problem.” Lana had worked with untalented actresses before. It beat having no acting work at all. “So, where do I sign?”

  “Um, hold your horses,” Mercedes said. “You might not want the role after hearing all the details.”

  Why wouldn’t she? Roles for more curvaceous actresses weren’t exactly in abundant supply in Hollywood, so she would say yes to pretty much any gig. Unless…

  “This isn’t a porn production, is it?”

  Claire started to sputter, then cough. Her fair cheeks flushed. “No! Nothing like that.”

  “There’s actually even a celibacy clause in the contract,” Mercedes added.

  A celibacy clause? What the hell? This wasn’t some kind of Christian production, was it?

  “I’ll explain in a second. But first, I need you to sign this.” Mercedes nodded down at the papers on her desk.

  Lana leaned forward and picked up the top sheet, expecting it to be the contract. Instead, the paper said non-disclosure agreement. They wanted her to sign an NDA? She looked from Mercedes to Claire and back. Jeez, what kind of movie were they filming?

  Well, I guess you’ll find out once you sign it. She took the pen Mercedes handed her, signed on the dotted line, and slid the agreement across the desk.

  Mercedes took it and put it in a drawer. “Do you want to explain your situation, Claire?”

  Claire slid her palms over her black pencil skirt as if wanting to remove invisible wrinkles. “I’m actually not an actress.”

  No shit, Sherlock. Lana smiled. “I kinda guessed that. But we’ve all got to start somewhere.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I don’t have any ambition to become an actress. I’m a psychologist.”

  “Oh. So this is some kind of documentary or a reality TV show? Please tell me you don’t want me to play a patient. Because I’ve got to tell you, ladies, that’s pretty much the only couch that I avoid at all costs—well, that and casting couches.” Lana managed to lighten her tone and make it sound like a joke, but she was actually serious.

  Claire shook her head. “No, don’t worry. I don’t want you to be my patient.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if she needed to brace herself for what she was about to say next. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

  For a moment, all Lana could do was stare at her. Was this some kind of joke? Then the humor of the situation overcame her. “Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?”

  Mercedes muffled a giggle behind her palm.

  Claire wasn’t laughing, though. She glared at Lana.

  “Would someone please tell me what this is all about?” Lana asked.

  “Claire is trying to get her relationship-advice book published,” Mercedes finally said.

  Lana nearly groaned out loud. Oh man. So Claire was one of those. A self-appointed relationship guru who made money off vulnerable people. People like Lana’s mother. “What exactly would my role be in this scenario?”

  “Well, you see, Claire’s fiancée recently broke up with her, and if the publisher finds out, her book deal could be in trouble. If you want to sell a book on lasting relationships, you need to actually be in one.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.” Lana turned her head to look at Claire, who was white-knuckling the armrests of her chair. “So let me get this straight, Ms. Renshaw…or not so straight, in this case. You want me to be your fake girlfriend.”

  “Fake fiancée, actually,” Claire said. “And it’s Dr. Renshaw.”

  “Wow. I don’t know if I want to contribute to that.”

  “I can understand your concern,” Mercedes said. “I mean, it’s a highly unusual situation and not exactly what you were expecting when you came here today.”

  That wasn’t what made Lana hesitate. But did she really want to help Claire get her self-help book published? One more book that told women like her mother that they needed to be in a relationship and shell out hundreds or thousands of dollars for intimacy workshops and get-in-touch-with-your-feelings retreats in order to be happy.

  But then again, her landlord wouldn’t care about her personal opinion on self-help books when her rent was overdue.

  “What kind of compensation would I receive?”

  Mercedes took another documen
t from a drawer and handed it to her. “You’ll find that information on page two of the contract.”

  Lana turned the top page and found the number. Holy crap. Fifty thousand? That was more than she had earned with her acting in the past two years. If Claire could drop that amount of money on a ruse like this, therapists were definitely overpaid.

  “Plus I’ll pay for all expenses such as any new articles of clothing you might need,” Claire added.

  Was that a snipe at her style of dress? Lana chose to ignore it. “What exactly do you expect me to do for that kind of money? We wouldn’t actually have to get married, would we?”

  Claire’s eyes went wide. “No!”

  Jeez, how about making the idea of getting married to me not sound quite so horrible?

  “No,” Claire repeated more softly. “I guess we could just have a long engagement. That would be pretty believable, actually, since I’m very busy with my job.”

  “How long exactly are we talking?” Lana asked.

  Claire shrugged. “For however long it takes for me to get the book deal. I’m meeting with the acquisitions editor at the end of June, so my guess is two or three months at the most. Once the contract is signed, we could quietly dissolve our engagement.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. It wasn’t as if she had any exciting roles lined up for the next couple of months anyway. “That works for me. If it takes longer, I could make myself available.” For some extra payment, of course.

  “Great, but I’m hoping that won’t be necessary,” Claire said.

  “What would my duties as your fiancée be during that time? You don’t expect any bedroom privileges, do you?” She made good use of her acting skills and lent her tone an almost horrified note, just to get back at Claire for sounding so appalled at the idea of marrying her.

  “No, of course not! It would be purely a business arrangement, a relationship only on paper, not when we’re alone.”

  “Plus we’d also expect you to not sleep with or date anyone else during the length of the contract,” Mercedes added. “We can’t have anyone think that you’re cheating on Claire. Is that a problem for you?”

  “Not in the least.” Lana had been single for two years and had no intention of changing that anytime soon. She read over the rest of the contract—the celibacy clause, the compensation, the demand for twenty-four/seven availability. All were fine with her. Then she paused and looked up. “Cohabitation?”

  Claire sighed. “It would be best if you’d move in with me to prove that we’re a happily committed couple.”

  “Couldn’t we be a happily committed couple who decides to wait to share a bedroom—and a house—until we’re married?”

  Mercedes laughed. “I think you two will get along just fine.”

  Lana and Claire glanced at each other.

  Claire looked as unconvinced as Lana felt. Finally, Claire said, “It’s not as if we’ll be living together forever.” She sounded as if she needed to convince herself as much as Lana. “Once I sign the contract, you can move out right away, and I will tell everyone we broke up because I realized I’m not over my fiancée…ex-fiancée.”

  Lana considered it. Fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money, and it was an acting gig…kind of…even if she wouldn’t be able to put it on her resume. She would even save on utilities for a couple of months while she lived with Claire.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up the pen again and signed the contract. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” She batted her lashes at Claire. “You got yourself a fiancée.”

  Chapter 4

  Lana slid her roller skates into a moving box, closed it, and watched as her friend Jill taped it shut.

  “How did the audition go last week?” Jill asked when they started on the next box.

  “It was a disaster.” Lana drew on her acting skills to keep her face impassive and not give away that it hadn’t been an ordinary audition. “My co-star was as talented as a piece of wood, and when I got home, I discovered that the price tag was still sticking out from my blouse.”

  “So you didn’t get the part?”

  Lana gave a noncommittal grunt that could mean yes or no.

  “I’m sorry. I thought for sure they’d take you. The description of what my acquaintance said they were looking for fit you to a T—someone unconventional, not a cookie-cutter Hollywood starlet.”

  “It’s okay,” Lana said lightly. She didn’t want Jill to feel bad. “At least this way, I’ll have more time for my new relationship.”

  Jill straightened from where she’d been bent over a box. “You know, I didn’t want to say anything, considering I’m always pushing you to go out and date, but this is crazy.” She swiped a strand of her red hair out of her face and regarded Lana with a shake of her head. “Up until a couple of days ago, I had never heard of this woman, and you’re already moving in with her! How long have you even known her?”

  Lana ignored the question. “Hey, you and Crash moved in together pretty fast too, didn’t you?”

  Crash, Jill’s girlfriend, squeezed past them with a moving box. “Not as fast as I wanted to because this beautiful woman was too busy trying to convince both of us that what we had was just a physical thing.” She paused behind Jill and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

  Jill shuddered and leaned in to her. “Well, I didn’t think there could be a happy ending for us, but I’ve never been so glad to be proven wrong.”

  When Jill turned around and they kissed, Lana looked away to give them some privacy.

  Finally, Crash tore herself away to carry the moving box outside.

  Jill fanned herself, flushed from Crash’s kisses. “If your new girlfriend is anything like Crash, I guess I can’t blame you too much for falling head over heels.”

  They both turned and watched Crash as she slipped out the door.

  Sweat gleamed on her bare arms, which were well muscled from her work as a stuntwoman. Crash threw a glance back over her shoulder and flashed Jill one of her confident, sexy grins. In her ripped jeans and faded tank top, she looked as different from Claire as possible while still belonging to the same species.

  “No,” Lana said. “She’s nothing like Crash. She’s…” Straitlaced and posh. “…hard to describe.” She let out a dreamy sigh. “Words can’t really do her justice.”

  “Do you have a picture of Wonder Woman?”

  Damn. She should have thought of that before she had told Jill about her supposed new relationship. But then again, she didn’t have much experience in lying to her friends. She really hated deceiving them, but she had signed a non-disclosure agreement, and if she told anyone about this fake fiancée deal, Claire would probably sue her ass faster than she could say breach of confidentiality.

  “She’s not Wonder Woman,” Lana said to buy herself some time.

  “She is if she finally got you to believe in love again after what Katrina did to you.”

  Lana didn’t want to talk about her ex, so she pulled her smartphone from the back pocket of her jeans. Therapists like Claire usually had a website, didn’t they? She googled Claire Renshaw, couples therapist.

  Bingo! There she was.

  Dressed all in pastel colors, Claire certainly looked the part of the compassionate, but reserved counselor as she smiled into the camera.

  Lana scanned her bio. LMFT, PsyD… Claire—or, rather, Dr. Renshaw—had more letters behind her name than the alphabet. She had graduated summa cum laude from USC, a university Lana would have never been able to afford, even if she’d been interested in getting a degree.

  Jill perched on a moving box and pulled down Lana’s hand so she could see the display of the smartphone. “Is that her?”

  “Yes, that’s Claire.”

  Jill looked at the picture and let out a wolf whistle. “She’s hot! Well, if you go for the more…
um…”

  “…uptight type?” Lana chuckled.

  “Um, something like that. No offense.”

  “None taken. I know she’s not my usual type, but…” Lana faltered and searched for a believable excuse.

  “Well, sometimes the person we least expect to turns out to be exactly what we need,” Jill said softly, her gaze on the door.

  Lana suppressed a snort. Claire Renshaw certainly didn’t have anything she needed—except for her money. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Jill turned her head to look at her. Her green eyes seemed to drill into Lana. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Maybe because you’re answering a question with a question? My therapist calls that deflection.”

  “You’ve got a therapist? You?” Her friend came across as an eternal optimist. When they had first met on the set of a TV show four years ago, that was what had immediately impressed Lana. Jill had always been quick to make a joke or a witty comment, even after a grueling fourteen-hour day on set.

  Jill shrugged and studied the tips of her sneakers. “You know how things are in Tinseltown. Cattle calls are hell on the self-esteem, even for perfectly healthy people. But if you’re an actress with MS…”

  She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

  Lana absentmindedly fingered the scar on her arm.

  They looked at each other in silent understanding.

  Then Jill pushed to her feet. “Let’s get the rest of those boxes packed.” She paused. “Oh, what about your furniture? That won’t fit into Crash’s SUV.”

  “Um…” Lana’s mind raced as she searched for a good excuse. She couldn’t very well tell her friend that she wasn’t really moving out. She had told her roommate that she’d be gone for a couple of months because of a role—which was the truth, kind of. “I sold most of it to my roomie since I won’t need it anymore. Claire has a bed and everything else I need.”

  Jill grinned. “I bet she does.” When Lana poked her in the ribs, she just laughed. “Come on. The sooner we get all of the boxes packed, the sooner you can introduce us to Wonder Woman.”