by Hazel Kelly
But what if someone asked me out? I knew it was unlikely, especially since the only man I was speaking to regularly was Woody. And not only did he sleep around unapologetically, but he was still hung up on Amy Winehouse.
He said he knew the buzz about her was true as soon as he saw that beehive on her head.
Then again, maybe he was making a joke. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.
Anyway, what I really wanted to know was whether my fake boyfriend was dating anyone else. Not that it mattered necessarily, but it might reflect poorly on me if anyone in his social circle found out before the wedding.
Of course, being jealous of my fake boyfriend’s other fake girlfriends seemed a thought process that might take me straight to crazy town. So I was trying not to dwell.
Especially when what I really needed to do was impress him not with my misplaced jealousy, but with my design skills. At our next meeting, I wanted to make it clear that I was taking his deadline seriously and that if anyone was going to have to keep up in terms of making his vision a reality, it was going to be him.
I turned on my computer and as it chimed itself awake, I organized my desk.
Nora knocked on the door a second later.
“Come in,” I said.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, still in her coat. “The traffic was-”
“Save it, Nora. When you’re perpetually late, your excuses are meaningless.”
She hung her head and started unbuttoning her pink coat. “Sorry.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Can I ask you something?”
She nodded and slipped her coat off, revealing a black dress that was way too short for work, especially on a Monday… at least on any planet I’d ever been employed. Then again, I suppose having a sexy receptionist wasn’t the worst problem in the world.
“How come you were on time every day the first week after I hired you?”
She scrunched her face and rocked up on her toes. “Cause I wanted to make a good impression.”
I furrowed my brow. “So what changed?”
She squinted. “I made it?”
I shook my head. “Will you please try harder? I had to answer your phone twice this morning cause you weren’t here.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You did?”
“No. But that’s not the point.”
She exhaled.
“The point is, someday that phone is going to ring at nine o’clock, and if you’re not here to pick it up- which is your most important job- I’ll have to fire you, and I don’t want to do that.”
“Sorry, Carrie. I’ll try harder.”
“Don’t try. Just do, yeah?”
She nodded.
“Great. Now sit down for a second. I have good news.” I hadn’t told her about Thursday night because I could barely speak the next day after what went down. So I left early on Friday as planned, as if my meeting with Ben hadn’t happened yet.
She laid her coat over the back of the chair and sat down across from me.
“What is that smell?”
Her eyes went wide as she sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. The combination of sweat and Lynx was unmistakable. “You smell like a frat house.”
“There was kind of a stinky guy on the bus beside me this morning-”
“Where did you sleep last night?”
“At home.”
I shook my head. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Fine. I had a date.”
“A Tinder date?”
She nodded.
“Have you checked the contents of your purse this morning?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
“How’d it go?”
“At first, I wasn’t so sure,” she said, crossing her legs so I could admire the run in her tights half way up her thigh. “Cause his job kind of freaked me out.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s in taxidermy. His whole family is.”
“Interesting.”
“I thought so, too. Until I asked him what the weirdest thing he’d ever stuffed was.”
I crossed my ankles under my desk. “And?”
“He said his neighbor’s grandma.”
I raised my eyebrows. “He stuffed his neighbor’s grandma?”
She nodded. “Gave her glass eyes and everything. Even stuffed her saggy tits.”
I furrowed my brow. “Was he joking?”
“I don’t think so. He knew too much about it.”
“Jesus.”
“He said it’s not his job to judge. That if his neighbors thought it was a sweet thing to do, the least he could do was make sure it was done right.”
I cocked my head. “Is that even legal?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“And you went home with this guy?”
“Only to see his stuffed animals.”
I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose.
“You okay?”
I dropped my hand. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I didn’t either once I got there,” she said. “That’s why I figured the less talking the better.”
“So you stayed over? On a work night? With a guy who admitted to you that he knows how to gut and stuff mammalian flesh?”
She shrugged. “I told you what my deal breakers were.”
“You know you can always add new deal breakers to your list-”
“I know,” she said. “But he was funny. And I didn’t stay over. I got too freaked out by his penis and left to stay at a friend’s.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“It wasn’t mangled or anything,” she said. “I just think if I were him, it would’ve been the first thing I stuffed.”
I felt my cheeks flush and thought of Ben- or rather- his anatomy.
“So I don’t think he’ll be seeing me again.”
“You’re a brave woman, Nora. Maybe too brave.”
“Or maybe stupid,” she said. “I swear I’m starting to get a bit disillusioned with dating. There are so many freaks out there, and meeting them is wearing me out. I feel like I’m going to be gray by the time I finally find someone who shares my obsession with The Big Bang Theory, My Little Pony, and Japanese Tea Ceremonies.”
“And who isn’t a racist animal hater who takes off their clothes on extended business trips?”
“Exactly.”
I swallowed. “At least you know what you want. And I’m sure your perfect match is out there. You just have to keep your eyes peeled.”
She nodded. “Or in the words of The Millionaire Matchmaker, ‘Never, never, never give up.’”
“I’m pretty sure that was Winston Churchill.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
“So what’s the good news?”
“I went to see Mr. Abbott’s club on Friday.”
She clasped her hands together and moved to the edge of her seat. “And?”
“We got the job.”
“Fantastic!” she said. “That is absolutely deadly!”
“Yeah, deadly.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” I said with a smile.
And then I slid a list of things I wanted her to research across my desk, starting with ergonomic bar layouts.
Chapter 4: Ben
I was thinking of texting Carrie something filthy when Christophe came back from putting our order in.
“You wanted a milkshake with your burger, right?” he asked, sliding into the red booth across from me.
“Yeah, chocolate.”
“Perfect,” he said, putting a plastic number card on the table between us so the staff could find us when our food was ready.
“How are things at work?” I asked, leaning back.
He smoothed down his tie and scooted in so he could straighten his legs without kicking me. “It’s fine,” he said. “I hate defendi
ng blatantly guilty parties, but somebody’s got to do it, ya know?”
“You could always take on some pro bono work to balance out your-”
He laughed. “What? And defend people for free? Out of the goodness of my heart?”
I shrugged.
“No thanks,” he said. “We have to do a few of those every year anyway so we don’t entirely lose our humanity, but you gotta defend the big boys to get the big boy paychecks.”
“How are things going with that intern you had your eye on?”
“Some other jackass got to her first,” he said, running his hands through his shiny brown hair. “She’s practically eating out of his hand like a lapdog.”
“Ouch.”
“It’s fine. She’s not that amazing. Plus, it’s better for me to keep my play separate from my work.”
“Probably.”
“Though I’m starting to think that’s not what you’re up to.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hadn’t told him about what happened with Carrie at the club, which was unusual. Normally, we were all about one-upmanship when it came to bragging about our conquests. But she wasn’t a conquest, and I didn’t want to cheapen what we had by opening it up to Christophe’s comedy hour.
“You’ve got the hots for that Carrie girl.”
“She’s not a girl.”
“Oooh,” he said, wiggling all his fingers. “My bad.”
“And our relationship is strictly professional.”
“If you think I can’t tell when you’re into somebody, you must think I’m a lot more dense than I look.”
“I know you’re denser than you look.”
“Still, what’s going on with that?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. She agreed to do the design for the club-”
He nodded.
“And to be my date for my dad’s wedding.”
His eyebrows jumped up his face. “What?!” He raised a finger at me. “I knew it!”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Two chocolate milkshakes,” a young girl said as she slid them across the table.
“Thanks,” I said, dragging one towards me and ripping the paper top off the straw.
“Damn,” Christophe said, his eyes following the waitress as she walked away. “I bet her milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard.”
“Yeah. All the seventeen year old boys, you creep.”
“She’s totally legal.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said, sucking some freezing chocolate shake up my straw until the sweetness melted against my tongue.
“Speaking of milkshakes,” Christophe said. “Have you fooled around with her yet?”
“With who?” I asked, desperate to keep him as far off the trail as possible.
He cocked his head. “You know who.”
“No. I haven’t.”
“But you’re going to.”
I sighed. “I don’t know, man. She just got out of a pretty serious relationship. If anything happened, it would probably only be cause she’s on the rebound.” Was she? Is that all Thursday night was about?
“Since when do you give a shit about women’s motives?”
“I don’t. I’m just saying. I don’t know if she’s looking for anything like that.”
“So why ask her to your dad’s wedding?”
“Convenience.”
“Sorry.” He furrowed his brow. “How is bringing someone who isn’t a guaranteed fuck to a wedding convenient?”
“Because I enjoy her company,” I said. “Plus, Ella wouldn’t have left me unattended with her bridesmaids anyway.”
“Yeah, right. She’ll be too busy making eyes at your dad to know what’s going on.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “And that’s when I make my move.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded. “I’ve had my eye on Jackie for some time now.”
“You could do worse.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Can I do better?”
I cocked my head. “Hard to say. I don’t know who the other bridesmaids are yet.”
“Keep me posted,” he said, swirling his straw through the whipped cream on his milkshake as the smell of a passing tray of burgers nearly knocked us out.
“And if anyone asks, Carrie and I are dating.”
He craned his neck forward. “What?”
“It’s just for pretend.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t need you to get it. I just need you to go along with it.”
He shook his head like there was water in his ears and leaned his elbows on the table. “Let me get this straight. You’ve gotten a gorgeous woman to pretend she’s your girlfriend?”
“That’s right.”
“Why don’t you just ask her out for real if you like her so much?”
It was a good question and not one that hadn’t occurred to me. “Cause. We work together. That would be bad business.”
“Sounds like the alternative is messy business.”
“I just need a relationship that I don’t have to take seriously to trick my dad into taking me seriously.”
“But you don’t even know if that will work.”
“True,” I said. “But worst case scenario, a beautiful girl pretends to be into me for a day.”
“And what if she’s not pretending?”
“I guess I won’t know, will I?”
He shook his head. “That sounds like a nightmare.”
“Says the man who has no date for the big day.”
He furrowed his brows. “What the hell would I want a date for? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
I rolled my eyes.
“And you’re letting me down, man. When was the last time we went to a wedding and didn’t both get laid?”
“When your grandparents renewed their vows on your dad’s boat.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It might’ve if you hadn’t threatened to cut my balls off if I so much as looked at your sister.”
“That threat hasn’t expired by the way.”
“I figured.”
He leaned back. “Other than that, though, we always get some at weddings.”
“So who says this time will be any different?”
He extended his hand in my direction. “You and your bullshit charade. You’re jeopardizing everything.”
“You don’t know that.”
He squinted and turned an ear towards me. “Hold on a minute.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Exactly how far is this woman willing to go to convince everyone she’s your girlfriend?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He scoffed and folded his arms. “I know better than to ask how far you’re willing to go.”
I smiled. “You know me so well.”
He shook his head. “I still think this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Why?” I laid my wrists on the table and looked around to see if any burgers appeared to be coming my way. “I think the whole thing is brilliant.”
“Maybe in your head, but I think your confusing arrangement is much more likely to leave you with a headache than a wet dick.”
“Ye of so little faith,” I said. “This is so much cleaner than trying to find an actual date or trying to prey on Ella’s bridesmaids. The whole thing is so straightforward. I don’t see what could go wrong.”
“Trust me. If there are people involved, it can go wrong.”
I shook my head. “Not with Carrie. She’s great. And she knows the deal. It’s just a harmless charade that’s going to benefit everyone in the end.”
Christophe shook his head. “Tell yourself whatever you want, but no woman sleeps with a man she doesn’t genuinely have feelings for.”
I took a sip of my shake.
“So if you do hook up, and you keep telling yourself it’s
all harmless fun, then you’re the dense one. And when neither of you can tell fact from fiction anymore, you’re going to have a mess on your hands.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Nothing is going to get confused or go to shit.”
“Whatever.” Christophe lifted his straw and pushed his cherry to the bottom of the scalloped glass. “All I’m saying is that if you really like her, be careful. Cause if she decides you’re just another guy who’ll jerk her around to get what he wants, it won’t be easy coming back from that.”
Chapter 5: Carrie
I saw Ella as soon as I walked in, just moments before the smell of roasted coffee beans flooded my nostrils.
After I wove my way to the corner table, she stood up and gave me a hug, which I thought was very kind considering we’d only met once. And it was just what I needed to feel at ease since this was my first time playing Ben’s girlfriend without his supervision.
“Thanks so much for coming,” she said, sitting down. “I got you a latte so you wouldn’t have to wait in line. Ben said you liked them, and they do a great one here so-”
“Thanks,” I said, wondering what other lies he’d told about me since he’d been out of my sight. Not that I didn’t like lattes, but given a choice it wouldn’t have been my first. Then again, anything would’ve been better than standing in that ridiculous line. “That was thoughtful of you.”
“So I know you’re probably strapped for time, but I was so excited about all the guests making their own snowflakes that I wanted to see if you had any other thoughts before I start pulling triggers.”
“Sure,” I said, hanging my coat on the back of my chair. “What ideas do you already have?”
“Well,” she said. “Like I told you before, I want the setting to be wintry but not necessarily Christmassy if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
“But I don’t want it to be so white I blend in with everything in my dress.”
“Of course.”
“So.” She slid my coffee towards me and squeezed her hands around her own, like it was an anchor that might keep her from becoming too animated. “I was thinking of lining the room with pine trees that could be kind of dusted with snow and covered in white lights.”
“That sounds gorgeous.”
“Cause if I go with birch trees, I think it’ll just get too branchy and white. What do you think?”