Possessive Fake Husband

by B. B. Hamel

  “I married you to fool the board,” he says. “I washed cars for Guava. I’d do more to get my way.”

  “But you have a line,” I say. “Which means you’re not totally lost.”

  He sighs and looks away. I reach out, not thinking, and touch his cheek. He reaches up and grabs my hand and holds it there for a long moment before leaning forward and kissing me.

  It’s soft and slow, and for the first time, I feel like it’s the kind of kiss that’s about moving somewhere else. It’s a kiss that wants to linger in itself, and he lingers on my lips, tasting me, holding me against him for a long moment.

  We break apart and I stare up into his eyes before smiling. I feel a chill run down my spine as he grins.

  “Come on, wife,” he says. “Let’s go home and figure out what we’re going to do from here.”

  I nod and let him lead me over to the car.

  12

  Josh

  That evening, I spend all my time on the phone. I make as many calls as I can, getting through to as many board members as possible. Most of them are busy, or their assistants talk to me, but a few actually take my call.

  The next morning, I wake Maggie up early. I’m tempted to go right into her room, but I knock on her door until I hear her moving around instead. “What?” she asks as the door open. She’s wearing shorts and a thin t-shirt, and I stare at her gorgeous body for a moment before answering.

  “We have a meeting,” I say. “Get showered and dressed.”

  “What meeting?”

  “I set it up last night,” I say.

  “Why so early?” She frowns, looking around. “I thought something was wrong.”

  “Sorry. You went to bed before I could tell you about it.”

  “Yeah, right. I was tired.” She sighs, closing her eyes for a second. “Anyway, okay, sure, meeting.”

  “I want to move before Seb has a chance to talk too much,” I say. “I’m sure he’s already been making calls, especially based on how many board members wouldn’t talk to me, but I think we still have a chance if we move fast.”

  “Faster than we already were?” She sighs. “Right. Okay.”

  “It’ll be fine. It’ll be good.” I grin and shake my head. “Less thinking, more doing.”

  “Right.” She hesitates. “I’m going.”

  “Sure, sorry. I guess I can’t stand here while you shower.” I tilt my head. “Unless…?”

  She gives me a look then closes the door in my face.

  I chuckle and head downstairs. I make coffee and breakfast, and she joins me about a half hour later. We eat, drink, talk to each other in monosyllables, and then head out to the car.

  Duncan Trucking’s office is in a suburb just south of the city, not far from the airport. It’s tucked back in a small office park, and we ride along the winding road, staring at tiny signs, until I spot his name. I take the first space available and turn to Maggie.

  “Okay,” I say. “Duncan Trucking. He’s sort of in the middle of the list. I didn’t plan on going to him yet, but he took my call, so I figured I might as well try.”

  “What’s he like?” she asks.

  “He’s not like Guava, if that’s what you mean. I doubt we’ll be washing cars.”

  “No, I figured he wouldn’t be. I don’t think there’s another Rupert Guava in this world.”

  He laughs. “Trucking is a decent guy. Another lawyer, relatively successful private practice. Pretty standard lawyer stuff.”

  “Lawyer stuff, huh?” She grins at me. “Is that the technical term?”

  “Yep,” I say and kill the engine. “Come on, let’s go save our companies.”

  I get out and she follows along. I head up to the front door and along a creaky, rug-covered floor and stop in an empty waiting room. The receptionist looks up, checks her computer, and smiles.

  “Are you Josh?” she asks.

  “That’s me.”

  “Great. Duncan will be with you in a second. Take a seat.”

  I grab a chair against the far wall and Maggie sits down next to me. There are magazines spread out on the coffee table like we’re in a doctor’s office waiting room. Maggie hesitates then grabs a fishing magazine.

  “Bass season is big this year,” she says, thumbing through.

  “You a big angler?” I ask.

  “What’s that?” She frowns at me.

  “Angler is slang for a fisherman.”

  “Oh, right, totally. I’m a huge angler.” She pretends to cast a rod.

  I laugh just as Duncan steps into the waiting room. He’s an older man, thin with graying hair and bushy gray eyebrows. His eyes are dark and sharp, and he’s wearing a well-tailored expensive suit.

  “Hello, Josh. And I’m guessing this is your new wife?”

  Maggie gets up and puts the magazine down. She walks over and introduces herself. They shake hands as I join them.

  “Lovely to meet you,” he says, flashing me a smile. “Now I see why you’d marry the enemy’s daughter.”

  “Everyone keeps calling him the enemy,” I say as we follow Duncan back into his office. “But I don’t see it that way.”

  “How do you see it?”

  “Competitor. And ally.”

  He laughs as we step through a door. His office is neat, almost obsessively clean. Everything is in its perfect spot. The filing cabinets each have a letter assigned to them, the books are arranged by last name and genre, and the chairs are immaculate. Duncan gestures for us to sit as he gets behind his own desk. His pens, stationary, even his laptop are placed just so.

  “Well then, how can I help you?” he asks. “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised when you called.”

  “Were you?” I tilt my head. “I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  He smiles. “I’ve heard something, I’ll admit. But I’m not sure what it is just yet.”

  I laugh and gesture at Maggie. “Maybe she can tell you.”

  She looks surprised and glances at me. “Ah, I don’t know,” she says.

  “No, go ahead,” Duncan says. “I assume Josh here brought you for a reason.”

  “Ah,” she says. “Yes, right. Well.” She clears her throat. I can tell she’s nervous, and I did put her on the spot… but I know this is the right call.

  I glance at the bookshelf to the left. Duncan has four children, all daughters. He has a thing for women, not in the pervy weirdo sort of way, but a soft spot for what he probably refers to as ‘the gentler sex’ or something like that. He fancies himself some kind of gentleman, and I have a feeling that hearing this from Maggie might go over better. I could be wrong, but it’s a hunch at least.

  “We’ve been talking to some other members of the board,” she says. “Along with my father.”

  “And how is your father?” Duncan asks.

  “He’s doing well. But he’s concerned, just like everyone else is, about the trajectory of our businesses.”

  Duncan frowns. “Our businesses? I thought he only cared about Bushings.”

  “He cares about the industry as a whole,” she says. “And we’ve all noticed the big companies have been eating up the little players for a long time now. From what I can tell, Cork and Bushings don’t have much longer before they both go out of business or get swallowed up.”

  Duncan nods slightly, a little frown on his face. “I’ve had some… similar thoughts.”

  “We want to merge them.” She smiles and leans toward him. “Individually, we’ll both fail. But together…” She trails off.

  Duncan frowns at us. “Merge Bushings and Cork? I can’t see it ever happening, truth be told.”

  “But it will,” I say. “Guava is on board. I can get others.”

  “And Seb?” He raised an eyebrow. “You know he’s been advocating against you.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. We spoke to him yesterday, and—”

  “No, I mean since the day you took over.” Duncan sighs and shakes his head. “That man. He wanted his own hand-picked s
uccessor, and he was livid when you took charge. The rest of us didn’t much care either way, figured you’d be as good as anyone, and besides, you knew the business.”

  “I had a feeling,” I say, trying to keep my anger from my voice. I knew he’d go against me now, but I didn’t realize he’d been doing it for a long time.

  “Seb will never let these businesses merge. What’s there to gain in it? I think he just wants a quick cash-out. He’s done, so to speak.”

  “What about you?” Maggie asks. “You don’t seem done.”

  He gives her a thoughtful look. “No, I don’t feel ready to be put out to pasture just yet.”

  “So what do we do?” she asks. “We want to merge these two companies and take on the big guys. That’s the only way we’ll all survive and thrive for years to come.”

  Duncan nods his head and looks between us. “I do like the idea,” he says. “As much as the board’s always seen Bushings as the enemy, you’re right, they aren’t really. The big guys are the real enemy. They’re the ones that’ll take us all down.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I just can’t see it happening.”

  “Tell me what I can do to convince you,” I say. “I believe in this. I want to turn Cork into something big, and we can do that with Bushings. Tell me what I need.”

  Duncan strokes his chin for a moment then smiles. “I have a nephew,” he says.

  I sit back, my heart beating fast. “Do you?”

  “He’s not a bad boy,” he says, then stops himself. “He’s been trouble for my sister.”

  “I see.” I gesture for him to go on.

  “Well, ah, I’d like you to give him a job. It doesn’t have to be a management position, but something in marketing, perhaps.”

  I glance at Maggie. “I can’t just… give him a job,” I say. “Does he have any qualifications?”

  “Oh, yes, he has a degree from Duke. And he worked for AT&T for a year before he, ah… quit.”

  I nod a little and assume the kid got fired.

  “So he knows the industry a little bit and he went to a good school. I’m not sure why he hasn’t gotten a job somewhere else already.”

  “He’s just… misguided.” Duncan frowns. “He makes a living playing poker online. Oh, it drives my sister crazy. She just wants him to have something steady, something with a future. Playing online poker isn’t steady and there’s no future in it.”

  I look at Maggie again then slowly nod. “Okay. If I convince this nephew to come work for us… you’ll vote to merge?”

  “That’s the deal,” Duncan says. “Not graceful, but it’s honest at least.”

  “I can do that. Have your assistant email me his information.”

  “Great.” He grins. “Truth is, I don’t like Seb. I think he’s a pompous ass. I’d love to see Cork continue on.”

  “You and me both then.” I stand, shake his hand, and hustle Maggie out of there before he can change her mind.

  Back out in the car, she turns to me. “That went really well,” she says. “I mean, we’re sort of bribing him, but…”

  I wince. “I know.”

  “But it’s not cash at least!” She laughs and leans toward me. “Come on, it’s just one job.”

  “I know. It’ll be fine. Who knows, maybe the kid will be decent?”

  She shrugs. “I’m sure he’s not bad. I mean, he went to Duke and worked for AT&T. And now he’s a professional poker player, so you know he’s good at math.”

  “True,” I say. “Very true.”

  “What’s his name? Did you get an email?”

  “Hold on.” I pull out my phone and check. “Oh, yeah, just came in.” I frown at it for a long moment.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “His name is Tyler… but he goes by Slim Jeans.”

  She groans. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Slim Jeans.” I show her the message.

  She cracks up and Googles the name. She shows me a picture of a thin pale kid wearing a backwards flat-brimmed hat and holding up playing cards.

  “Well, shit,” I say. “That’s not bad. At least he doesn’t have face tattoos.”

  “Give him a year and a Soundcloud account. He’ll be a mumble rapper in no time.”

  I groan and start the car. “You call him. I have a feeling he’ll respond better to a female voice. Try to set something up with him for later today or tomorrow.”

  “Got it.” She takes out her phone and grins. “Should I ask for Mr. Jeans? Or does he just go by Slim?”

  “Stop.” I glare at her and laugh. “Just call.”

  She dials the phone as I pull out into traffic, heading back into the city.

  13

  Maggie

  Turns out, Slim Jeans didn’t actually go by Slim Jeans anymore. “That was my old gamer tag,” he says as we follow him up a few flights of stairs. He has an apartment in downtown Philly, and his building has a gorgeous marble entryway, though the stairs themselves look a little rundown.

  “What do you go by now?” I ask him.

  “Just Tyler,” he says. “Poker community likes real names, I guess.” He shrugs. “Whatever.”

  I glance back at Josh, who grins. We’re both in casual clothes, which was a good call, since Tyler met us downstairs in a zip-up hoodie and a pair of gym shorts and sandals. He has dark messy hair, pale skin, a patchy beard, and a hooked nose that looks a lot like his uncle’s.

  He leads us to the top floor, up to the very top apartment. The ceilings are high and the place is actually really nice, except there’s junk all over the place. “Sorry for the mess,” he mumbles, kicking aside a pizza box.

  “You live alone?” I ask him.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I mean, I had a roommate for a while, but it didn’t work out.”

  “What happened?” Josh asks.

  “Uh, he didn’t like me vaping all the time or some shit. And I played my music too loud late at night. It’s like, it’s not my fault he had to get up so early for work, and I like played poker late at night, you know? It’s my place too.”

  “Right,” Josh says. “Definitely.”

  He leads us up into his living room. There’s a couch against the right wall, a TV above the fireplace opposite, a large wooden table with long bench seats against the other wall, and an impressive desk next to the fireplace. The desk has his computer set up, which is the only place in the whole apartment so far that looks even slightly organized. Headphones hung on hooks, a professional microphone, and some serious monitors rounded out the display.

  “So, uh, yeah,” he says, shrugging. “This is my place.”

  “Do you stream your poker games?” Josh asks.

  “Sometimes,” he says. “Mostly I stream like, League of Legends. Do you know it?”

  “Just by name,” Josh admits. “Not much of a gamer anymore. Used to play Counter Strike back in the day.”

  “Oh, sick, I love a little Counter Strike.” Tyler grins. “You guys want a beer? Here, take a seat, I’ll get beers.” He hurries through a side door and disappears into a kitchen.

  We sit down on the bench near the table. “How old is this guy?” I whisper to Josh.

  “Twenty-nine,” he says.

  “Oh, wow. I would’ve guessed twenty at most.”

  “I know.” He frowns. “I don’t know how the hell we’ll convince this kid to work for us, or if I even want him to.”

  “We have to try at least.”

  Tyler comes back with three Bud Lights. He opens the tabs and hands them out.

  “Well, uh, cheers or whatever.” He slugs his back. I take a sip and set it down.

  “So, Tyler,” I say. “Do you know why we’re here?”

  He shrugs and sits on the couch. “I’m pretty sure I can guess.”

  “Well, your uncle sent us.”

  “Yeah, figured.” He laughs. “That dude’s nice and all, but he’s always, you know, on my case.”

  “About what?” Josh asks.

  “Well, you
know, my mom. I get along fine with her, but Uncle Duncan thinks I’m, like, abusing her good will. That’s the phrase he keeps using.”

  “I see,” Josh says, glancing at me.

  I sigh then force myself to smile at Tyler. He smiles back, a little awkward, and I force myself not to see him as some frat boy reject. Instead, I try to see him for what he is: an adult man that refuses to grow up, and is now stuck between two worlds, not belonging in either.

  “Listen, I’m going to be straight with you,” I say. “We need you to come work at Cork Electric.”

  He snorts. “No thanks.”

  “I know the idea of working for a big company probably sounds awful to you,” I say. “But the pay will be good, the hours will be reasonable, and the work won’t be boring.”

  “Yeah, okay, all that sounds good. Can you pay me three hundred thousand per year?”

  I blink and shake my head. “Uh…”

  “No,” Josh says. “We definitely can’t.”

  “That’s how much I made last year. I’m on track to make more this year.” He shrug. “I know my place is a shithole. I know I act like a dick most of the time. But I’m making really good money. Between streaming and poker, I do really good, you know?”

  Josh gives me a bewildered look. “So why does your uncle want you to stop?”

  “He thinks it’s a shitty job or whatever,” Tyler says. “I mean, he thinks I’m just some asshole, you know? He doesn’t care if I make money. He thinks I’m embarrassing.”

  “Ah,” I say softly. “That’s really crappy of him.”

  “Right?” He shrugs and takes another swig of beer. “Look, I get it. Uncle Duncan’s like, this fancy, buttoned-up guy, right? And I’m his loser nephew.”

  “He thinks your mom is bothered by your, uh… lifestyle.” I’m not sure how else to put it.

  He laughs. “Yeah, she doesn’t love it. But I think Uncle Duncan cares more than she does.”

  “Well, fuck.” Josh takes a long drink of beer.

  “What do you guys care about this, anyway?” Tyler asks.

  “We’re trying to get your uncle to help us out,” I say. “It’s this whole thing.”