Misadventures with a Book Boyfriend

by Blue, Victoria

  The panic inched up my throat again. Was I out of my league with this romance novel stuff? Maybe if I checked in with Janine I’d feel better. One major hurdle there—I had no idea which unit she lived in. I decided to take a little field trip to the leasing office, remembering the coy smile the sales agent always had for me when our paths crossed. Time to cash in on number two on my list. Maybe it was a marketable skill after all. Time to deploy a little Midwestern charm.

  Perfect! She was behind the desk inside the cool, air-conditioned office. I closed the door quietly, and she looked up from her computer monitor.

  “Hi.” Her smile was even and blazingly white. Typical Los Angeles perfection.

  “Hi. I’m Oliver.” I offered my hand in introduction.

  She shook it with an overly aggressive grasp, and I tried to disguise my wince behind an awkward smile.

  “I’m Meechelle. Can I help you with something? You live in unit one eleven, right?”

  “Uhh, yes, I do. Umm, I was hoping you could help me find my friend. Her name is Janine. I met her at the pool the other day. Real character.” I thumbed my fist over my shoulder toward the pool area, as if she wasn’t familiar with the lay of the property. Regardless, my phony discomfort was reeling her in like the catch of the day.

  I leaned across her desk a bit to imply a bonding moment between us. She ate that shit up too. Sometimes women just made it too damn easy. “This woman was a bit older than you and me, but she was really lovely, and I told her I wanted her to meet my mom when she was out visiting. And that’s just the thing. She’s coming tomorrow. And I didn’t get the unit she was in. Can you tell me that? Michelle, right?”

  “Meechelle. And I’m not really supposed to give out information like that. I could lose my job. And I really need this job until I start getting some callbacks, you know?” She looked around the doorway into the adjacent office. I followed her glance, not realizing there was another space attached to the one we were standing in. The last thing I meant to do was get her in trouble.

  “Hey, listen, don’t worry about it. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation.” I started backing away toward the door, knowing there was no way she was ready to see me leave so soon.

  “I have an idea, Oliver. Why don’t you leave your information with me? Do you have a business card or something? That way, if I happen to see Mrs. Peterman today—like, when she stops by to pick up the package that was delivered for her”—she pointed with an exaggerated motion to the large box in the corner—“I can let her know you’re looking for her.”

  Smart girl. I reached into my back pocket and came up empty. I had run out of the house so fast, I hadn’t bothered to grab my wallet. “Damn it.”

  “Here you go.” She was at the ready with a Post-it and a pen. I had to admire her quick thinking.

  “I really can’t thank you enough. I’ll put my cell number on here and my unit number too. If you see Mrs. Peterman, can you tell her that she could stop by? I won’t mind. She doesn’t have to call first. I should be home all day.”

  “I’ll let her know.” She was smiling at me in a strange way, like she was hearing something I wasn’t saying. “So, I have to work until the office closes today. Is that going to be a problem?” she asked.

  “With what?” I was genuinely confused.

  “Well, that’s until eight.” Her wide smile started to drop.

  “I’m not following.” Truly, I felt like I had missed a part of the conversation.

  “I thought you were just saying you wanted me to… You know what? Never mind. I think we just got our signals crossed. I’ll just make sure Mrs. Peterman gets your message.” Her face was transitioning from a dusty pink to a deep crimson before my eyes.

  “Okay. Thank you.” It wasn’t until I had walked halfway across the complex before I realized Meechelle thought I wanted her to come over tonight when she got off.

  Shit. I wasn’t half the player I thought I was. I better brush up my game if I had any hope of pulling off this book boyfriend bit.

  Chapter Three

  Janine’s and my mutual excitement for Book Boyfriend Inc. had grown into a frenzy over a venti latte at the corner Starbucks on Tuesday afternoon. Apparently, she had dropped by the rental office just after I’d been there talking to Meechelle and came directly to my place, balancing an enormous package on her hip when she arrived.

  I’d offered to carry the parcel to her apartment and then told her the main gist of BBI while we walked, and it was enough to pique her interest. She’d suggested we discuss the details over a cup of joe. By the time we’d left the coffee shop, we were as amped on possibility as we were on caffeine.

  Back at her place, she’d raided her library and emerged from her spare bedroom with a stack of books as tall as her sun-visor-topped head. She said it was my homework for the evening. I thought she was joking until I looked closer at the top book cover.

  Holy hell. What have I gotten myself into? was all I could think. I wasn’t a big fan of reading in the first place, and there were so many half-naked men on the covers and spines of the books, I was afraid of what I’d find within the pages.

  And now, the following evening in my condo’s foyer, it was time to review my studies.

  “Do you remember what I told you?” Janine’s respect for personal space had gone out the window as she straightened the lapel of my suit for the third time.

  “Yes. But stop asking me questions.” I batted gently at her hands. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Oliver. Trust me.” She dropped her hands but not her drill sergeant tone. “Women love these characters. They read the same book four and five times. Sometimes more. They know every detail about these guys. They know them better than they know their own husbands.”

  “Does any of that seem weird to you?” I couldn’t help but laugh. But the deadly serious look on Janine’s face quickly told me it was not a joking matter.

  “Okay, so the client listed the character Jason Riley specifically,” she said in a tone that was all business.

  “You’re familiar with this book, I assume?” I asked.

  “Isn’t everyone?” The word idiot was implied by her expression. “He is the alpha billionaire of all alpha billionaires. He’s probably the one who started the craze in the genre, honestly.”

  “So what do I have to do? Tell me the main points of this guy. I’m the Skywalker to your Obi-Wan. No, better yet…your Yoda.”

  “You didn’t read the books, did you? What was the first thing I said when you came to me with this crazy-ass idea?”

  “I hope you can speed read,” we recited in unison.

  My neighbor just shook her head in disappointment. Her face morphed into my father’s before my eyes. “You should’ve read the books, honey. He has so many one-liners, it’s not really something I can just tell you about. Can you postpone the date?”

  “I doubt that would be getting off on the right foot with the client. And I did read the book. The first chapter. Well, some of it. Okay…I skimmed a lot. Tried to stick to the dialogue mostly. Get the feel of the guy, you know? But Janine, let’s be real here. There are like twelve books in that tower you sent me home with.” Pacing seemed the only way to handle the nerves creeping up the back of my neck.

  “Oh!” Janine’s outburst made me jump mid-pace, and I bumped into the edge of the odd-shaped table in our entryway.

  “It’s perfect, actually. I can’t believe I forgot this! Jason Riley always cancels appointments with his leading ladies. It makes them crazy. He’s a workaholic. So, when the woman finally gets a few minutes alone with him, she feels like she’s the queen of his world. And he usually makes every second count, if you hear what I’m saying.” She waggled her eyebrows in case I didn’t pick up the meaning from the words alone.

  “Oh, I’m hearing you. So, it would actually fit the character to cancel?” I stopped pacing long enough to let the idea take root.

  “Yes! But he’s such a dick,
he always has his assistant call. So, I’ll pretend to be his assistant, Mary Jane. Do you have the client’s number? Oh, this is going to be perfect!” She clapped her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm contagious. I found myself relaxing as if this was all part of the plan the entire time.

  “You got so lucky she picked this book. I’m telling you, Oliver, you better read up on him tonight. You’ve got some big pants to fill.”

  “Isn’t the saying ‘big shoes to fill’?” I gave her a confused look while she dialed my first client’s phone number.

  “Not with this guy.” She laughed.

  I just shook my head, trying not to egg her on by laughing too.

  Janine was a pro. I listened to her call my first date…and cancel it. I had a brief moment of panic—what if the woman got pissed and didn’t reschedule?—but Janine handled that part too. By the time she disconnected the call, she’d scheduled another date for the following night. Same time, same place, and this time I knew I’d be better prepared.

  My slightly crazy neighbor was right. I’d totally escaped disaster by the skin of my teeth. I would spend the rest of the night reading the story about Jason Riley, and in the next twenty-four hours, I’d become him.

  “What’s the name of the book this guy is in again?” I scrolled through my phone and pulled up a book retail site to purchase the material I’d be studying. If I had it on my phone, it would also be on my tablet, and then I could take it with me if I got a call from my agent. I could also highlight important facts, which I couldn’t do in the books Janine had lent me.

  “Oh, honey.” Janine’s pitying tone dragged my attention from the screen of my phone to her commiserative stare.

  “What is that ‘oh honey’ crap? My mom does that when she’s about to tell me something really shitty.”

  “It’s not a book. It’s six books.” She reached out to rub my arm in consolation, but I yanked back out of her reach.

  “What?” The word leaped from my mouth as if it had free will.

  “Six. A series. House of Riley is a series of six books that takes place over a period of eight years. I think. Shoot, I don’t remember exactly, but really, it doesn’t matter. It’s about Jason Riley’s journey as a man, as he discovers what is truly important in life.” The woman recited the book facts as if she were doing a commercial for the publisher.

  Panic swelled up in my throat, squeezing my breath out in pants. “Janine!”—gasp for air—“I can’t read six books in twenty-four hours.”—sucking in oxygen—“I was already thinking one was pushing my abilities.”

  “Hey, sweetie, calm down. Here, sit down for a minute.” She eased me to the floor, right in the middle of the entryway of the condo. “You look a bit pale, honey. Why don’t you loosen your tie, take the jacket off? Here, let me hang it up for you.”

  I just did what she said. It was easier to listen and obey than to argue, as my brain faded back and forth from hazy to clear, oxygen not flowing easily due to the shallow pants I substituted for breathing.

  “Oliver? Oliver! Breathe normally, hon, or you’re going to pass out.” Janine tossed my suit coat to the side and dropped down to her hands and knees in front of me, putting her face level with mine. “Honey, listen to me. Deep breath. Come on, breathe with me. In…” She took a dramatic breath in so I would follow her example.

  In the middle of the impromptu Lamaze class, Skye came through the front door, right on schedule after a hard day at work. Originally, I had hoped to be long gone when she got home. Instead, an older-than-what I-usually-went-for woman was all but straddling my lap, right in the middle of our foyer. My tie hung loosely from my neck, and my suit coat was thrown haphazardly on the floor behind us. And instead of explaining what was going on? We both froze with guilty expressions on our faces.

  “Oh! Hi. Sorry. Sorry to barge in here.” Skye began to apologize but changed tactics when she got a good look at my face. “Oliver? Oliver! Hey, are you okay?” Skye joined Janine on the floor in a flash. “What’s going on? You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine. I just… It was just…” At a loss for what to tell her, I just fell back on the floor and threw my arm over my eyes. I could hear the rustle of bodies shifting as both women stood up.

  “What’s going on, Oliver? Spit it out.” Skye had the world’s most accurate bullshit meter, and this was definitely not the way I wanted to explain my new income-producing strategy to her.

  “Janine, you should go.” I mumbled the words from behind my arm that was still slung across my face like a four-year-old who was about to get scolded.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Janine was halfway out the door before she made one last welfare check.

  I rolled up to a sitting position so she would feel better about my condition and move along. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you. For everything. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” When she still lingered in the doorway, looking like she might start talking about the whole Book Boyfriend thing, I stood up and all but shoved her the rest of the way out the door. “Please. Just go. Seriously, I’m fine now,” I pleaded with her through my stare, and finally she caught on.

  “Okay. You have my number, though, if you need anything.”

  “I do. I appreciate it. And I appreciate your discretion with this whole situation, Janine. Like we talked about.” A little reminder seemed in order.

  I straightened my slacks and picked my jacket up when I came back inside while Skye closed the door behind me.

  Thoughts swirled around my mind. I could have said I wasn’t feeling well and gone to my room. Skye might’ve just left me alone and not asked any more questions. But that would have only gotten me through tonight. Eventually I would have to tell her what I was up to.

  I considered lying to her, telling her I’d landed a new contract with a signing bonus. It wasn’t very common these days, but some of the old-school agencies still did it. But Skye would definitely know if I had been shopping agents, and while I complained a lot about Harrison, I couldn’t ask for a better representative in this ridiculous industry.

  I needed to rip the Band-Aid off and just tell her my plans. Maybe she would be supportive. Maybe she would congratulate me for coming up with an innovative idea and help me think of some great marketing strategies.

  Maybe Michael Jackson and Prince would pop out of my bedroom closet and break out in a rousing duet of “Man in the Mirror” and I would be inspired to find a cure for the world’s food shortage.

  “I’m just going to call it a day. I’m not feeling so great, and I’d hate for you to catch whatever I’m coming down with.” I shielded my face from Skye with a big flourish. If there was one thing my best friend dreaded, it was catching something from other people—to the point of carrying hand sanitizer in every purse, briefcase, and desk drawer. She’d wear a surgical mask everywhere if people wouldn’t stare at her—because she’s afraid of that too.

  “Oh no. Is that what was going on when I walked in?” She started backing away from me infinitesimally. She was trying to be sly about it, but I knew what she was up to. “Why were you on the floor?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Just a dizzy spell.” Shrugging, I tried to seem nonchalant about the conversation. “I’ve been off my game all day. Best if I just go sleep it off, I think.” I felt my forehead with the back of my hand for affect. “Do I feel warm to you?” A few steps in her direction had her raising her hands in front of her in a full-stop motion.

  “I’d really rather not touch you, Ollie. No offense, but I just can’t afford to miss work right now. You understand, don’t you? The election is right around the corner.”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course. I have a thermometer in my medicine cabinet.” I rubbed the back of my neck and turned toward my own room. “I’ll see you in the morning, hon.”

  “Wait. Who was that woman?” she asked curiously.

  “Just one of the neighbors. Her name is Janine. Real nice lady. She and her husband live in the next building over.”


  “You’re hanging out with the neighbors now? Christ, Oliver, next you’re going to be in the Red Hat Society. Or scrapbooking.” She laughed at her jab but still gave me a sympathetic look. Skye had a big heart under her ice-queen veneer.

  “You know, if I didn’t feel so shitty, I’d take you over my knee.” I made the threat sound extra weak in my exaggerated sick voice.

  “Mmmm-hmmm. I wouldn’t make that threat too lightly around your new friend if I were you. She was looking at you like you were starring in her dreams last night.”

  “Sounds like someone might be jealous.”

  “You wish, Oliver! However, a decent spanking sounds pretty tempting right now.”

  My brows shot up into my hairline. “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole, young lady. Even if I weren’t sick, I’d walk right on by.” I knew my bestie was kinky, but there were things a guy just didn’t want to think about.

  “Yeah, better that way.” The wistful look on her face lingered as I trudged toward my room.

  “Exactly! Night, Skye Blue. Sorry I didn’t make you dinner tonight. You and Sunny the Cocoa Puff mascot are on your own tonight.”

  “That’s cool. You know I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.” Her lack of enthusiasm was comically opposed to the slogan’s normal delivery.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “Night, Oll. Feel better.”

  I closed my bedroom door and leaned up against it. I hated lying to her. There was no way she was going to be cool with me renting myself out to women.

  But I couldn’t dwell on that. I had a book to read. Make that six books to read. And one really important character to study. If this Riley guy was as popular as Janine claimed, I’d probably have other women requesting dates with him.

  Getting comfortable with a stack of pillows against my headboard, I opened my tablet and dived into the House of Riley. The first book in the series turned out to be pretty decent. I could respect Jason Riley on a dude level. He was a guy I could see myself being friends with. He was a bit of an ass with the ladies, but for some reason, they ate it up. And every guy had seen it happen in real life too. Ladies love the guy who treats them just a little wrong. He gives them the “good” so damn good that they overlook the bad. The guy had all the moves in the bedroom, and because the book was written by a woman, it was all but a roadmap of how to please the fairer sex.