Page 9 of Fake it for Keeps

4

HALLIE

Iwoke up to the distinct sensation of something warm and fuzzy pressed against my face. My eyes cracked open, and I found myself staring directly at Jinx’s butthole, approximately three inches from my nose.

“Dammit, Jinx, we’ve talked about this.” I shoved my cat away.

He let out an indignant meow before padding to the foot of the bed.

“Personal space. Ever heard of it?” I didn’t know why he insisted on putting his ass on my pillow. He had the entire bed and he felt his butt needed to be next to my face. Good thing I loved the little jerk.

My head throbbed, and my face felt tight and swollen. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, flipping on the light. The reflection staring back at me was a disaster. Mascara smudged under my eyes like a raccoon. Foundation caked in the creases of my skin. Lipstick smeared across my chin.

I hadn’t bothered taking off my makeup last night. Hell, I’d barely bothered getting undressed before collapsing into bed.

John had been insufferable until the bitter end. After the gala wrapped up around midnight, he’d insisted on going to some exclusive club, where he proceeded to get absolutely shit-faced on expensive whiskey that tasted like dirt to me. By three a.m., he was slurring his words and trying to convince me to come back to his place.

“C’mon, Janie,” he’d said, his hand sliding way too far down my back. “Let’s make this worth my money.”

I bailed in a hurry. Called a cab and left him standing on the curb, looking confused and irritated. The Faux agency might not be happy about that, but I didn’t care. We were dates, not prostitutes. I would never agree to have sex for money and Della had insisted sex was not a part of the contracts.

Although she did allude to some people falling into bed with their date off the books so to speak. If my date had been someone like… oh I don’t know, Colt… then yeah. I could definitely see how there might be some noncontractual sex.

But there was zero chance I would get in John’s bed. I didn’t care if he paid me a million dollars. I would rather walk into the sea.

I rolled out of bed and stumbled across the hall into the bathroom. I turned on the faucet and started scrubbing at my face. I hated wearing that much makeup. And I wore that stupid setting spray that made sure my makeup would stay in place until the end of time. I used at least ten makeup remover wipes. My skin felt raw by the time I was done, but I looked human again.

Sort of.

I pulled my hair into a messy bun and shuffled out to the living room, where the smell of coffee already filled the air. Hallie and April, my roommates, were camped out on the couch in their pajamas, both of them perking up the second they saw me.

“There she is!” April called out, grinning. “The woman of the hour.”

“More like the woman of the disaster,” I muttered, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

“That bad?” Hallie asked, tucking her legs under her. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that said, “Bad Decisions Make Good Stories,” which felt painfully appropriate.

“Worse.” I poured myself a generous cup and added extra sugar. “John was a complete ass. Rude, condescending, and by the end of the night, drunk off his ass.”

“Oof.” April winced. “So the Faux gig didn’t pan out?”

“Not exactly.” I settled into the armchair across from them, cradling my coffee like it was a lifeline. “I’ll probably only get a portion of the contract money. I broke the rules.”

“What rules?” Hallie leaned forward, always ready for gossip.

“I danced with another man.” I took a long sip of coffee, letting the warmth seep into my bones. “In front of everyone. Including John. He was pissed.”

April’s eyes widened. “You danced with someone else? At the gala? Who?”

I hesitated, the memory of last night flooding back. Colt’s hands on my waist. His breath against my ear. The way he’d looked at me like I was on the menu.

“Colt Jesson.”

The room went silent. Then both of my roommates erupted.

“WHAT?”

“Are you serious?”