Page 8 of Pretend To Be Mine

Chris shifted in his seat. Something was definitely up.

“Look, I want to catch up, I really do,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “But I need to get something out first, and I’m just going to say it because if I don’t, I’ll chicken out.”

“What’s up? Are you in trouble?”

He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“I have lawyers. Very good lawyers. Briggs knows even better ones⁠—”

“My sister needs a job.”

The words came out in a rush, like he’d been holding his breath and finally let it go.

“Your sister needs a job,” I repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

“That’s it? That’s the big emergency?”

Chris’s face flushed. “I know, I know, it’s not the end of the world or anything. But you know we’re friends, right? Real friends. And I would never ask you for anything if it wasn’t really important. Elizabeth—that’s my sister—she’s been struggling, and I thought maybe you might know someone, or know of something⁠—”

I held up a hand, cutting off his rambling. I almost laughed at the relief I felt, since I had been preparing myself to hear some bad news. “Chris, breathe. Of course I’ll help.”

He stopped mid-sentence. “Really?”

“Really. Tell me about her.”

Patty reappeared with two enormous burgers. Bacon and mayo spilled out from between the buns. Cheese oozed down the sides. I was pretty sure I could feel my arteries constricting just looking at it. Given what happened to my father, I probably shouldn’t.

“Enjoy, boys,” Patty said with a wink.

I picked up the burger, realized there was no dignified way to eat it, and just committed to getting dirty. The first bite was actually incredible. Messy as hell but worth it.

Chris was already three bites in. He chewed, swallowed, and said, “Elizabeth went to the Fashion Institute. Graduated a while back. She’s a designer—dresses, mostly. Really talented. But she can’t catch a break, you know? She’s sent out her portfolio to like fifty places and got nothing but rejections.”

I nodded, taking another bite. I knew that story. The fashion industry was brutal, especially for new designers. Talent mattered, but connections mattered more. It was an ugly truth but a truth nonetheless.

“She’s working as a waitress just to make rent,” Chris continued. “And I can see it killing her, watching this dream slip away. She won’t say it, but I know she’s starting to think about giving up. And Adrian, she’s good. Like, really good. She just needs someone to give her a shot. She can’t get people to even look at her stuff. She doesn’t have the right last name. The right friends.”

The protective big brother energy was radiating off him in waves. It was kind of endearing, actually. Chris had always struck me as laid back, but apparently his sister brought out his fierce side.

“Here’s what I can do,” I said, wiping burger grease off my fingers with a napkin that was far too thin to be effective. “Let me get through Fashion of Love Week. It’s consuming every waking moment right now. But after the finale, I’ll bring her in, look at her portfolio, and find her something at the company. Even if it’s just an assistant position to start—get her foot in the door, let her build some professional experience. Does that work?”

Chris’s whole face lit up. “Are you serious? Adrian, that would be amazing. She’s going to lose her mind, man.”

“I’m not promising creative director or anything,” I cautioned. “But yeah, I’ll make sure she gets a real opportunity.”

“That’s all I’m asking for. All she needs is a chance.” He took another massive bite of his burger, chewed, and nodded like he was still continuing the conversation in his head. “So, Fashion of Love Week. That’s the big event your dad was planning, right?”

“Yeah. Five shows across four cities over the span of a week.”

“Sounds intense.”

“That’s putting it mildly. This thing is a massive beast, and honestly, I may not survive.” I meant it as a joke, but it came out more serious than I’d intended.

Chris studied me, wrinkles forming in the middle of his forehead. “You doing okay, man? I mean, really okay?”

I considered lying, giving him the standard “fine, just busy” response I gave everyone else. But this was Chris. One of the few people in my life who knew me as just Adrian.