Page 36
I scrambled for my bag, pulling out the thick contract meant for Lauren, crossing the kitchen for the small breakfast nook that flanked one end. The table I’d sat at hundreds of times during my childhood took up the entire space, forcing me to squeeze along the edges before plopping onto a plastic-coated cushion.
“How’s this for a few months of being a girlfriend?” I plopped it down across from me, motioning for her to sit.
Her eyes went as wide as dinner plates, face in full panic mode. She’d made it to the section outlining payment. “Do I have to sleep with him or something?”
“What? No, you’re not sleeping with him!” I blurted out a little too quickly.
“Oh, thank god.” Her shoulders dropped out of her ears. “But who pays that amount to go on some dates with a man?”
“The Stars do,” I said with a chuckle.
My eyes wandered around the room while she read the rest of the contract. The table still wore the same off-white lace tablecloth covered by thick plastic, same one on the chairs. Pale yellow plastered walls were the backdrop to what felt like a sea of crosses and portraits of Jesucristo and la Virgensita.
I was pretty sure our moms hung them that close to the ceiling to drive home the idea that we’re being judged from heaven for our actions.
“Pórtate bien” should have been tattooed on my mom’s forehead so she wouldn’t have had to tell me as many times as she did. The irony was that when she’d given me those reminders, I’d been the picture of a perfect daughter.
“I don’t know, Chella.”
The hesitation in Itzel’s tone cut through my thoughts. Panic settled in my gut.
“You’ll only be his girlfriend until the start of the season.” I gripped her hand, afraid she might bolt back into the kitchen. “Then we’ll roll out a breakup announcement. Say some bullshit about how, because of the demands of his schedule, you two parted ways.”
I needed her to accept this.
“I’ve never even had a boyfriend. I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for.” She gnawed on her lip. “I can barely even look at the guy I’ve liked for years.”
“But this helps that, too,” I said, the idea just dawning on me. “There’s a baseball game you’ll get to go to, and Monroe’s throwing the first pitch. It’s José’s team.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t like him.”
“I know that. Though I’ve got no clue why, he’s way hotter than his younger brother,” I said, ignoring her irritated sigh. “What I was trying to get at was that maybe Miguel would be there.”
“I don’t know, Chella.”
“You’re the only one I trust with this.” My hands tightened around hers, voice barely above a whisper. “Truth is, I need this for my résumé. I need a career win as big as saving Josh Monroe’s reputation. Something that makes it so no one cares about my work history.” Shame stained my cheeks pink. “Otherwise, what am I going to say when they ask about my last job?”
She was quiet for a long moment before the corner of her lips pulled up the tiniest amount, and relief flooded my chest.
“When you told me we’d be hanging out a lot this summer, this wasn’t what I thought you had in mind,” she teased, holding out her hand. “Pen, please.”
I couldn’t get her one fast enough. The rock sitting on my chest eased with every letter of her name she signed on the dotted line.
It was nearly gone when she paused.
“This says that public displays of affection at outings might be required. Do I have to kiss this man, Chella?” Her voice rose two octaves. “Because kissing is listed here.”
Something sour turned in my stomach.
“No.” My response was so aggressive that she flinched. I cleared my throat. “I mean, no, you don’t need to kiss him. It’ll be fine for you to be photographed close to him and stuff.” A thick black strike cut through that line in the contract, my initials shining in the margins, taking ownership of eliminating the requirement.
“There. All done.” The smile I slapped on felt too big for my face, but I rolled with it, hoping she’d let the weird reaction slide.
She didn’t.
“Uh-huh.” Itzel’s brow ticked up a bit in suspicion. “Is there any other reason you don’t want me kissing him?”
“No.”
