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If I was attempting to apply my mother's "logic" to my problem, I was in deep, deep trouble. "What if I hired someone to act like my boyfriend and paid him enough so that he kept his mouth shut?"
"Who would you even ask? George Clooney? Chris Pratt?" She looked so excited, I was worried she was going to hyperventilate.
"I wish. But they're both married. I don't know… I don't know anybody I could ask." My mind racing a hundred miles a minute, I stared out the window at the tiny, pretty backyard of the house I'd saved and planned for.
What I needed was a body. A hot, handsome, strapping male body. I needed a showstopper of a guy to redirect the press. A super-hot guy who would do exactly what I said. I was pretty sure that didn't exist in real life, but this was Hollywood, and sometimes illusions seemed real here.
Huh.
I had a crazy idea about what I could do. Not only was it crazy, it was risky. Although I wasn't normally a risk-taker, I wasn't a quitter either. I'd clawed my way up over the past five years, doing a mindless sitcom and a string of pseudo-brooding indie movies, to get to where I was today—on the verge of real commercial success. I refused to watch my career crumble without putting up some sort of fight.
"I could always hire someone, I guess…" Maybe that would be easier than an actual boyfriend. Less messy. Less emotional. More of a business transaction.
"What?" Tori asked. "I'm not following you."
"Just give me a minute." I threw myself onto the bed and fired up my laptop.
I exited out of the XYZ screen so I wouldn't have to see that image of myself, my blond hair plastered against my forehead as I looked belligerently at the officer. Then I did a quick Internet search and found exactly what I was looking for.
What I couldn't believe I was looking for.
"Bingo," I said, finding a site for a service located in LA. "Tori, can you throw me my phone?"
Kyle
I was heading out for a burrito when my phone buzzed. It was Elena, the owner-operator of AccommoDating, Inc., the "dating" service where I was currently employed.
I picked up immediately. "Elena, talk dirty to me."
"Kyle, knock it off," Elena said briskly.
As usual, she was all business. I could just picture her in an impeccable suit, her short hair spiky with mousse. I wasn't sure how she'd gotten involved in the escort business; she always seemed so proper.
"I just had a call come in from a first-time client. Someone who could be very valuable as a source for future confidential referrals. Are you available for a long-term assignment?"
"How long?" My voice was neutral, but I cringed. If I had to spend a lot more ti
me with Mrs. Plastic Housewife, or someone with a similar disposition, I would probably develop a pretty serious drinking problem.
"It could run for a few weeks," Elena said, "depending on the circumstances."
Well, that was a new one. "Who needs an escort for a few weeks?"
"It's not that uncommon actually. My girls are often hired to take vacations with a client. In this case, it's more of an undercover assignment than a straight-up date."
"I'm totally lost right now," I said, raking my hand through my hair.
"The client is a young woman—a pretty famous actress, actually—who needs a fake boyfriend. The press has been giving her a hard time, and she has a premiere coming up. She needs a distraction in the form of a hot, new, devoted boyfriend."
I sat there, trying to understand what she was getting at.
Elena sighed in exasperation. "That would be you, Kyle. Come on, connect the dots with me."
"I would be the devoted boyfriend?" I said.
"Correct. If it works out, she might keep you on for a while longer, until things calm down. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in? Your earnings would be significant."
"I'm in," I said immediately. I needed the money badly. "You had me at the word young."
