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“Yeah. It’s always a good time. And it would be a great networking opportunity for you…give you a glimpse at what could be a possibility in your future.” He winks.
Clearing my throat as sweat drips down my butt crack, I flash him the biggest smile I can muster. “We’ll be there. Thanks for the invite.”
“My pleasure. Now get to work, boys.” With a mock salute, he exits my office, and Jeffrey closes my door once again.
“I’m fucked.” Pulling on my hair, I begin pacing again.
“Yeah, you are. What the fuck were you thinking, Damien?”
“I don’t know, okay?” I say, throwing my hands up in the air, but then irritation sets in. “I just think it’s bullshit that we weren’t given the same opportunity because we don’t have vaginas.”
“Kind of like reverse sexual discrimination?” he asks.
“I guess.” I shrug, and then reach for my bottle of water on my desk, unscrewing the top and draining what’s left inside.
“Well, what are you going to do? Now you have to find a woman to play your girlfriend, and bring her to this dinner.”
“I know, I know.” Glancing at the time, my stomach growls just as the thought of lunch enters my mind. “I can’t think on an empty stomach, though. Let’s get some food and then I’ll figure out what the hell we’re going to do.”
“We? This was your idea, moron. Why am I involved?”
Stalking across the room, I get close to his face, his eyes widening as I prepare my pep talk. “Because this is your promotion too. We fucking deserve this, Jeffrey. And I hate to lose. Losing is not an option.”
* * *
“You didn’t say a name, right?” Jeffrey asks as we stand in line at The Chop Shop, a custom salad and sandwich bar down the street from our office. They have a meatball sandwich that would even make Joey from Friends cry. It’s what I order every time.
“No, I made sure of that.” At least part of my brain was thinking when I started babbling about my make-believe girlfriend.
“That’s good.” He blows out a breath. “So, where are you gonna find a girl?”
“Woman. I need a fucking woman. Someone that Dave would believe would date me, and is smart enough to play along with this charade and not make me look like a dimwit.” I’m not trying to toot my own horn, but I take pride in pulling in attractive women consistently. There’s a certain look I go for, and Dave has been out with us on one too many occasions to know that I have a type—shorter than me, but long legs that look great in heels, dark hair, and an ass—the woman has to have an ass.
“What if you call up a woman you’ve already been with? Ask her to do you a favor?”
“That would require me knowing their phone numbers, and that’s information I avoid at all costs.” Yeah, I’m not the monogamous type. Shoot me, but at least I’m honest about it. The women I choose to spend a night with are told way ahead of time what the terms and conditions are of our interactions.
And my policy has worked swimmingly up until now.
I wish I had an ex-girlfriend I could call upon for a favor, someone that still liked me enough after the relationship was over to agree to some shenanigans like what I’ve gotten myself into. Sadly, the longest relationship I’ve ever had was my long-standing competition against Charlotte Montgomery, my childhood nemesis, and royal pain in my ass.
Speaking of asses, the woman walking outside to the courtyard right now has an impeccable one.
Jeffrey snaps my fingers in front of my face. “Dude. Focus.”
“I’m trying.” I shake him off, glancing back to the menu, settling on the meatball sub that will bring me copious amounts of joy right now after this horrid day so far. “Do I put out an ad?”
“For a fake girlfriend? Do people do that?”
I shrug. “Fuck if I know. Tinder?”
“That’s only going to get you laid,” he admonishes. And I know it would help me relax right now, but that’s not going to solve my problem. “Match.com?”
“I’m not looking to get married, fucker. I’m looking for someone to pretend to be my girlfriend for like, a month…maybe two, tops. Just long enough to appease Dave, win this account, and prove that we can sell anything. I don’t want to lead someone on. No, whoever I find to agree to this has to know exactly what the stakes are—pretend to be head-over-heels for me in front of my boss, and perhaps tell me a little about her period to help us with this pitch.”
Jeffrey shudders. “Please, no period talk before we eat.”
I chuckle. “Agreed.”
We place our orders and as I turn around, déjà vu punches me in the gut.
Charlotte Montgomery? Is that really her?
I squint in her direction, watching her shovel salad in her mouth like if she doesn’t eat it fast enough, it will disappear. I wonder for just a moment if my eyes are playing tricks on me since I can only make out the side of her face, but the upturn of her nose is what caught my attention.
I always thought that little characteristic of hers gave her character that other girls lacked.
When she brushes her hair from her face, exposing her neck and causing her to turn her head, I confirm what my gut already knew.
Charlotte Montgomery is here, just a few feet away from me, and I can’t help but laugh at the irony of her appearance given the subject of the phone call with my mother this morning.
You see, there is nothing like the mention of this particular brunette to instantly put me in a sour mood, especially when I’ve spent the last twelve years pretending like the woman never existed. When we both left for college, I felt like I could breathe knowing I no longer would feel compelled to compete against her in everything, even though I knew she would also be in southern California for school. But Los Angeles is a huge city, home to almost four million people. I knew the chances of us running into each other were slim to none, so I didn’t think otherwise once we said our goodbyes after high school and started our own lives.
The truth is, our rivalry has roots that I’m not proud of. But damn, did I love making metaphorical steam come out of her ears. I loved watching her clench her teeth together when I beat her at anything, and the girl had sarcasm nailed down to a science at a very young age.
Fighting with her was my favorite source of entertainment growing up, which reminds me just how long it’s been since I’ve seen her—and the fact that I’ll be seeing her sooner than either of us would have hoped.
Pretending like Charlotte never existed has been a soothing balm to my soul. But seeing her right now only serves to remind me that she does exist, and so do her parents, who just so happen to be best friends with my parents. So when Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery decided to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary in Hawaii with their closest friends and family, guess who were the number one guests on the list? And guess who was second?
If you aren’t saying me right now, you’re not fucking paying attention.
The idea of seeing Charlotte again after all this time had my chest tight and tension building in my neck since I got off the phone with my mother this morning. And now with her directly in front of me, a new wave of nausea has spiked, but then a light bulb clicks on.
“What are you staring at?” Jeffrey slides directly in front of me, blocking my view of Charlotte sitting outside.
“Nothing. But I think I have an idea.”
His entire face perks up and then spins his head on his neck, surveying the customers around us. “Really? What? Who?”
“Let me make sure that she’s even an option before I get your hopes up. But if she’s up to it, then I’ll definitely keep you in the loop.”
He huffs out his displeasure like a toddler. “I don’t see why you can’t tell me.”
“Because convincing her to go along with this will be more difficult than shaving my balls.”
Jeffrey winces. “Damn. Doesn’t it fucking hurt when you nick one just right?” He hisses, and then cups his junk.
“It makes me wonder if having a vagina might be easier.”
And then he laughs. “Fuck no. I’ll cut my balls every day rather than deal with that.”
“Same, dude. Same.”
By the time our food is ready and I turn back around to see if Charlotte is still there, her table is empty. Jeffrey and I push through the door that leads to the courtyard where she was just sitting, and I search the area, but it’s as if she evaporated into thin air. And it makes me wonder if I was truly just seeing things, that my mind conjured her up since the mention of her name earlier today.
But once I turn my head to the right, I catch her striding down the sidewalk, elongated legs in sexy as fuck heels, her dark brown hair cascading down her back in loose curls, a white satin top and black pencil skirt hugging her body, and an ass that any man would appreciate.
Fuck me. Charlotte Montgomery has an ass, and that should have been my first warning that what I was about to do was not a good idea.
* * *
