Page 3 of His Curvy Catfish

“Can you ask someone else to go with you?” Mariah asked.

“Like who? The wedding is in less than a week, and my flight up to San Jose leaves tomorrow.” I tossed the blanket from my lap to the side and carried what little was left of the ice cream back to the kitchen. I secured the lid on the container and put it back in the freezer. “Maybe I should call Jessie and say I’ve come down with the flu or something.”

“You can’t do that,” said Mariah. “You’d never be able to live with yourself if you missed your sister’s wedding.”

I sighed and studied my now bitten-to-the-quick fingernails. “True. There’s no reason I can’t attend by myself anyway. I’m not required to bring a date.”

“Now you’re talking,” Mariah replied. “You’re a strong, confident, single woman. You’re a go-getter.”

I burst into another round of tears.

“All righty-y then, moving on to plan B,” said Mariah, grabbing her phone from the coffee table.

“There's this app called 'Rent-a-Date.' Have you heard of it?"

I shook my head and frowned. “Rent-a-Date? Is it some sort of escort service?”

Mariah shrugged. “I think it’s basically whatever you want it to be. My cousin said she used it to find a date for her office holiday party last year. She said the guy was good-looking and nice, and they had a fun night together at the party. I don’t think they made plans to see each other again after that, but Amy said the app was definitely worth it for the price, and she’d use it again if she ever needed to.”

“Hm,” I said, making my way back into the living room. I looked over Mariah’s shoulder as she searched for the app on her phone.

“See, here it is,” said, handing the device to me.

I scrolled through the terms, happy to read that everyone who signs up as a potential date is required to sign a confidentiality agreement.

“It seems legit,” I agreed.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Mariah. “Put in your information and let’s find out if there’s anyone available for Saturday night.”

I took a deep breath. I had to nothing lose. What would it hurt to run a quick search? After keying in my desired geographical area and the date and age ranges, I waited for photos of available men to pop up. A grand total of two. Great. I suppose beggars couldn’t be choosers. Hopefully at least one of them would look like someone who everybody would believe was my boyfriend. Including me. I hit the tab to view the first option. There was no way the pimply, scruffy-looking teenager smiling hopefully at the camera could possibly be twenty-five years of age or older, which is how I’d set the parameters.

Mariah wrinkled her nose. “I bet that kid used a fake driver’s license or something to get on here. Next.”

I swiped left and the second option appeared. I sucked in my breath. The guy was not only attractive, but exactly my type. Wavy blonde hair, chiseled jaw, playful smile. I reviewed his specs—name: Ace, height: 6’2”, body type: Athletic. Profession: Actor. Hometown: Las Vegas.

“Oh my God,” Mariah breathed. “You better book that guy before I do. Not that I’d cheat on Gabe though.”

I reviewed the fine print for the fee to hire him. It was more reasonable than I’d expected. Granted, I’d have to buy him a plane ticket, but even figuring in that cost it would be a bargain for what I’d be getting. And who knows? Maybe he and I would even hit it off, especially given that he was in the entertainment industry like me, so we already had something in common. I suspected he was probably just starting out in his acting career, which would explain why he was using the app for a second income stream. I remember how it felt when I was getting my feet wet modeling, and I knew it was even harder for people who wanted to break into the acting world.

“All right,” I said to Mariah. “Here goes nothing,” Good thing I had my credit card number memorized. I typed it in quickly before I had the opportunity to second-guess myself. A burst of colorful digital confetti appeared across the screen and the deal was done. Ace would be all mine for my sister’s wedding.

Chapter Two

Brayden

“What have I just done, Buddy?” I said to my dog, a lab/pitbull mix with a missing eye who I’d rescued off the euthanasia roster from the local shelter. I put the phone down on top of the bedcovers next to me and ran my hand through my dark hair.

From his doggy bed in the corner of the room, Buddy raised his head and looked at me with his one eye as though assessing whether the situation was dire enough for him to expend the energy to get up and walk over to me to offer himself for comfort. As scary as my canine companion might appear

to most, he was really just a big old softie. Apparently deciding he’d let me figure things out on my own, Buddy rolled over and went back to sleep.

My brother would kill me if he knew that I’d used his photo and specs to sign up for a dating app. Offering him or, rather me, up for hire, that is. As if Neil would ever need any help when it came to women. I laughed bitterly and reached up to touch my right cheek, running my fingers lightly over the rough, raised scars that crisscrossed the surface. Even though it had been nearly two years since I’d been medically discharged from service after the crash, my burn scars were still sensitive. I was grateful when my vocational counselor at the Veterans Hospital found this job for me at Hillcrest Resort. It was hard enough accepting that my career as an Air Force pilot was over. And if I couldn’t fly in the military, I didn’t want to fly at all. My counselor had honed in on my love for cooking and being in nature. My therapist agreed that moving up here from the Air Force base would be good for me, give me a chance to start fresh and be in an environment that I found soothing. She was right. Napa was gorgeous, and the resort was five-stars, located right on the edge of a nature reserve and with every amenity one could dream of. While I was just a server at the restaurant—Palm & Pine, I had the ability to take advantage of my employee discount throughout the resort. Being here did the trick, or at least it was enough to get me motivated about my future again.

While I loved learning from the resort’s expert chefs, who were among the most well-trained and sought-after in the industry, and taking Buddy out for trail runs and long walks along the waterfront, I still hated being in the public’s view. Granted, customers always treated me nicely enough when I took their food orders and brought them their plates, but I didn’t miss their reactions when first laying eyes on me, no matter how much they tried to hide their looks of surprise, disgust, and sometimes curiosity. They were all there, written on their faces as plain as day. My therapist kept trying to convince me that most of what I was seeing was in my head, that I was projecting my own reactions onto others, because I hadn’t made peace with what had happened to me or accepted how it changed my life. Maybe she was right. I wished I could believe her. Guess I just wasn’t there yet. I was starting to wonder whether I ever would be.

But now I’d gone and done it. Gotten myself into a situation. I glanced at the empty tumbler on my bedside table.

“Buddy, I’m never drinking again,” I said.

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