Page 12 of The Art of Almost Losing It
My stepdad stares me down.
I hold his gaze.
Fucking liar, the lines on his forehead say.Dirty rotten liar.
I force a smile.
“Sounds like a plan. My girlfriend loves brunch.”
Bringher to brunch in the morning.
Fuck.
“What was I thinking?” I scream, slamming my hands down on the steering wheel.
The dinner went longer than my allotted two hours and blew past the extra thirty-minute buffer. There were multiple courses, desserts, after-dinner drinks, photos, more drinks.
Now it’s after midnight.
Brunch is at 8:30 a.m.
“So that’s breakfast,” Max said.
“Well, we couldn’t get a table for everyone any later.” Ryan kicked him.
And that means I’m fucked.
Just because it’s Manhattan in winter doesn’t mean it’s the North Pole. Magic happens here, but not this late.
If only I had a little more time.
But I don’t.
I am out of time.
I’m going to have to show up and make an excuse, which my stepdad will know I’m lying about, because he’s a pit bull who used to be in the FBI.
He probably already has his FBI buddies trying to find this mystery girlfriend.
I can’t hire an escort because she will obviously look like an escort, and then my siblings will mock me mercilessly—though my stepdad would be happy.
I start to call Spencer, because he seems like the type of person who could find a normal-looking escort, then stop.
I need another plan. I can’t bring more people into this lie. If Grayson were to find out…
I’ll go to a bar—the bars are still open. I’ll find a normal-looking woman and take her home then take her to brunch.
But with the cold, heavy rain, no one seems to be out. The streets are chillingly empty for Manhattan.
The few girls who have braved the elements don’t look “normal”—they’re all young twenty-somethings with fake pouty lips and breast implants.
I’m fucked.
My mom is going to finally see this as an excuse to fully jettison me from her life.
My stepdad will tell everyone I’m a sociopath, and I’ll be ostracized. Word will get around town, and no one will do business with me.
I grip the steering wheel as my mind spins, trying to think of a female I know who I could pass off as a girlfriend.
