Page 73 of Faking It
“Not fucking funny, Jacko.”
“Is it that hard for you to trust someone or—”
“Maybe it’s the fucking falling to the ground and breaking my neck part of it,” I snap and then pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration.
“Look at the bright side. You’ll be out of the tour bus, you’ll be getting some exercise, and you’ll get to see that fine ass of Harlow’s in a harness where I’m sure every curve is accentuated and then some.”
“I’ve already seen them, thank you very much.”
His laughter rings off. “No shit? That didn’t take you long at all. Then again, it’s you. Anytime after day one is considered a long time when it comes to Zane Phillips.”
“Well, if we’re going to play the part . . .”
“You might as well enjoy the benefits, and what are those benefits like?”
“No complaints here,” I murmur as I look at my work spread all around me on the desk in the coach.
“One word of advice, brother.”
“What’s that?” I ask, half paying attention, half distracted by the smell of Harlow’s perfume still lingering.
“Don’t let her get attached. You guys are fucking playing house here so it’s going to be super easy for her to think the minute you get back home all she needs to do is slide an apron on and she can be your misses.”
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“If it’s just the apron and heels and nothing else, then I’ll eat what she’s serving.” I chuckle, the visual more than stirring my dick to life. Fuck it seems the mere thought of her does these days.
You’d think we didn’t have sex last night the way I’m still horny for her.
“First the apron, and then later today you’ll have ropes. It sounds like my kind of party.”
“You’re not invited.”
“If Robert is so gung-ho about subscribers seeing what real life love is like and promoting a working relationship, make a home movie later tonight of you working her out”—he chuckles—“that might shut him up.”
I laugh and then groan.
“Just think,” Jack says, “Zane Phillips. Business mogul. Entrepreneur. Master matchmaker. And now . . . Reality TV star.”
“Don’t remind me.”
This is not how I want to spend my day.
I’ve dreaded it since the minute I picked up my phone mid-run to find Robert on the other end.
“Selling the fact that you and Harlow found each other on the site has been great, but I think we need to now sell that there’s more to it than the initial lust phase,” he’d spouted. “Think of giving people the feeling that love is worth it. People want to be sold the dream of love, so let’s show them what it takes. And I have the perfect marketing idea . . .”
He went on to explain that we’d shoot small web episodes. Five to ten minutes each. They’d be of me and Harlow working together or figuring out how to navigate different elements together. Some would be challenging and others probably more laid back. Just a small snapshot of life with the two of us.
“And if we get in a fight?” I’d asked.
“Then we show that too.”
“I’m not on board with this.”
“It’s really not a big deal. I’ll email you the details of what I’ve set up for you two this afternoon.
“You’re treading awfully close to stepping over the line, mate.”
