Page 18 of Fake It For Love (Faux Love)
7
CLAIRE
Islid on a slick of lip gloss. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.
My mom had always been very explicit about being a lady. She had been raised with money. Her mother had instilled social manners in her and she passed them down to me. Never raise your voice. Always smile. Keep your legs crossed and your back straight.
Her guidelines for makeup were very strict as well. She made it clear when she disapproved of my makeup. I was a grown woman and still followed her orders.
The dress I wore was pretty simple. It made me feel pretty. It was a dark green with little white flowers all over. The wide white belt gave me an hourglass shape. It was summery and perfect for a date on a beach. My directions were to get a table at the beachside restaurant. I wasn’t sure how he was going to know who I was but we would figure it out.
“Hello,” I said, smiling at the young woman manning the entrance. The entrance was nothing more than an arch with vines climbing over it. The dining room was a sandy beach with small white tables. Candles burned and flickered on each of the tables.
“I’m here to, well, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here,” I said.
“Name?”
“I don’t know the name,” I said with a grimace.
She offered another smile. “I’ll show you to a table. When your date arrives, I’ll bring him to the table.”
“Thank you.”
I was shown to a table along the border of the dining area closest to the beach. I was glad I wore sandals. It could have been very uncomfortable with heels. I ordered a mojito and waited.
The drink was quickly delivered. I sipped it and casually looked at the other diners. I didn’t see any single men hanging out. It was all couples.
I wondered if I was being stood up. Maybe the dude had gotten cold feet. It would be my luck to get stood up. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time.
This was why I hated dating. It was such a crap shoot to know who was decent and who was a total piece of shit. You could never just look at someone and know.
Then again, could I really consider it being stood up? This was more like a job interview. The guy was deciding whether or not he wanted to hire me. I couldn’t take anything personally. If he wanted to hire someone else, that was his prerogative. But I was damn well going to try and land the job. I wanted the damn money. I needed the money.
“This way sir,” I heard a woman say.
I looked up and my eyes widened. “Ryan?”
He looked just as surprised as I did. “I’m sorry, this isn’t the right table,” he said.
“He’s right,” I said. “I’m waiting for someone else.”
“You’re waiting for someone?” he asked.
I wasn’t about to tell him I was waiting for my John. “I am.”
He looked around the dining area. “There’s no other single women here?” he asked the hostess.
“No, but maybe she’ll show up later,” the woman offered.
“I’m already fifteen minutes late,” Ryan said.
I inwardly groaned and dropped my head. “And my date is fifteen minutes late,” I muttered.
I heard him curse under his breath. “Can I get a scotch?” he asked. “Make it a double, please.”
He sat down across from me. This was probably the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. The second most. The first also involved Ryan.
I was beginning to sense a pattern. “I’m going to say a name,” I said. “If you know it, then we’ll both know we’re sitting at the right table. If you don’t know it, I will very casually get up and walk away. Deal?”
