Page 30 of Off the Mark
“Okay then,” he said firmly. “That’s what I need from this…thisarrangement. Connections to money so my favorite place in the world doesn’t go under. It’s the only way I can justify helping you right now, given how chaotic it is at work.”
I finished my beer and hoped my cheeks weren’t red. My stomach had lurched sideways at the way Rowan had said he needed to justify helping me. And I had no ideawhy. He was my friend. It didn’t make him less of one for needing an excuse to participate in my bizarre proposition.
At least he wasn’t still hung up on thinking heowed mefor an act of kindness I never expected to be repaid.
“It’s smart of you,” I added. “Smart to leverage this fake dating thing to your benefit if you can. We should be thinking of it as a business transaction. Nothing personal. Just a way for us to both get paid.”
Understanding dawned on his face. He leaned forward slightly. “What I said aboutjustifyingthis wasn’t the right choice of words. I didn’t mean it to sound so impersonal. Like you’re a burden to me. Because you’re not, Charlie. You’ve never been.”
My face was undeniably beet-red now. “Oh, I know, it’s okay. Friendship aside, thisshouldbe transactional. It’s best to be candid up front so no one gets hurt. Right?”
He stared at me for a beat too long. I fought to maintain eye contact.
“Right,” he finally said. “And how long is this business transaction?”
“The championship race is at the end of August. So three weeks from now.”
His smile was wan. “And I’ve got three weeks to save these programs. Do you remember my buddy Dean? The boxer?”
I nodded, vague memories of briefly meeting him once or twice at Jolene’s—though Rowan often spoke warmly about this man who was more brother than friend. A quiet, serious fighter who’d seen Rowan at some of his lowest points, according to him.
“I sort of convinced him to turn down a super high-paying announcer gig to take an underpaid, overworked nonprofit job at the center with me instead. Running the senior food program.”
“You mean the one you’ll have to cut?”
He rubbed his jaw. Nodded. “I can’t fire him two years later. The guy just got married, for fuck’s sake.”
The brief flash of vulnerability on his face had my stomach twisting again, this time in sympathy. But then he reschooled his features, all charm and easy humor. “But I wasn’t gifted with these movie-star looks for them to go to waste. Unleash me on a room of unsuspecting rich people and I’ll walk out with a check. I guarantee it.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Rowan. Firing your best friend would be horrible. I’m sorry this is happening to you.”
His attention darted up to the TV behind me. “It ain’t gonna happen. Not on my watch. Not if we pull this off, yeah?”
Growing up in Sweetwater, the common understanding was that cities were cold, unfeeling places where a person wouldn’t stop and help you if you were lying half dead in the street. But to hear Rowan tell it, his neighborhood was the reason he and his grandmother survived. Why they’d held on through the worst.
To hear Rowan tell it, South Philly was the reason he’d made it to the majors at all.
“It seems like we have to be, given what’s at stake. So no pressure or anything.” I arched an eyebrow. “All we have to do is make our fake relationship appear realistic enough to save my contract, help my dad not get evicted, get the rec center a bunch of money, and protect Dean’s job.”
Rowan grinned but it seemed forced. He clinked his glass against mine. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I drummed my fingers on the bar. “And we can’t tell a soul about this. About us. It has to be our secret.”
He leaned back on the stool, shaking his head. “Yeah, I can’t do that to Dean. And by extension, Tabitha. I’ll have to tell him.”
I frowned. “Have you told him his job’s on the line at the center?”
“Nope. It’s not the same though.”
“Care to enlighten me on the difference?”
“The cuts the board wants me to make aren’t gonna happen. Telling him will only worry him for no reason. This”—he waved a hand between us— “is something he’ll sniff out immediately.”
I pursed my lips. “That doesn’t give me a ton of confidence in our ability to pull this off if you’re saying Dean will figure us out minute one.”
“He’s known me since I was four. He’s not some rando reporter or a fan on Instagram. And we had Dempsey fooled today with zero prep ahead of time. Dean knows my romantic history too well to believe we’re dating.”
“And what’s your romantic history?” I asked.
