Page 43 of Fake it For Good
“There’s nothing you shouldn’t say,” I said. “Just do like you did with John. Be yourself. Be casual. No one is going to ask about us. They might say something in passing, but don’t feel like you need to have a whole back story.”
“Okay,” she said. “I can do that. And tonight is a cocktail dress?”
“Yes,” I said.
I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to talk about last night. I was so out of the game. We made small talk before I excused myself to take care of some work things. I didn’t want her to think she had to spend all day with me. Our contract was a few dates, not an around-the-clock thing.
The party was fairly early. I dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie. It was basic. Simple. Classic. And so very me.
When I knocked on her door, I was prepared for something hot. I wasn’t disappointed. “Hi,” she said sheepishly.
The dress tonight was meant to impress. I was certainly fucking impressed.
It was a stunning red color. The one-shoulder dress was simple and elegant. There was a pretty diamond belt that broke up all the red.
“Too much?” she asked and smoothed down the layers of red chiffon.
“No. I mean, it’s perfect. You look amazing.”
“The lady at the boutique said red was right for a pre-Christmas party,” she said. “I feel a little bright.”
“I like it,” I said. “I really, really like it.”
“And we do kind of match,” she said.
“Are you ready?”
“Let’s do this,” she said.
I had to check. She was wearing the ring. I really liked that ring on her finger. I couldn’t explain it, but it made me feel like I had claimed her. If I were to ever claim her, I would give her a bigger diamond. But that didn’t matter. This was fake.
There was a limo waiting for us when we walked out of the hotel. The party was being held at the grandson’s mansion. After arriving, we walked into the main room of the house. A table had been set up with an assortment of dolls. They were cringey. Icky. But then again, I had a thing about dolls. I just didn’t like them. Some people didn’t like clowns, and I didn’t like dolls.
“Gross,” Noelle whispered in my ear. “I thought this was the competition.”
“Not exactly the competition,” I corrected. “He’s trying something new.”
“He shouldn’t,” she said dryly. “I’m going to have nightmares.”
“Be nice,” I teased.
“I’ve noticed you are keeping me between you and those dolls,” she said.
I had to laugh at that. “I suppose I am. Dolls are my kryptonite. Not all dolls, but most. Something just isn’t right about fake humans.”
“You sell dolls,” she said.
“I do, but my dolls are cute. They’re pretty. They are not creepy.”
“You feel pretty strongly about those dolls, don’t you?” she said, laughing.
“I sound like a pussy, don’t I?”
“Not at all,” she said. “Maybe a little.”
“Cane!” I looked in the direction of my name. I recognized the man, but I couldn’t quite remember his name. I met a lot of people.
“Showtime,” I said.
