Page 8 of Fake it For Good
“That is not what I said.”
“Sure, you did,” he said with a laugh. “You just don’t know it.”
He left my office, and once again, it was just me. I was feeling a little broody. At some point, my life had evolved into me being this consummate bachelor. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was a little embarrassed to admit I was a hopeless romantic.
Was. That was the keyword.
Kelly had cured that condition. I had loved her with my whole heart. I was a couple of years into my company when we met. She was a beautiful, vibrant woman that made me promises. I worked hard for her. She had expensive tastes. I wanted her to have everything. I loved that I made enough to support her. She didn’t have to work. She did keep a nice house. I would give her that. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I was kicked out of my own house that I realized it was not for me. She had been building her nest. I traveled for work and she was entertaining.
Kelly had left a bitter taste in my mouth. In my life. Every woman I saw had hallmarks of Kelly. Whether they were beautiful or said things that were meant to be compliments. I was jaded and bitter and that made me a lonely man. But I preferred to be lonely than fucked over by anyone. At least lonely was safe.
I went home to my mansion every night and knew no one was going to take away a second home. My home was my castle. I didn’t grow up with money. I was just like every other normal kid that dreamed of having a nice car and a big house. Kelly knew how much I loved the house we once shared. I had redone the floors on the ground floor on my own. I watched YouTube videos and learned how to polish the wood. We could have hired someone, but I wanted to do it. It was a labor of love, and she took it. She took it and sold it a year later.
“Bitch,” I hissed the word. It had killed me when I saw the house go on the market. It just happened to be the same time I was looking for a house. I considered buying it, but there were too many bad memories in the place.
I returned to my desk and tried to focus on my work. Things were good, but they could be better. I had reached my company goal a year ago, but I wasn’t stopping. We could do more. We could widen the gap between us and them just a little more.
I just needed to find that little niche and capitalize on it.
4
NOELLE
Ifinished the last of the dishes and left them on the drying rack. One day, I was going to have a dishwasher. I was going to have more than five-hundred square feet to live in. One day.
I didn’t know when that day would come or how I was going to make it happen, but I needed to hold on to the dream. My studio in Queens was better than some and not quite as nice as others, but it was mine. I didn’t have to worry about a roommate getting on my nerves. I could walk around naked if I wanted to. Granted, a full walk around my tiny apartment would take less than ten seconds but still.
With the kitchen tidy, I could focus on my job search. I needed to pick up a couple of side jobs to get the money I so desperately needed. It was money to improve my living conditions and to give some very deserving kids a little piece of joy this holiday season. I personally knew how hard it could be to go back to school in January and listen to everyone talk about all the stuff they got and the family they got to see. I never wanted another child to live with that.
Marie called just before the point my eyes completely crossed from staring at the screen. “What’s up?” I answered.
“I have an idea,” she said. “Not an idea, an opportunity.”
“What kind of opportunity?”
“For a job,” she said. “A very lucrative job.”
“What is it?” I asked and closed the laptop. “I’m all ears.”
“Before you say you are all ears, you have to promise to have an open mind,” she said, which made me nervous.
“You know I was joking about selling my body, right?” I asked.
She laughed. “How much were you joking?”
“Wait, are you serious?”
“Yes, but it’s not what you think,” she said and rushed into her spiel. “It’s a dating agency. It’s all on the up and up. Totally legal and the money is amazing.”
“What the hell is a dating agency?” I asked with a groan. She had gotten my hopes up. I thought she was going to give me an actual job opportunity.
“Dating. You go out on dates and get paid for it.”
“I was only kidding about selling myself,” I told her. “I think,” I muttered once I considered my options, which were none.
“Hear me out,” she said. “I think this could be the answer you’ve been looking for. I’ve scheduled an appointment for you.”
“You did not.”
