Mister Fake Fiance

He won’t bite. He’s just being polite because it’s a hand-holding type of event, I tell myself.

I take it and watch his fingers close around my hand in a firm, warm grip.

“So. What’s going on?” I ask. “Where’s Charlotte?”

“She couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Oh. Too busy?”

“Yeah, trying to keep abreast of some other stuff.” He leads me into the hotel. “Anyway, forget about all that. I need you to play the love of my life tonight.”

Chapter Six

Erin

Shock slaps me, and I take a second to regroup. The love of his life? What? And most of all, Why me?

I wonder if it’s prudent to tell David that the only acting experience I have is from fifth grade. I was supposed to play an eggplant that loved to dance. But even though my mom held my hands before the play and whispered soothing words, instead of doing the steps I had practiced to the jaunty little piano tune, I threw up on stage because I was so nervous. After it was over, my dad glared at me, his face red, and declared me “the embarrassment of the year.”

Is David going to be angry and disgusted if I fail?

Now I wish I had taken some acting classes. This is L.A.! And Bev, another assistant at Sweet Darlings, told me that the company has deals with a lot of schools, so we might be able to get discounts. I should’ve taken that as a sign.

David leads me into the hotel ballroom, glittering marble under our feet and brilliant chandeliers over our heads. The music is low and soothing, something classical and upper-crust. Guests chat and smile at each other, holding slim champagne glasses.

I stare at the passing trays longingly. In the movies, guests take their drinks with such natural ease and elegance that it’s like they had waiters coming by with flutes of formula when they were babies. But not me. Every time I try, the waitstaff seem to move too fast or be just out of reach. And if I run after one, I’m going to look like a broke, desperate alcoholic trying to score free booze.

I’m sure the love of David’s life wouldn’t do that.

David effortlessly plucks a couple of flutes off a tray. It’s got to be some kind of sorcery, because his movements are unhurried… Lazy, even.

I accept one of them with a smile. “Thank you.”

David smiles back, although he’s still giving me a funny look. It’s not an expression I’ve seen on his face before. There’s nothing boss-like about it. If I had to describe it, I’d say he’s what a scientist might be like when he’s studying a newly discovered species of plankton. He’s certainly not looking at me the way a pretend boyfriend would the pretend love of his life.

It’s making me extra anxious. And a little too warm. My skin’s prickling.

To cover up my nerves, I take a sip of the wine. The bubbles fizzle in my nostrils and throat, making me wrinkle my nose although the champagne has a nice, cool finish to it.

That seems to draw even more of David’s odd attention. Now he’s looking at my lips.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “Do I have something on my face?”

He shakes his head. “No. You look fine.”

“But you’re looking at me like something’s not right.”

Clearing his throat, he scratches the tip of his nose. “Sorry. It’s just that you look so…different.”

The understatement of the century. I shift a little, feeling like a kid caught in her mom’s dress. “Yeah. This isn’t what I normally wear.”

Suppressing a sigh, I look down at the attention-grabbing red dress wrapped around me, then prep an explanation in my head. I need to make it clear that I’m not usually impulsive, emotional or dramatic. I’m as normal as you can get. And a great, instruction-abiding assistant.

“I thought Sophia would bring a blac

k dress because that’s the color you mentioned,” I begin. “But she actually brought red and blue. And I wanted the blue, but it didn’t fit right. I’m sorry.” If I weren’t holding a glass, I’d be wringing my hands by now. So I take a healthy swallow instead. “I’ll make sure to get myself a black dress after this.”

David looks surprised, but shakes his head. “The red looks really good on you. You should get a red one.”