My Fake Fling

“Are you calling me the devil?” I joked.

“If the shoe fits.”

“If my dad doesn’t return, I have to do that grand opening on my own,” I said. “I can’t deal with another round of stupid questions. Today was bad with the handful of press I had to deal with. It’s going to be way worse with a large crowd. I have to control the narrative. I don’t want to deal with questions about my personal life.”

“Just ignore it,” he said.

“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “I’m supposed to be selling luxury apartments. No one wants to move into a building with a landlord dragging drama into their lives. The people that will be buying these units expect privacy. If the press is hanging around in the hopes of getting a photograph of me, it’s going to be a major deterrent.”

“I offered you a solution,” he said.

“You’re not actually serious, are you?”

“I’m not not being serious,” he replied.

That was interesting. “Do you think she would do it?”

“I had lunch with her today,” he said. “She’s in dire straits with the shelter. It’s that time of year. I’m sure you remember how this cycle works.”

“I do.”

“I’m not sure I would advise asking her outright,” he said. “I think if you propose it as a way for her to promote her shelter or possibly raise some money for the nonprofit, she would do it. Even if it means spending time with you.”

I smirked with the idea taking root. “You make it sound like I’m a troll.”

“I never called you a troll,” he said with a laugh.

We ordered our tacos and another margarita. Both of us were a little distracted with our minds on our fathers. It sucked we were both going through it at the same time. We had grown up together and both knew each other’s fathers well. I liked Clay. He was a good guy. He worked hard, and when he lost the love of his life, it had rocked all of us.

After our meal, we parted ways. On the walk back to my car, I made another call to my dad’s phone. It went straight to voicemail.

“Where are you, Dad?”