Bad Reputation a Fake Fiance Romance

He was supposed to be fawning over me! That was what I was paying him for!

I glared at him. His light-blonde hair, which reflected the lighting from the dance floor, was softly tussled. Part of me wanted to run my fingers through it and down the sharp line of his square jaw.

The escort had broad shoulders. His dark suit was so well tailored that you could tell that he was muscular and cut. I knew it was all pretend, but as I stared daggers in his direction, I was also slowly mentally undressing him.

Fortunately, Vicky didn’t seem to notice my distracted and foul mood. My best friend was swaying to the music and drinking down her fourth margarita. At least, she seemed to be having a good time.

“This Appletini is terrible; can I have another, please?” I said a little aggressively to the waiter who passed by our table.

“Sorry ma’am,” he said, scooping up my glass and heading towards the bar.

“What’s with you?” asked Vicky, as she nodded her head to the beat of the music. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I said, trying to think of the right turn of phrase. “Leo is standing over there with your husband, ignoring me. I went to a lot of trouble to get him here.”

“What do you mean?”

She raised an eyebrow and bit down on the little straw in her margarita glass, which was now almost empty.

Oh fuck!

I couldn’t let her know what was really going on, so I pretended I didn’t hear her.

“Say what now?”

“You said you went to a lot of trouble. What trouble?”

“You know,” I said, trying to think of something that sounded sensible. “I had to book the flights and arrange the hotel room for him. You know men. They’re so unorganized!”

“Oh, yeah,” agreed Vicky, nodding her head so hard her updo started to come out of its bobby pins. “Sure.”

Still dancing in her seat, she turned and glanced around the room.

“But still, it’s nice to see everyone, right? I mean, you’re enjoying that, right?”

“I guess,” I said, still stressed.

I rubbed a hand over my forehead, trying to keep a headache from coming on. This whole plan was so ridiculous. I shouldn’t have even tried it. None of my former classmates were going to believe that Leo was with a girl like me.

He was hot. I was not.

I should have just accepted that I was going to be the joke of the reunion, and the fifteen hundred bucks I paid to be escorted was the price of my stupidity. I would have gotten the same result if I had just thrown that money in the trash.

A flash of golden-blonde hair caught my eye and my stomach dropped.

Grabbing Vicky by the shoulder, I pulled her to look towards the walking nightmare that I was watching.

“Here comes Sabrina and her entourage.”

Sabrina West, my evil nemesis back in high school, had started to strut our way with her huge, red lips pulled into a smirk. Sabrina was the classic cheerleader type: blonde, blue eyes, statuesque.

She was flanked by Kyla and Mora, her lackies, a redhead and brunette respectively. They were like an evil version of Charlie’s Angels.

Back in high school, they were the mean girls that destroyed reputations and broke hearts. They had teased me every day for four years. Judging by the look on Sabrina’s face as she approached, I didn’t think anything had changed.

As soon as she opened her big mouth, she confirmed that fact.

“Oh, hey, Carina,” sneered Sabrina, in her high-pitched voice. “Didn’t expect to see you here. I figured you’d have to stay home with your two dozen cats by now.”

“I don’t own a cat, Sabrina,” I replied calmly, trying to not take the bait.

“Oh, no,” she replied, feigning concern and shifting her long hair from one shoulder to the other. “No man or cat. Your nights must be so lonely.”

She faked a frown.

“Actually, my fiancé is over there,” I said, pointing at Leo.

Sabrina’s eyes went wide when she looked over towards the bar. It wasn’t surprising, Leo really could have been a model. While she stammered and tried to find her lost breath, her minions stepped towards me.

“Looks like he’s more interested in Vicky’s man than you,” noted Kyla, with a quick nod of her chin. “Is your husband a switch hitter, Vicky?”

The three mean girls erupted into a mess of grins and giggles.

“Kyla,” said Vicky, standing up and wobbling slightly in her tall heels. “I’m not sure who you think I was back in high school, but I can tell you who I am now.”

“Who’s that?” asked Kyla, fake concern on her face.

“I’m not your bitch,” said Vicky, vaguely threateningly. She pointed her empty glass towards each of them. “But I’ll take you outside and make you mine. So shut your talk hole before I shut it for you.”