Fake Marriage Box Set

The admission cleared my head long enough for me to grab Ginny's hand. "I'm sorry. Thank you for coming to pick me up."

"Let's get you home," she said. "We've got to see if we can fend off the hangover you have coming your way."

Whatever magic Ginny tried to work failed because I woke up with a throbbing headache. No, it didn't just stay in my head, but radiated up and down my back with each breath. I had never felt so sick in my life. I curled in a ball, stretched out, rolled over, and then sat up, but there was no escaping it.

I was so hungover that everything hurt. Especially the fact that I remembered everything. Even my dreams.

I had dreamt Penn and I were on a trail and he was walking too fast ahead of me. I tried to catch up, tried to climb as high as he did, but I kept stumbling, getting bruised and cut along the way.

I started to sniffle over the symbolism, but I smelled coffee. Ginny had placed a Thermos of coffee and two aspirin next to my bed with a note. "You'd do the same for me," was all it said.

I snuffled over the kindness of that and choked down the aspirin. After a few minutes of slow sipping, the caffeine hit my bloodstream, and I started to believe I would live. I slipped my feet out of my tangle of bed sheets and placed them square on the floor.

I couldn't just lay in bed and ache all day. It was time to move on. Penn had moved on, as those photographs clearly showed, and it was time that I figured out how to do the same.

I heaved myself upright and slowly shuffled to the shower. With clean clothes on and my wet hair tied back in a messy bun, I was ready to figure out my life. So, I sat down in front of my laptop and started a job search.

It didn't matter that my heart clutched at every boring and methodical job description I read; I couldn't morph into a successful singer overnight. And Ginny was right; I was not cut out for the nightlife.

What I really needed was some miracle crossover, like a hotel with a nightclub attached. Or maybe I should just join a cruise line show. That would solve the problem of rent and ensure that I would never run into Penn Templeton again.

I reread the cruise line posting again and pulled up my resume. With the addition of my limited singing engagements, I could be a good fit for the job.

I started humming as my fingers flew over the keyboard. The tune was one of my favorites, one of the first songs I sang with Penn's father accompanying me on piano. I remembered seeing myself in the reflection of those stunning windows and thinking that that is how I wished everyone could see me. Free, smiling, and singing like it was the only thing in the world.

My hands slipped off the keyboard. At least one good thing had come out of my random foray into the seedy jazz clubs of San Francisco: I had a few real suggestions from a real musician.

Suddenly, it was all I could think about. I clung to it as the first clear thought that had not been pierced by sappy memories of Penn Templeton. I found the scribbled list that Ginny had given me and started to research the places online.

The last painful ebbs of my hangover disappeared, and the weight that had settled on me as I considered the cruise line job suddenly lifted. I opened my mouth and sang along with the radio as my fingers typed along in happy rhythm.

Ginny found me a few hours later, and her face was shocked when she pushed open the door. "I thought you might be curled up under the blankets watching old movies," she said. "That's what I'd be doing."

"Thank you for the coffee and aspirin–and for making sure I got home before I made a complete fool out of myself," I said. I slipped the gold earrings in place and twirled in front of the mirror. "How do I look?'

Ginny took in the wild, abstract on black print of the sheath dress and shook her head. "I like it. I like it a lot; I just can't believe you're in it."

"Why?" I asked. "Too flashy?"

"No. No," she said. "You look wonderful. It's just I saw that dress at the big store just off the highway. I thought you never bought clothes there."

"I'm on a budget, but I still wanted to make a good impression. This works, right?"

She started to smile. "It definitely works. You make that dress look like a million dollars."

"Thanks," I said.

"So…" She blocked the door as I tried to breeze past. "Where are you going?"

I laughed at the worried crease in her forehead. "Not back to where we were last night. This place has a great reputation."

Ginny peered over my shoulder to where I pointed to my computer. "I've heard of that club. There's a five-star restaurant attached to it. Do you have a date?"

I snorted. "No. No thank you. I've got something better-an audition. Turns out the list that guy gave us last night led me to a forum where different bands can post for new members.

“There's a little combo that needs a singer. When I called, it all went well. I sang over the phone! And then they told me to meet them there tonight. I'm going to sing with them and see how it goes."

"You've got an audition?" Ginny pressed two excited hands to her mouth to stop from squealing.