Fake Marriage Box Set

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” I said and told her the truth. “He promised his dying mom that he would get married before she dies, and I offered to fake marry him in exchange for money.” I summed it up at the end, and Nancie sat down her make-up brush and turned toward me. For a moment, I expected her to chide me until I remembered who I was speaking with.

“That’s evil,” she said. “Super devious, something you’d hear on one of those reality housewives shows. I love it.”

“Really?” I asked. “You don’t think I made a mistake?”

“A mistake?” Nancie frowned. “Maddie, you need money, he needs a fake a wife. He just so happens to be the richest asshole in town, and you happen to be beautiful. I think it’s the perfect deal.”

“It might not matter anyways,” I said. “He got super pissed after the offer and ran away.”

“He just needs time to process it,” she said. “Unless he wants to break a promise to his dying mommy.”

The entire thing was so inappropriate that I just had to chuckle. “I’m such a shit person,” I said and fell back on her bed. “Karma is going to get me.”

“Karma works third shift at the stripper joint downtown,” Nancie said. “Trust me, ain't no one worrying about karma.”

I watched as Nancie finished her make-up and dressed in stylish clothes and accentuated her calves. She looked perfect, and I told her as much as she left for her job.

At least Nancie recognized the potential in my offer, but it didn’t make me feel any better. Gavin’s mother was dying, and I had monetized it. But there was so much more than just that tiny little detail, right? I could only hope that Gavin could see the potential, and maybe he really would be in touch.

I closed my eyes and drifted into a light sleep. I had dreamt of our exchange at dinner the entire night, reliving the humiliation of being left alone at a table for two. But in my nap, I only dreamt of Gavin, of his blue eyes, the gray highlights in his dark hair, his muscles and hard body. In my dream, I wondered how taut his body was, and tried touching him. But he pulled away with a nasty smirk and told me to go fuck myself.

I woke up just in time for an early lunch and wondered if that really was how Gavin felt.

I had nearly forgotten about my plans for dinner until my mom called me in the late afternoon, reminding me that I had agreed to come over. I promised her I would arrive early and spent the rest of the afternoon active on my social media accounts.

It was a never-ending cycle, the constant liking and reposting and commenting and liking. But the more you did it, the bigger the presence you had. And that was how Nancie had gotten her million followers.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I looked up Gavin Hayward on the search bar. His profile popped up almost instantly, and I clicked on it. His profile picture was an older one, nearly 10 years old, it seemed, and he looked slightly chubbier with a full head of hair and a shirt that was pulled down to show off a tattoo on his left shoulder. I had completely forgotten that Gavin had tattoos covering nearly his entire body, with the only exceptions of hands, neck, and face. His shoulder tattoo was a lizard that looked as if it were perched, like a little friend always beside his ear.

He only had two other pictures on his profile. One with Ron, which most likely was because Ron had created the profile, and the other a 20-year-old Gavin in between his mother and father. It was remarkable how similar he looked to his father now. Same hard jawline, bright blue eyes between thick, dark eyelashes, and a straight nose with a slight bump on the bridge. His hair was from his mother, and smile as well.

I locked my phone and threw it on my bed. Why was I creeping on his profile anyways? He wasn’t interested in me, or my idea, and he probably wouldn’t want to ever see me again.

I glanced at my clock. I had 30 minutes before I said I would arrive at my parents, and the drive itself was 25 minutes.

I got ready in a rush and was out the door in record time. The drive thankfully had no traffic, and I was knocking on the door just as it turned six.

“I didn’t actually think you’d get here early,” mom said. “Dinner should be ready in 30 minutes.”

“I got all my work done for the day,” I said. Mom rolled her eyes, but she didn’t ask if I was looking for a real job, at least.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dad said as he hugged me. “How’s your weekend so far?”

“Uneventful,” I said and took a seat on the couch. It was rough, with cushioned backs that were sunk low. No wonder dad always complained about back problems. “Don’t forget, if you guys want a new couch, I can get a good discount at that giant furniture warehouse downtown.”

I had starred in a commercial for them a few years ago and had received a lifetime of half-off discounts in compensation.

“This one’s still good,” dad said and joined me on the couch. “I think we’ll keep it until the legs break.”

I shifted my weight as the couch rocked beneath us.

“Doesn’t sound like it’ll be that long,” I said. “Just promise me you’ll let me know?”

“Promise,” dad said as he changed the TV channel. I couldn’t believe they were still wasting their money on cable.

We watched an episode of House Hunters as mom finished up dinner. I knew one day she was going to ask me to help, but the last thing I needed was her constant judgment as we circled the tiny kitchen together.

“Food’s ready,” she said. I helped her set the table and prep the plates. It was taco night, and we each took turns piling meat, cheese, onions, sour cream, and avocado in corn shells.