by Susan Rohrer
“I got it.”
“Okay,” Charlie replied. “So...I’ll consider yours...disposed of in a completely eco-friendly manner.”
“Yup. Bye.” And with that, M.J. headed away.
Charlie looked back at Kate’s apartment door. He glanced back at the brochures he’d hung on the other doors. “Bye! I’ll just grab these last few...” Charlie trailed behind M.J. as she left, taking brochures off of all the remaining doors where he’d just hung them, knowing that the only one he cared to hear from was Kate. “There. Got it. So, that’s done.”
Hyperventilating, Charlie waved at M.J. as she rounded the back corner to the parking garage, his mission accomplished.
♥ ♥ ♥
Back at the Doo-Wop Dinette, Kate dressed salads as Reesa poured iced teas nearby. As it turned out, Kate had decided to cover for Dustin. It gave her the chance to vent about what had just happened to Reesa’s understanding ears.
“I can’t believe he just told you that I brought it up that we should see other people,” Kate sighed.
“I’d say he believed it, too,” Reesa nodded. “All due respect, but the boy is not that good an actor.”
Kate wiped a spill off the counter. “Well, I said the words, more like a facetious question to him, which he wasn’t supposed to answer ‘yes’ to, much less flip it around on me.”
Reesa chuckled. She grinned like she always did when she was about to confide about some juicy tidbit from her wealth of marital experience. “You know what I did, way back when that slippery Andre over there was trying to shuffle the deck?” Reesa nodded discreetly toward her husband of fifteen years, the cook behind the counter.
Intrigued, Kate stepped closer. “What? Tell me.”
Reesa lowered her voice. “I got me this fine looking cousin, uhm-hmm. I got him to parade ‘round on my arm, like we was some kind of wailin’ hot thing. Not two shakes before Andre come runnin’ to ask for my hand.”
♥ ♥ ♥
A sea of actors filled the lobby outside half a dozen audition studios within a large casting co-op. Men in suits prepped lines around one door, cheerleaders practiced moves around another, grannies flanked the third, little people the fourth, and bikers the fifth.
Still shirtless, Dustin passed by them all, enjoying the attention his washboard abs drew. Nearing the sixth casting studio, Dustin checked the board for the product listing. It was right there, just as Wissy had said it would be, but oddly enough, all of the guys waiting nearby were wearing shirts.
Dustin didn’t let it bother him. He knew he’d followed Wissy’s instructions. Besides, he never minded when he attracted attention. He told himself how impressed Wissy would be when she saw how committed he was to booking this gig.
Wissy popped out of Studio Six with a camera. “Eric Bender,” she called.
Immediately, Eric rose from his seat.
“Against the door,” she directed.
Dustin watched as Eric stepped into place and, with his face at a jaunty tilt, winningly smiled for the camera.
Dustin wished that this Eric guy hadn’t been so good looking. In fact, as Dustin glanced around at the men who were waiting, his confidence began to wane. The thing was, Dustin was used to being the best looking guy in the room. He thought of himself as a solid eight and a half. The problem was, in this particular room, he was surrounded by stone cold tens.
Wissy snapped the shot and handed Eric the photo that her camera spat out.
“Thanks,” Eric said. “How we doing for time?”
Wissy checked her watch. “Slammed. But I’ll squeeze you in.” With warm familiarity, she stroked his arm.
As Eric moved off, Dustin sidled up to Wissy. “Hey...”
Wissy took a gander at Dustin’s physique. “Wow. Somebody’s been working out. Okay, don’t hate me, but I totally forgot to text you. It’s nice casual now. You did bring a shirt, right?”
Dustin did his best to cover the fact that he did not. “Oh. A shirt. Right.”
Wissy turned to address the group of waiting auditionees. “Okay, listen up, now. Jean-Luc, Brent, Adam, Carlos...you’re up.” Shirted hunks rose compliantly.
Dustin searched around in desperation. He stopped a guy in an open oxford over a v-necked tee. “Dude, can I bum one of your shirts?”
“Sorry,” the guy replied. “I always book with this layered look. It’s my trademark.”
Dustin whirled to a man passing by in a suit. “Hey, you got an undershirt you could loan me?”
“What, are you nuts?” the man asked.
Dustin’s eyes fell back on Eric as he sat on a bench waiting. “I’ll give you ten bucks for your shirt, man.”
Eric looked up, bemused. “Gee. Hundred dollar custom made in Italy. Tempting, but no.”
Just then, Wissy called out over the crowd. “Okay, Eric, Miguel, Ted, and Dustin. You’re on deck.”
Hearing Wissy call his name, Dustin searched around more frantically than ever. He found himself surrounded with white-haired grannies in pastel sweaters. Beyond them were the bikers, the little people, and the cheerleaders. What in the world could he do?
Minutes later, Dustin entered the casting studio for his very first big audition. As it turned out, he found that there was no semi-monstrous sized casting director who was slumming in commercials present, at least not in the audition studio. There was only a video camera to record the audition, which he learned would be uploaded and posted online for the clients to view later. They wouldn’t know that Wissy forgot to text Dustin about needing a shirt. He wouldn’t have a chance to explain. What they saw on the tape would have to be enough to set him apart from the rest.
Wissy dutifully lined the men up, training her lens on Eric first. “Tell us your name, into the lens, then show me your hands as I go down the row. And you are...”
“Eric Bender.” Eric put both hands up below his face, and then flipped them around for the video camera. Wissy panned left.
“Hi, I’m Miguel Ruez.” Dustin watched as Miguel did the same thing with his hands.
Again, Wissy panned. “Next we have...”
“Ted Delaney.”
“And last but not least...” Wissy panned to Dustin where he stood at the end of the line, wearing a floral, crocheted granny vest over his otherwise bare chest. Dustin shrugged sheepishly as the camera reached him. He flashed his hands and a toothy grin, making the absolute most of it. “Hey. I’m Dustin. Dustin Hunt.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Charlie snugged his tie up to the collar of his dress shirt. He didn’t own much in the way of business attire. Tee shirts were more his normal speed, but this day was different. It was his first day as a Virtually Mine Operator and he wanted to be seen in an entirely new way.
Nearing Samantha’s door, he paused to gather his thoughts. He willed himself to put his shoulders back like his dad always advised. Resolutely, he rapped on her doorjamb.
Samantha rose, a puzzled expression forming. “What’s with the tie? I didn’t know you owned one.”
“I didn’t, actually,” Charlie stammered, “but I thought since I’ll be, kind of, working directly with our clients, now—”
Samantha perched on her desk. “Think about it, Charlie. It’s not like we can let the girls actually see you.”
Charlie did think about it. He thought about it hard. Suddenly, he slumped, feeling as ridiculous as he realized that he looked.
Still, Samantha gestured him toward the hall. “Let’s go get you started.”
As a computer tech, Charlie had heard about Virtually Mine’s storehouse of gift items, but he’d never actually been behind the golden door before. Samantha swiped a card key and motioned Charlie through security.
Inside, an enormous room was filled with huge shelving units, laden with gifts that the company’s Operators distributed on behalf of their client’s Imaginary Boyfriends. There were silk bouquets, stuffed animals, jeweled trinkets, and more heart-shaped boxes of candy than Charlie knew existed.
Samantha breezed through the well-organized aisles with Charlie. “All right, listen up. I’ll say this once. Cards are labeled by alphabetized occasion, ‘B’ for birthday before ‘B’ for blanks. Suggested messages for the blank cards are in the software, which, given your manifest lack of savvy in this arena, you should rely upon heavily.”
Charlie surveyed the offerings, his breath short. “Right.”
Samantha continued, never missing a beat. “Cross reference gift ranks with the corresponding level of payment and log each gift onto the account as you pull it. Do not, under any circumstances, boost levels. Got it?”
Charlie nodded. He totally got it, at least on an intellectual level. Resolving technical difficulties was one thing, but interacting with actual women as an Imaginary Boyfriend, that would be quite another. Though he did his best to hide his unmitigated fear of rising to this ersatz romantic occasion, his heart beat triple-time at the prospect.
♥ ♥ ♥
M.J. knew that there were defining moments in life, and for her, this gulpy moment felt like one of them. It was now or never, she coached herself. She refused to live in her never. It was high time that she lived in her now.
She would boldly go where no Meter Maid had gone before. She would follow the adorable rusty-haired guy and his golden retriever away from Palisades Park, and into the posh neighborhood it bordered. Maybe he didn’t live there, she supposed. Perhaps he’d only pass through on the way to the many apartment buildings just a few blocks south.
Suddenly, the golden retriever bounded up a flagstone walk toward a stately home. The rusty-haired guy followed, and then let himself in the front door.
M.J. swallowed. “Okay, not at all intimidated.” She pulled out her freshly-minted dog walker card. Even with its lightly perforated edges, it looked much more official than she felt. “So, here we go,” she said as she turned up the walk to the door.
M.J. lifted the polished brass knocker, then lowered it for two distinct raps. Quickly, she rehearsed as she waited. “Hi...I’m... You’re probably wondering why... Hello... Hey, I was—”
Mid-rehearsal, the door swung open. There was the rusty-haired guy, not three feet away, smiling at her, even cuter close-up than he had been at a distance.
“Hi,” M.J. managed.
“Hi. Do I know you?” said the rusty-haired guy.
“Not yet. I mean, now you do...or, a minute from now or...” M.J. thrust her business card toward him, a little more gingerly than she intended. “I’m M.J. Poster, Dog Barker Extraordinaire.”
“Dog barker?”
M.J. snorkled involuntarily. “Did I say barker? I meant walker, not barker, but still most definitely extraordinaire, at the dog walking. It’s my business.”
“Full time?”
“Working toward it. That’s my home number. I’m just building up the clientele, which is why I’m here because I’ve seen you around, in the park, strictly in a dog scouting context and—”
The rusty-haired guy gestured back into the house. “You saw Freddie?”
“Freddie?” M.J. inquired. “Oh. Freddie’s the golden, right? Freddie’s my kid brother’s name and we won’t even go there, but...what did you say your name was?” Just then, M.J. heard the phone start to ring inside.
“I’m Rob. Rob Galloway. And I’d better get that. Might be one of my patients.”
M.J.’s eyes bugged a little. “You’re a doctor?”
Rusty-haired Rob nodded. “A therapist. Thanks for dropping by, B.J.”
“M.J.,” she corrected, as cheerily as possible.
With that, Rob took M.J.’s card, went inside, and closed the big door to the beautiful home.
M.J. whirled, elated. She put a hand to her forehead, and then saluted her victory as she strode away. “M.J. Poster, Dog Barker Extraordinaire!”
♥ ♥ ♥
Kate shuffled into her apartment. Normally, Kate wasn’t a shuffler. She had more of a bounce to her step, but shuffle Kate did on this day. In fact, she shuffled right into the Virtually Mine brochure that M.J. had tossed in, onto the floor.
Numbly, Kate picked the ad up and checked her answering machine. The L.E.D. readout was a big fat zero. No one had called her. Not Dustin, not her mom or dad, not even one of those pesky refinance-your-mortgage type solicitors who hadn’t done his homework enough to know that she lived in an apartment.
Kate picked up the remote and flipped on the television. Though she was no more a flopper than a shuffler, she flopped on the couch.
A silver-tongued spokesperson announced the upcoming topic as animated graphics filled the screen: “Next up on LIVE WITH CELESTE: Sensational Singles—How to find satisfaction inside yourself.”
Kate rolled her eyes. She grabbed a journal off the coffee table and uncapped its pen. There were times when the only solace Kate could find was sitting with her journal. It was a place she could unburden herself of everything she was thinking and feeling, no matter how embarrassing it was to admit to anyone but herself.
Kate turned to her most recent entry. It was from just a few days prior. Doodled in the margins of her enthusiastic detailing of what had been a progressing relationship with Dustin, she had written in his last name with her first. How quickly life could change.
As she turned the page, the talk show guest’s commentary captured her attention.
“That’s when I finally confronted my reality. I’m pushing the big 3-O,” the woman on set said.
Kate looked up at the TV. “My sympathies.”
The talk show guest continued, as if in answer to Kate. “I live in L.A. where, like it or not, the male population in my decade is divided thusly: fifty-percent married, twenty percent lazy-butt gigolos, roughly fifteen percent are not of my general persuasion, then ten percent are your basic drippy, I’d never look at them guys, and what’s left? Let’s face it. Prison romances are highly overrated.”
Kate zapped off the TV. Lazily, she breezed through the Virtually Mine pamphlet, and then talked back to the silenced set. “Hey, you forgot imaginary. The rest of the guys are imaginary.”
Just then, M.J. returned to the apartment, bubbling over with excitement. “He’s a therapist and his name is Rob. Do you love that? Dr. Rob Cute-Beyond-Belief-With-A-Dog Galloway. Wouldn’t that sound great? It rhymes. M.J. Galloway. Ha!”
Kate looked up, determined not to let her own discouragement drench M.J.’s delight. “How did you meet him?”
“I pitched him on my dog walking business.”
“You don’t have a dog walking business,” Kate countered.
M.J. picked up the Virtually Mine brochure off the cushion and perched on the couch by Kate. “Well, I couldn’t say I’m a Meter Maid. Everybody hates Meter Maids.”
M.J. extended one of her dog walker cards to Kate.
Kate admired M.J.’s indefatigable spirit as much as the computer-made card. “Ooh, slick. So, he has your number, now. Maybe he’ll call you.”
M.J. perused the Virtually Mine flyer. “Mama! Cute guys. You should totally do this. Things don’t work out with Robbie-boy, I might.”
“They’re not real boyfriends,” Kate explained. “They’re totally imaginary. See? Rent an Imaginary Boyfriend. It’s a virtual romance thing.”
M.J. leafed through the pages. “I had an imaginary boyfriend when I was eleven. Jimmy Carmichael. Let me tell you, we were quite the little item.”
“It says they send you cards and call you and stuff. Shoot, I’d be happy just to have the light blink at me on the answering machine.”
M.J. handed Kate the brochure. “So do it. At least an imaginary guy won’t break your heart.”
Kate shook her head. “It’s not like I’m over Dustin. And let me tell you, my mother is definitely not over him.”
A look of shock crossed M.J.’s face. “Haven’t you told her?”
“Can’t. Not yet. So, maybe Dustin isn’t classic marriage material, but I already miss him. I still expect him to come walking through that door.”
M.J. shrugged. “So, buy yourself a buffer boy. Bridge the gap.” The ringing phone interrupted.
“If it’s my mom, don’t answer it,” Kate said. “I’m not ready to get into this.”
M.J. checked their Caller ID. Her eyes widened. “It’s him!”
“Who, him?”
“My him,” M.J. effused. “Rob Galloway!” With that, M.J. picked up the wireless and happily headed back toward her room. “M.J. Poster, Dog Walker Extraordinaire speaking...Oh hi, Rob. Great to hear from you.”
Later that night, as hard as Kate tried to focus on pouring her heart out into the receptive pages of her journal, it was that Virtually Mine brochure that kept tugging at her mind. It wasn’t so much the concept of having an Imaginary Boyfriend that tickled her thoughts. It was the idea of what the illusion might do to Dustin, especially after what Reesa had said about a little competition bringing Andre to his senses.
Maybe, just maybe, an Imaginary Boyfriend could be more than a buffer boy. Perhaps just the impression of her having moved on would be enough to regain Dustin’s attention. Maybe it would revitalize and recalibrate their relationship. She could be truthful in what little she would choose to tell Dustin about it. The rest could be her secret.
Pondering things, Kate couldn’t see the harm. After all, this boyfriend would only be a flight of fancy. There was no real person this would actually hurt. There was even a chance it might actually help.
Kate picked up the brochure. She studied at its glossy images and the Internet site it boasted. Clearly, this was a thriving enterprise. A lot of women must be renting Imaginary Boyfriends from them for one reason or another, she presumed. Finally, Kate put the brochure down. Resolutely, she told herself there was no way in heaven that she was anywhere near that desperate.
five
♥
