Dirty Fake Fiancé

by Sky Corgan

  Finally, five o'clock rolled around. Reluctantly, I waited at my desk while everyone else took their leave for the afternoon. Jack would emerge from his office soon to give his parting words, and then I would go find a bar and a drunk guy to bum drinks off of. It was one of those days.

  Patience wasn't one of my virtues though, and after sticking around until five fifteen with no sign of Jack, I decided I would just leave. Fuck him. I didn't need to endure a dismissive condescending bullshit speech. My day had been bad enough, and besides, we both already knew what he was going to say anyway.

  Not wanting to waste gas, I decided to change into my tennis shoes and walk down the street a ways. Whatever bar I came to should suffice. They all had the same kinds of guys in them, guys who like buying pretty girls a drink. And if they didn't, then my afternoon would only be that much worse. It wasn't uncommon for my shit sandwiches to get a few extra helpings before the day was through.

  After walking a few blocks, I finally came to a bar that looked like it had a decent mix of young guys and businessmen. Now it was just scouting the area for the one who would most likely buy for me. It wasn't long before I saw a group of college guys staring at me from their table, making perverted jests and laughing in their beers. Using my best model walk, I strode over to them, leaning on their table so that my cleavage was well exposed.

  “Hey guys,” I flirted, but before I could get another word out my phone rang, distracting me from the task at hand. Annoyed, I flipped it open, pulling a chair out to seat myself at the table. The boys awkwardly greeted me, not seeming to mind my presence while they waited for me to get off the phone.

  “Where'd you go?” Jack Kemble inquired on the other end of the line. I could feel my anger rising just from the sound of his voice.

  “To a bar down the street,” I replied.

  “Which one?”

  “Shenanigans.”

  “I'll be there in a minute.”

  Before I had a chance to ask why, I heard the phone disconnect. Exasperated, I groaned, pulling myself up out of the chair to push it back in under the table.

  “Hey, where are you going?” one of the guys asked.

  “Sorry. I have to go deal with something. I'll come back if you guys are still here when I'm done,” I promised, feeling a bit embarrassed.

  Did Jack Kemble want to fire me so badly he'd come do it in person? I wondered. It would be a really dick move, especially to fire me publicly. If that was his plan, then I wouldn't hesitate to give him a piece of my mind. At least, the display would probably earn me some sympathy drinks.

  My stomach was a ball of nerves as I crawled up onto a bar stool in front of the bar, staring straight ahead as if I were afraid to lay eyes on Jack. The bartender came by to ask if I wanted anything to drink, reminding me of how poor I was.

  It took about fifteen minutes before Jack arrived. I hadn't actually seen him walk in, but as soon as he spoke, I knew his voice. “Do you normally drink water when you go to a bar, or is that just a really tall glass of vodka?”

  “I wish it was the latter of the two,” I admitted, still refusing to look at Jack. Let's just get this done and over with, I thought. Prolonging it only made me more anxious.

  “Bad day?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I sipped my water, trying to keep conversation short.

  “Well, if you want, I'll take you out drinking after we're done. You probably don't want to drink beforehand.”

  “What are you talking about?” I turned my eyes to him finally, giving a confused look.

  “I thought I would take you shopping.” Jack smiled warmly at me.

  “Shopping?”

  “Yeah. Consider it a sign-on bonus.”

  “A sign-on bonus,” I repeated, thinking. Part of me wanted to smile, but the other part of me was angry. Like usual, I had blown things out of proportion—imagined a scenario that wasn't real. He had never intended to fire me in the first place. And now, I had made him have to come find me, which couldn't possibly look good.

  “That isn't necessary,” I said meekly.

  “But it is. I can't have you walking around my office wearing the same thing every other day. It doesn't look right.”

  “No one sees me but you and the blonde squad.”

  “The blonde squad?” Jack laughed, though I didn't find it funny at all. “People in the elevator see you. People in the parking lot see you. People on the street see you, and they see you coming into my building.”

  “I get it,” I sighed. What he was getting at was that I was an embarrassment to his company. It made my blood boil, but I knew better than to say anything. “Shopping. Alright, let's go.” I pushed away from the bar.

  To my surprise, Jack had walked to the bar, the same as I had. The trek back to the office was long and filled with awkward silent. Only once did he speak to me when he looked down at my shoes to say, “I want you wearing your heels when you go to get me coffee in the mornings.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him.

  Once we got to the parking garage, Jack led me to his black Escalade. We crawled inside and buckled up before taking off down the ramp.

  “I'm surprised you don't have a chauffeur,” I commented, trying to make conversation.

  “I usually only have one when I'm going somewhere important or somewhere I need to be recognized or feel safe.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, how are you liking the job so far?”

  “It's easy enough.”

  “How are the girls treating you?”

  “They don't talk to me, which is fine. I come here to work, not to socialize.”

  “If only more people felt that way.”

  We drove to Fifth Avenue where Jack walked me up and down the street, in and out of stores, dressing me up like a real-life doll and loading down our arms with shopping bags. It felt strange to shop with a man like that. He hand-picked every single outfit and forced me to try them all on, scrutinizing me once I came out of the dressing room. If the fit wasn't perfect, he'd send me back in with something else. By the time we were finished shopping, Jack had spent well over three thousand dollars on me, and I was absolutely exhausted.

  “That was a work out,” I commented when we climbed back into the car, trying not to make it sound like a complaint.

  “It was necessary,” he told me, still sounding condescending.

  “So what if I quit tomorrow?” I turned to look at him, trying to get a reaction.

  “You won't quit tomorrow,” he replied, deadpan.

  “How do you know?” I arched an eyebrow.

  “Because tomorrow is Saturday. You'd have to wait until Monday to quit.”

  I thought about saying I could always quit that very moment, but talking about quitting made me uncomfortable, and I was already regretting bringing it up in the first place. The last thing I needed was to make Jack paranoid that I'd leave, especially after he spent so much money on me.

  When I realized we weren't heading back to Syngex, I asked where we were going.

  “To a bar,” he replied simply.

  “I don't really feel like drinking,” I told Jack. The afternoon had already been tense and awkward enough as it was.

  “Well I do, and I think you at least owe me your company.”

  He had me there. There was no way I could back out after all he had done for me. Spending the afternoon with my boss wasn't how I had envisioned my Friday night, though I would have just stayed home otherwise.

  After the way Jack had treated me since taking me on as his employee, I no longer feared him hitting on me. All the kindness of Jim had faded away, and the professionalism of Jack had taken over. If he said he just wanted my company, I would believe him and do my best not to be a Debbie downer.

  I honestly had no idea how I was supposed to entertain him though. We had absolutely nothing in common. Jack was famous and successful with a perfect life and everything he wanted, while I was poor and barely scraping along, mooching off my best fr
iend and the good grace of Jack's charity. Thinking about it made me feel like crap. It seemed like I was indebted to everyone I knew with no way to pay them back.

  To my surprise, we pulled up to a little hole in the wall. The parking lot was sparse, and Jack's Escalade stuck out like a sore thumb. This was definitely not a place I would think was Jack Kemble approved.

  He led me inside where a homely looking older female bartender greeted us before we went to slide into a booth. She was at our table to take our drink order before I had even figured out what I wanted.

  “I'll have a martini, shaken not stirred,” Jack said before looking over to me.

  “I'll have a DosXX, dressed, please.” It was the first thing that came to mind.

  “I didn't figure you for a beer drinker.” Jack seemed amused.

  “What did you figure me for then?”

  “I thought you'd like fruity cocktails.”

  “I do every once in a while. Beer is cheap though.”

  “Not DosXX. It's an import.”

  “Should I have gotten Budweiser?” I asked quizzically. Was he guilting me out for ordering a more expensive beer too?

  “No. You should get whatever you want.”

  “Well then, I guess we can both be happy then. I got what I wanted.” I didn't know what else to say.

  “Getting what you want is a good thing.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So what do you want, out of life, I mean?”

  “Hm.” I paused for a moment. “I think I just want to be able to get by every month without struggling.”

  “You're not dreaming very big.”

  “I like to keep my dreams realistic. Besides, the time for dreaming big is over.”

  “What makes you say that?” He arched an eyebrow.

  “Well.” I felt suddenly nervous, not knowing how to answer. Should I tell him that I didn't have any aspirations? That I thought thirty was too old to be going back to college? Anything I said would sound stupid, and he'd probably have a counter for it.

  Thankfully, the bartender came to deliver our drinks, distracting Jack from the question. He thanked her and handed her his credit card to open a tab. In all honesty, I was a bit surprised. I figured we'd just have one friendly drink and then head back to the office. By the looks of it, Jack planned on sticking around for a while.

  “Do you drink a lot?” I asked, feeling embarrassed by the question as soon as it left my mouth.

  “No more than most people do.” He smirked, and the room lit up around him. Was it the dim lighting making Jack look so attractive? I hadn't been this close to him since the day we had coffee together. It felt like that had been eons ago though—another life, another time.

  “Sorry, that probably sounded rude.”

  “No, it's fine. You're nervous aren't you?”

  Was it that obvious? “A bit,” I admitted.

  “Don't be. We're going to be spending a lot of time together. Sometimes it will be stuffy, and I'll have to play the part of the stern boss. Other times it will be casual like this.

  “Outside of the office, I want you to think of me as a friend. I'd like to be someone who you can turn to . . . for anything. If you're ever in trouble and need help, you can call me. Or if you ever just want someone to talk to. I'm a pretty nice guy once you get to know me.”

  Jim was coming back. I could see him again behind Jack's kind eyes. It was like Jekyll and Hyde, and I now understood who I could expect to see when.

  “Alright, Mister Kemble.” I nodded.

  “Jack,” he corrected me. “When we're alone like this, it's just Jack.”

  “Alright, Jack.” A warm tingling swirled in the pit of my stomach from using his name. How many people were allowed to call Jack Kemble casually by his first name? It sounded alien to me—almost like I was doing something wrong by saying it.

  “So, tell me about your living arrangements. You said that you were worried about losing your apartment.”

  I explained my relationship with Mandy, how she had gone to bat for me every time her father had told her to kick me out. Mandy would be thrilled to know Jack asked about her, so I tried to paint her in the best light possible. Not like there was any other light to paint her in. She had been my savior for the past two years, and she deserved all the praise I could give.

  “She sounds like an outstanding young woman,” he said.

  “She really is.”

  “Perhaps you'll introduce us sometime.”

  “I think she'd like that.” I smiled, wondering if it would even realistically be a possibility. Mandy would go crazy if she ever got to meet Jack Kemble. It was amusing to imagine the excitement on her face. Of course, even that I was probably over playing. Mandy would be reserved enough to keep poised, I was sure. But inside, she'd be screaming like a school girl.

  We drained our drinks and ordered another round. The more I drank, the less awkward I felt around Jack. He really wasn't that bad once you got him alone, like any other normal person. Maybe if I drank enough, I could even pretend he wasn't my boss.

  “So why isn't there a Mrs. Kemble?” I asked, the alcohol making me braver than normal.

  Jack's face darkened, and I knew I had struck a chord. “There was going to be . . . but she left me for another man.”

  “Ouch. Sorry I asked.” I winced sympathetically.

  “It's fine. As you've probably heard, I'm not really the marriage type anyway.” He brushed it off.

  “I have heard some things.” I smirked.

  “Oh, have you now?” He looked at me, his interest piqued. The room suddenly became hot. Of course Jack would be curious after I said something like that. “So what have you heard?”

  “I'd rather not say.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I'm not sure if you'd consider it bad or not?”

  “Well, I won't know until you tell me.”

  I hesitated. “I've just heard that you're a bit of a playboy.”

  He guffawed. “Who hasn't heard that about me? I thought you were going to tell me something I didn't know.” He took a long sip of martini, grinning all the while. “You know, I never actually wanted to marry. My engagement was set up for me a long time ago. I'm kind of glad it didn't work out.”

  “Well, if it wouldn't have made you happy, then I'm glad it didn't work out too.”

  “What about you? I haven't seen a ring on your finger, so I'm assuming there's no Mister Strayer lurking about.”

  “No.” My stomach rolled in a ball of nerves. I didn't really feel like talking about my romantic relationships, or lack there of.

  “No boyfriend either?” Came the next predictable question.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I'm a lesbian.” It was the only thing I could think of that would kill any possibility Jack would hit on me.

  “A lipstick lesbian.” He observed. “I like lesbians.”

  “Most men do.” Now things were getting awkward. Why had I said that? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  “So, no girlfriend then?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “I'm not really looking for a relationship?”

  “Then you're a playboy too . . . or playgirl?” Jack scrunched up his face in thought, looking absolutely adorable. It was obvious the alcohol was beginning to kick in.

  “Nope. I'm big into relationships, being monogamous and all. I'm just not interested in one right now. My life is too unstable.”

  “Perhaps when you've settled down then?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I can drink to that.” He sloppily raised his glass to clink it against my beer, and I couldn't help but giggle.

  “So, what about you? You don't ever want to get married?”

  “Lord no. Not until I'm old and my looks start to fade. We're young. We should live like we are. There are too many beautiful women out there to settle down with just one.”

  “There are many beautif
ul women out there,” I agreed. “But finding that one is like finding the diamond in the rough. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen. Truly compatible people are a rarity, like finding a hundred-dollar bill when you're walking down the street. You need to grab the opportunity and never let it go.”

  Jack arched an eyebrow. “I can't tell if you're trying to sound like a romantic, or if you're comparing finding the perfect person to stealing. If you find money on the street, it might belong to someone nearby who accidentally dropped it.”

  “It might. And if it does and that person comes back to it, then it was never yours in the first place. Even hundred-dollar bills belonged to someone else first. But if no one claims it, then I see nothing wrong with taking it.”

  “This conversation is getting a bit convoluted. And love isn't one of my favorite subjects, to be frank.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “I don't know. I don't think so. My life has always been lived in the fast lane. There was never really any time to delve into relationships that deeply. Sure, there were some women I preferred over others, but I wouldn't call it love.”

  “What about your fiance?”

  “We didn't spend a whole lot of time together either, but that's a story I don't really feel like getting into.”

  “Apologies for asking you so many things that make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “It's fine. Let's just move on from the subject. I tried to once already, but you drug us back into it.”

  “Alright, something else then,” I said, though I couldn't think of anything to talk about of interest or that wouldn't offend him or bore me. Apparently, Jack couldn't come up with a subject either, and after a few minutes of sitting in awkward silence, we both finished our drinks, and he suggested we leave.

  When we got back to Syngex, he insisted on calling me a cab. I hadn't had that many drinks, but I knew Jack wouldn't let me refuse his offer. Safety first and all. While we waited for the cab to arrive, we transferred all the shopping bags from his car to mine. They filled up the entire trunk and even spilled over into the backseat. Jack assured me they'd be safe locked away in my car in the parking garage. As we were transferring them over, he picked an outfit for me to wear the following day and put it in a separate bag that I was required to take home. The friendliness between us had faded. Jekyll had turned to Hyde, and Jack was my boss again.