I take a deep breath as I cross the street and stride toward her on the sidewalk, and I utter commands to myself in vain.
Do not think about how loud I could make her scream.
She’s such a sweet girl. But I can sense that dirty side of her. I’ve caught glimpses of it in the past. And I’d love to pop her bad boy cherry. I wonder if Clarissa’s ever been with a bad boy like me, who really knows how to treat a woman.
Wait. My mind wanders...and suddenly I’m considering a question I don’t necessarily want to know the answer to:
Has Charissa hooked up with other bad boys before?
She doesn’t seem like the type.
What kind of type is that, exactly? A type of guy like me?
She better fucking not have, or else...
Whoa there, Worthington. Not thirty minutes ago you explained to Cole how there is no possible way you’ll be taking a relationship with Clarissa to any sort of next level.
And now I’m having weirdly possessive thoughts about her?
I need to nip this thought train in the bud.
Pausing on the sidewalk, closer to where Clarissa and the real estate agent are chatting, I give myself a light slap on the cheek.
Get yourself together man. Clarissa and you aren’t a thing. You’ll never be a thing. Being a fake thing is as close as you’re going to get. So just enjoy it while it lasts.
I shake out my head from side to side to psyche myself up.
“Mason?” Clarissa’s voice rings from behind me. I whip around. Uh oh. Did they just see the weird stuff I was just doing?
“Hey, Clarissa! What’s up?” I say, snapping out of whatever funk I was just in. I walk toward them with my usual confident stride.
“Uhm, did you just slap yourself in the face?” she asks.
I clear my throat and furrow me brow. “No!” I huff. “Why would I do that?”
“Oh okay, because I swear I just saw you slap yourself in the face, but I could be imagining things.”
“I saw it too,” The real estate agent says. “Hi! I’m Virginia Banks, by the way. Nice to officially meet you, Mason. Although I believe you might have made me a couple of drinks at The Watering Hole.”
“Oh really?” I search my mind to remember her face.
I grin. “Long Island Iced Tea. That was your drink.”
Virginia’s jaw slips open. “You remember my drink? Oh, you’re good,” she says.
I breathe a sigh of relief that I’ve somehow switched the topic of conversation away from me slapping myself in the face.
Thank God for my drink memory.
“Hey, what can I say? Some people can put a face to a name. I can put a face to a drink. It’s a bartender thing.”
She cocks her head, a little confused, but she seems to be going along with me. “Right.”
We head inside and start the tour.
“You know this kinda reminds me of like what the Ghostbusters house looks like,” I say, noting the pole in the back. We walk over to it and it is very much like the Ghostbusters house. The pole slides up (or down) three stories.
“That’s actually an astute observation Mason. This is an old firehouse. In the early 1900s, this was a volunteer firehouse for Blackwell. Once they built the modern fire station, they never tore down this original structure. They tried to use it as a warehouse for a little while, but that didn’t work out. To this day, as you can see, it still has everything from the original firehouse structure.”
“Holy crap! This is amazing!” I say, walking around, envisioning my business. “This place just has so much space and multiple levels.”
“Yeah!” Clarissa adds, and her eyes widen. “I can see it now. Firehouse!” she says, glancing my way.
“Damn! Firehouse. Holy shit! That’s a great name. We could do firefighter-themed drinks.” My mind fills with a vision of Blackwell’s newest, most happening bar. “We could fill this space with fire extinguishers…”
“Hot firefighter strippers,” Clarissa adds.
I furrow my brow.
“Just kidding,” she shrugs. “I know we don’t want to have that crazy of a place.”
“Maybe, if it’s a bachelorette party,” I admit. “Anyways, damn. My mind is going crazy just thinking of what kind of drinks we could do for the firefighter theme.”
“Oh, you two are so cute,” Virginia interjects, glancing between us. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been going out?”
We glance at each other, and I fumble for words. My mouth opens, but words don’t come out.
“Six months,” she finally says.
And at the exactly time, I say “Six weeks.”
Clarissa and I lock eyes, giving each other the ‘Oh Shit’ look.
Virginia touches her hand to her forehead and furrows her brow in confusion, her gaze darting between the two of us.
“I mean, I guess it depends on your definition of ‘going out,’” I elaborate. “It’s so complicated these days to figure out when you really start ‘dating,’ you know?”
Virginia shakes her head. “Is it really?”
“Oh yes,” I nod. “You’ve got to differentiate between when you start ‘texting’ and then ‘talking’ and then ‘kinda dating,’ followed by...you know what? I’ll stop there. But you get my point.”
We’re barely twenty-four hours into this relationship ruse and I’m already coming apart at the seams.
Clarissa must sense my nervousness, because she nods and nuzzles into me to make for at least a slightly more convincing act.
“Ugh, we’re never gonna figure out our real anniversary date, are we, baby?”
I shake my head. “Someday, honey. Someday.” We nuzzle our noses together, because that’s what couple who are in love do, right?
Except that I’ve never nuzzled noses with a girl in my life.
“Okay, great,” Virginia says, a little hesitantly. “What’s the final decision on the place?”
We look at each other.
“We’ll talk it over for a few days but I really like it and Firehouse does have a nice ring to it,” I say.
“Yes!” Virginia nods. “And this area seriously needs a bar. I live down the block and you gotta put one in, something fun.”
“Oh, it’s gonna be fun,” Clarissa adds as she rubs her hand into my back.
“On that note,” Virginia says. “I have another appointment. So, I think you have the information you need. Take some time, think it over and let me know for sure and I can send over the paperwork. But I'm excited for this project. I really am. I think it's gonna be great for Blackwell as a whole. Someone needs to give that Sebastian guy some competition. He owns all the bars in this town.”
“Competition is my middle name,” I say. “Probably best to keep this whole idea for a bar under wraps for now.”
If Sebastian finds out I’m starting my own bar right under his nose while I continue working as the head bartender at his place, he won’t be happy.
“I'll be right back,” Clarissa says. “I have to test the bathroom out here.”
“Good idea, honey. Always good to actually use it and not just look at it. Make sure the plumbing’s all there,” I say.
Virginia squints, cocking her head a little to the side. She pulls out a clipboard with a pad of paper on it.
"Oh, and by the way,” she says, clicking her pen. “I’ll need this for the paperwork. Speaking of middle names, what is her middle name and what is your other business owners’ middle name?”
“Oh! Clarissa's middle name? It's Anastasia,” I say confidently.
"Oh, that's a beautiful middle name. But, it's wrong. It's on here," she says.
And I panic. "Oh, I didn't know you had it in front of you. That's weird.”
“Seems like if you have been dating someone for six months, you would know their middle name.”
I clear my throat. “Huh, I must have blanked on that.”
She sighs and takes a couple of steps toward m
e. "Look. Mason, I like you and I'm not going to say anything to anyone else, but it's clear as day you two aren’t really in a relationship."
“Don’t be silly.”
Virginia leans in and lowers her head. “Mason, don’t bullshit me. I will make sure the financing for this place is held up indefinitely if you are. I don’t care what you two are up to,but show me some respect here and just tell me the truth. I don’t do business with bullshitters. Thi is between me and you.” She raises an eyebrow.
Damn. She’s good.
“Alright. We’re not technically in a relationship. Fine,” I admit.
Virginia leans back, crossing her arms. An ever so slight, evil smile spreads across her face.
“I'm not gonna tell anyone, don't worry. But if you're going to be embarking on a business with someone, it's pretty darn important that you know what you're getting into. If you don't trust her, and both of your names are on that lease, this could end up being a disaster. You need to realize the possible hazards of stepping into this sort of agreement with someone. You want the foundation to this place built on rock, not sand. Understand?”
“I trust her,” I say without hesitation. “That's not an issue. Thanks for looking out. What is her middle name, anyway?”
“It's Anastasia," she says with a wink. "Got you!”
Fuck! I knew it. “How could I fall for that dirty little trick?”
Virginia grins, satisfied.
“I just like to know what's going on with my clients,” she says with a flip of her hair. "But, seriously Mason. I’m not going to tell anyone—because I like you—but get your story straight.” She leans in.
“And you’d better keep playing this little game of yours. Mrs. Crabtree hasn’t given out a single loan all year. Clearly, Clarissa’s motherly connection is your way in.”
“I know,” I choke out.
Clarissa returns from the bathroom, bubbly as ever.
“What’d I miss?”
11
Mason
Just the Jasmine
Virginia now gone, Clarissa pops her hip and gives me the evil eye as we stand inside the property.
“You seriously don't know my middle name?” She shakes her head.
“I thought I did, but she tricked me. I knew it in grade school. But let’s be honest. We haven't seen each other for a really long time."
“And you forgot all about me in that time,” she adds. Her shoulders sink a little bit. Before I can jump in, she continues. “This is crazy, what we're doing. This is dishonest.” She purses her lips and runs a hand through her long brown hair.
“What's dishonest is this system is stacked against people like us—honest people who're trying to make a living, make a business, be entrepreneurs, and help our community,” I counter. “And they won't give me a business loan alone."
She rubs my arm, though the look on her face screams frustration. "I know. I’ve agreed to go along with this ruse for your sake, and because I think it will be a unique brand of fun. But we really need to get our story straight. If people in town find out we’ve been playing a practical joke, they’re going to be pissed. And I’m going to have a reputation as a liar. I don’t want that.”
“Me neither.” I rub my forehead with my forefinger and thumb. “Fuck. If the school gets word that you’ve been making up weird lies to help your friend get loans…”
“They sure as hell won’t trust me around kids,” she finishes. “Which would be bad when I’m applying for a position as a social worker in town.”
“My thinking exactly.”
I pace up and down for a bit. Clarissa’s face is turned down toward the sidewalk, and her lips are pursed together. Tense.
Suddenly, it hits me like a brick what a selfish bastard I’m being about this whole thing.
“Let’s call it off,” I say, stepping so I am directly in front of her.
“Call it off? Just like that? Why?”
I take a deep breath. “I can’t have this on my conscience that I could get you in trouble—I’m talking real life trouble. This is a huge lie, Clarissa. This isn’t just a little white lie to your mom about where you were at homecoming.”
She crosses her arms and squints at me.
“You don’t think I can pull off being your girlfriend.”
I run a hand through my beard. My first instinct is to just tell her the truth. That I’ve had a crush on her forever.
“That’s not true. I know you can pull it off. You’re quite convincing, actually. I’m the one who might slip up.”
She rolls her eyes, and chuckles, but doesn’t say anything.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“It definitely wasn’t nothing. You just thought of something.”
“Okay, fine. My college boyfriend and I broke up because he had a phobia of commitment. And it’s funny—you have the same phobia. But you can’t even handle a fake commitment. Let alone a real commitment.”
“That’s not true,” I scoff defensively. “I can handle commitment.”
“Oh really?” she takes another step toward me. “When was your last long-term relationship?”
I open my mouth to start talking, and as ready as I am to prove her wrong, I can’t think of a thing. Instead, I decide to go on the offense.
“Wait. How the hell do you know about my relationship history? Slash my lack thereof.”
“Cole mentioned it to me once, he didn’t think you were the type who would ever settle down.”
My blood boils. Part of the bro code, which includes not dating each other’s siblings,also includes not divulging relationship details to said siblings.
“When did Cole mention that to you?”
She shrugs, and bats her eyes at me. “I always ask how you’re doing when we chat. You know, if you’re seeing anyone. And Cole always laughs at me for asking the same question. ‘Oh Mason? Forget it. He’s going to be forty and single. The only relationship longer than two weeks he has is with his mechanic.’ That’s what Cole said.”
I clench my fists at my sides. My mind swirls with all of the details of this conversation.
As if by magic, a lightbulb goes off inside me.
Clarissa asked Cole about me all the time.
Ergo, Clarissa was—is—interested in my relationship status.
And now, she’s the one who’s convincing me to stick it out in this fake relationship. Even when I’m giving her an opt out.
My rage ebbs, and fades into something like hopefulness. I gently bite my lip. Taking Clarissa’s hands in mine, I gaze into her eyes.
“I’m all in on this if you are. And I think it’s going to be a fantastic time. You’re the one I want for fake relationship. The only one.” I wink.
She sighs. “You know, for a second, I thought you were going to say something really sweet.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, there’s more where that came from.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Question though,” Clarissa adds. “What’s going to happen when we get to the end of the line?”
I notice the tiniest smirk tugging at the corners of her brain. I can see her synapses firing. “You have an idea! What are you thinking in that devilish brain of yours.”
“How’d you know I have an idea? And yes. When the bar is all set up and running, next spring right? We can just stage a breakup.”
I nod. “I like where your head’s at. You are thinking way ahead of the game.”
Her pupils flit back and forth as she thinks. “Yeah. We’ll make sure the loan is through and everything, and we’ll find some differences we have that are irreconcilable.”
My face tenses a little bit. “Like what? What on earth could be so irreconcilable that we wouldn’t want to stay together? You’re fucking adorable.”
“I am?”
“Yes. Of course.”
She licks her lips. She seems slightly flustered. “Oh. We will figure out something. Why do co
uples break up anyway. Maybe you want kids, and I don’t.”
“You don’t want kids?”
“I want lots of kids.”
“Me too. So that won’t work.”
I swear I notice her cheeks start to turn a rosy hue.
“Well... we can pretend I don’t. Or you can...I don’t know! It’s just an idea, Mason! I’m trying to help!”
“How many kids do you want?”
“How many do you want?” she shoots back.
“Say the number on three.”
She nods, and we count off. One. Two Three.
“Four!” she says.
I say four at the exact same time.
“Interesting,” she says.
I rub my face. This is not the topic I need to be thinking about right now.
“Anyways,” I continue. “No more fuck-ups. You’re right about that.”
“Right,” she agrees. “No more fuck-ups. We really have to pretend we are a full-on couple. We can’t risk it.
She pulls out a pen and paper from her purse.
“You carry around a notepad?” I ask. “You really are a nerd, aren't you?”
“Stop it. I do carry around a pen and pad though.”
“Okay. Well, great. Let's start figuring out everything.”
She makes a list. “We need to know exactly what Mrs. Crabtree might ask us today. We need to get our story straight and keep it straight.”
“Right,” I say. “Okay. They might ask us things like, ‘when did you start dating?’”
“Yes. So, when should we say we started? Does six months ago work? I’m fine with that. We’ll just tell people we kept it under wraps for most of that time.”
I take a deep breath. “Six months. I don't know if that's going to work.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I kind of had a little fling at the beginning of the summer,” I admit. “Do the math. It doesn't work.”
“Damn it, Mason.” She shakes her head.
I scratch my head. “What’s the matter? Are you getting jealous of me or is this fake jealous?”
She groans, a little theatrically. “Okay. We need to get that straight too. While we're ‘together’”—she makes air quotes around her fingers—we need to not be getting with other people. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Bartender with Benefits Page 7
