by Claire Adams
I nearly choked on my water. “You’re definitely not the same sweet Madeline from Ron’s family albums.”
“I told you, it’s Maddie now,” she said. “And I think we’ve all grown up. I mean, look at you,” she gestured at me. “There isn’t a single woman here who isn’t gawking at you.”
I glanced around; she was right, it seemed. I had the eyes of plenty of women, young and elders alike. It was somewhat of a new experience; I hadn’t always taken care of my body, and the attention of women hadn’t arrived until several years prior when I began going to the gym twice a day. The larger the muscles, the more attention I received, especially as the years flew by and my jawline hardened and eyes softened.
“You have quite the admirers as well,” I said. The bar against the opposite wall was full of young, eligible bachelors, no doubt rich thanks to their billionaire fathers and trust funds, and they all were staring at Maddie and gawking at me at the same time. She smiled and waved in their direction, and shortly afterward a cocktail arrived at our table addressed to Maddie.
“Compliments of the young men at the bar,” our waiter said. I ordered a whiskey on the rocks, and we decided on an appetizer.
“Young men at the bar,” Maddie said as she sipped on her drink. “How am I supposed to know which one paid for it?”
I fidgeted in my seat. “What would you do if you knew who it was?” I asked.
“I’d thank them personally,” she said. “I probably should introduce myself, and give them my handle name, so they know how to follow me.”
“Follow you?” I frowned. “Why would you want that? And what’s a handle name?”
She laughed, covering her heart-shaped smile with a slender hand. “Gavin, you’re not on social media, are you?”
I shook my head. “No. I think Ron made me a profile, but I don’t even know the password.”
“Do you know what I do for a living?” she asked. I tried remembering what Ron had mentioned over the years.
“You’re an actress, right? Ron said you’ve been in a few commercials, and had two big parts in some sitcom show.”
“Two big parts,” she repeated and finished her cocktail. “Dead girl number one, and abducted girl number two. I guess you could consider those big parts.”
She seemed to grow uncomfortable as the conversation continued.
“Yeah, I’m an actress and model, but that doesn’t pay enough, so I’m also a promoter. I sell myself on social media. I get followers, and take lots of pictures with products, and get those followers to buy those products. It doesn’t pay that well, but that combined with shoots and small roles, it’s enough.” Our appetizer arrived, and she ordered another cocktail.
I glanced at the men still ogling her at the bar. “So you’d flirt with all those men, give them your social media name, promote products to them, and get paid?” It was an insane thought.
“That’s how it works,” she said and tore off a piece of bread. There was a plate of olive oil and balsamic vinegar at our side, and she dunked a fluffy, sourdough piece into it.
“How is it coming along? The modeling and acting, I mean,” I asked.
“I get about one photo shoot every two weeks, and an acting gig every few months,” she said. “My friend, Nancie, triples that. She actually just got an offer to model in Hollywood. She’ll probably be leaving at the end of the month.”
“That’s incredible,” I said. “Is that what you want to do?”
“More than anything,” she said as her second drink arrived. I finished my first. “Photo shoots are fun, but it’s the acting that really gets me. I don’t know why, but there’s something special about just closing your eyes as yourself,” she lowered her eyelids. “And opening them as a different person.” When she opened her eyes and looked at me, I could have sworn there were literal stars in them.
“And I’m good at it. It’s the one thing I can say that I’m, without a doubt, good at. I love transforming myself into someone else. I go crazy about it, what their background is, how they would feel about certain things. Sometimes, if I’m playing a part in a play at a local theater, I’ll pretend that I’m my character for all the months leading up to opening night.” She smiled and gazed behind me, toward the ceiling. “There aren’t many talent agencies in Alaska, and of course no one ever really shoots here. Hollywood is where my dreams are.”
“Then you should go,” I said. Maddie blinked as if realizing I was still there, and a blush spread over her cheeks.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just gushed like that. I’m sorry, Gavin,” she said. “I didn’t even know what I was saying.”
“You were just talking about your dreams,” I said. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Our dinner arrived, with a second drink for me, and we spent our first moments of eating in silence. I had a flaky salmon that melted in my mouth, and Maddie enjoyed a roasted duck with a sweet potato puree. She took her time eating and followed each bite with a sip of water.
“What about you?” she asked. “What are your dreams?”
I finished my whiskey and leaned back against the seat. “I don’t have any crazy ambitions like you, that’s for sure.” I considered it a moment and realized that I hadn’t planned anything for my life. Especially not past six months.
“There’s nothing you want to do?” she asked. “Travel the world, start a company, write a book?”
“I wouldn’t mind writing a book,” I said. “I used to write horror stories from middle school all the way to college. They were popular, if you can believe it.”
“I think I remember one!” she leaned forward. “About a little boy lost in a hospital, and each room was a different nightmare, right? With clowns, and I think a fucked-up Santa Claus, and another little boy that followed him with a bloody knife.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You read that? You must have been like 10.”
“Ron wasn’t the most positive role model,” she said. We finished our entrees at the same time. “I remember loving it though, and it scared the shit out of me. But it was amazing. I think you could write an amazing book.”
“That’s a nice thought,” I said. The whiskey was beginning to make my head fuzzy, but I didn’t refuse a third glass as the waiter delivered it. “I don’t really have to worry about money, not since I sold my father’s company. So, I could just lock myself in my room all day and write without a single worry.”
“I completely forgot about that,” she said. “That must have been hard.”
“The circumstance wasn’t easy, that’s for sure,” I said. Our waiter brought over a plate of truffles, each a different type of chocolate. I let Maddie bite into each of them first as I nursed my drink.
“That reminds me,” she said and took a deep breath. “The entire reason I even asked you here.”
I didn’t understand what she meant at first until it dawned on me. She had a proposal for my predicament. Up until then, it felt like a natural first date.
“Oh.” I shifted in my seat and finished my drink. I was beginning to regret ever drinking at all. “That’s right.”
We left the rest of the chocolates untouched as she dove straight into a speech that sounded rehearsed.
“You promised your mother that you’d marry a woman before she passes away, but according to Ron you haven’t even spoken with a woman in years, other than the occasional one-night stand,” she paused, and it looked as if she were forcing the words out of her mouth. “I’ll pretend to marry you. Mona likes me, and my family, and it’ll be easy to convince her that you and I have sort of been talking for a while. Our families have always been in each other’s lives. It’ll be fake, but real enough for your mom.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried processing her words. I was beginning to sober up instantly, but there was still a slight blur at the edge of my vision making it impossible to see anything else other than her.
“A fake marriage?” I clarified, and she nodded. “To convince my
mom that you’re my wife.”
“I know it’s awful, but you seemed desperate, and I wouldn’t mind giving your mom some peace of mind,” she said. I imagined myself at a fake wedding with her. She was impossibly beautiful, with real ambitions and a sensible head. And maybe it was the whiskey, but there was some sort of a spark in between us throughout dinner. For the first time in years, I actually felt interested in seeing a woman again.
“That’s a nice offer,” I said. “It would make my mom so happy, especially if it was you.” Maddie smiled. “I’ll have to think about it, though. It’s a big decision.”
She nodded and took another deep breath before opening her mouth. “But,” she said, and my heart sunk. “If you want to do this with me, I won’t do it for free.”
My hands clenched beneath the table as a fierce rage boiled inside of me. It took me several moments to force myself to remain calm, but even then, I felt a flush spread over my face and a snarl taking hold over my mouth. Was she only doing this for the money? I had no idea how to respond, or even what to feel. Of course, Maddie knew how much money I had; it was a small town, and her cousin was my best friend after all. And she knew exactly how to get info from him.
I stood abruptly, needing fresh air and distance from such an immoral gold-digger. “I’ll be in touch,” was all I could say and I left the table. I pulled out cash from my wallet and threw it in the direction of our waiter, not caring at all how rude I was.
“Keep the change,” I said and returned to my car. It would surely be more than enough for both of our meals. Maddie had gotten a free dinner out of me, but there was no way I would let the bitch get any more.
I took deep breaths in the driver's seat of my car. Her proposal had sobered me nearly instantly, but I still wanted a clear mind before starting the ignition.
I repeated her words in my head. I’ll pretend to marry you. I couldn’t believe I had even considered it for a moment. I won’t do it for free.
I told her I’d be in touch, but the only thing I had left to say to her was she could go fuck herself.
Chapter Eight
Maddie
My hangover was worse than it ever had been before as I woke in the early morning. I had fallen asleep with the thought of dinner on my mind, and it seemed even a full night’s sleep wasn’t going to erase it. After Gavin rushed out of the restaurant with such speed that even the waiter had to apologize, I spent the rest of the night at the bar in between the young men who had been staring at me throughout the dinner. They paid for the rest of my drinks, and several had asked to continue the night. I managed to sneak in my handle name and asked that they follow me before slipping out of the restaurant unnoticed.
I checked my phone. Three new followers. I groaned; there were at least eight men who had written my name down.
I almost chuckled at the thought of Gavin following my social media accounts. He was clearly out of touch with reality, but I couldn’t blame him. Was what I offered a mistake? It certainly felt dirty, and trashy. It didn’t matter; I convinced myself as I got ready for the gym. Nancie was most likely already there.
Gavin wouldn’t go for it anyways; his red face and dilated pupils had been enough of a tell. It just another bridge burned; in fact, the only thing I had to worry about now was Ron knowing I was an awful person.
But something about the dinner with Gavin made me feel awake, more alive than I’d felt in a long time. I was happy as I spoke about my dreams, and of Hollywood. I was reminded of why I pursued acting in the first place. I realized that until then, thinking about Hollywood left me in a depressed state of mind. But now, my passion almost felt rejuvenated. And somehow I felt that Gavin was to thank for it.
Not that he would ever speak to me again.
I met Nancie at the gym. We exchanged a head nod as she returned her attention to the treadmill beneath her, and I took turns on each of the strengthening spots. I had been weak growing up and hadn’t found a true workout that I appreciated until a boy from college had asked me to lift with him. I had fallen in love with it from the first moment.
Nancie left in the middle of my workout, and I returned home to find her in front of her vanity applying make-up.
“Another product shoot?” I asked. We didn’t ever bother with make-up unless it was to advertise a product. Professional shoots always preferred us to arrive with an empty face.
“My agent just got me into a last-minute ad-shoot for those new shoes we both liked,” she said. “I’ll bring a pair back for you.”
“Thanks,” I said and started on breakfast. Nancie was particular about what she ate on days with jobs, so I made her an egg-white omelet with tomato and spinach, and sprinkled a teaspoon of feta on it as I delivered it to her room. My breakfast was similar, but with a side of turkey bacon and a cup of steaming coffee.
I ate on her bed as she balanced an eyelash curler in one hand and a fork in the other.
“How was your dinner?” she asked. I had only mentioned that I had a business dinner. I was too afraid to admit what I did to anyone.
“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 t
o 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.
