Who'd Have Thought

by G. Benson

“Stop buying that five-dollar coffee each day?” She turned to look at Frank, who sat steadily facing the opposite direction and ignored her. “How is that helpful to people with actual money issues? I get my coffee for a buck at the hospital coffee cart maybe three times a week. What is three dollars extra a week really going to do? Idiots.”

  Frank still didn’t turn around. He could be so rude.

  The number in the right-hand corner of her browser caught her eye; how did she have thirty-two browser pages open? This is what happened when she opened up a new page to ask all the inane questions that entered her head each day. She started exiting out of them all one by one, pausing at last night’s Craigslist adventures.

  Compensation.

  That stupid word.

  Also, you know, money. How much even was “generous compensation”?

  Well, her student loans were probably way more than whatever that amount was. Ugh.

  Curiosity piqued, she clicked on the answer button. She was a little buzzed from the one beer with dinner. Why not? They were never going to answer anyway. She quickly typed a response.

  Hey. I saw your ad requiring a spouse for a year. I won’t lie, it was the promise of compensation that caught my attention. I do come with a cat called Frank who has a stink eye to rival angry grandparents in the supermarket, but beyond that I come with no baggage. I’m clean, work full-time, and can be a bit too sarcastic at times. I’m also a klutz. I’m fluent in Spanish, if that’s any use. Let me know if you’d like to meet.

  She hit send and dragged herself off the couch for a shower.

  Sleep was going to be bliss.

  That message wasn’t going to go anywhere.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Go talk to her.”

  “No.”

  “Luce. Do it.”

  “She’s too pretty!”

  Sitting at one of the tables outside the coffee cart, Hayden rolled her eyes. She’d found a dollar in her locker and decided to splurge on a coffee. It was worth it to watch Luce melt at the sight of the coffee girl. Who was cute. Her high cheekbones and black skin were complemented by a very mischievous smile. Whenever one was directed at Luce, they practically went nonverbal.

  It was a little embarrassing to watch, and entirely entertaining.

  But Hayden was being nice about the second part, because Luce had paid for both their coffees, being great like that. Hayden didn’t think they knew about her money issues. Not in their entirety. But still.

  “There’s no such thing as too pretty.”

  Luce turned around. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss-I-Can’t-Even-Look-At-The-Waitress-At-My-Local-Café.”

  Hayden pursed her lips and held their eye contact. “Yeah, okay, fine. But she really was pretty.”

  “So is Clemmie.”

  Hayden felt her grin turn wicked. “Oh, Clemmie? Not Clementine, like on her nametag?”

  “Shit.”

  “When did you get her nickname?”

  “She told me, the other day.”

  Hayden took a smug sip of her coffee. “And did you give her your name?”

  “I mumbled something. Then paid and ran away.”

  “Good job.”

  “Thanks.” Luce grabbed both paper cups and stood. “Hayden, your phone’s been lighting up.”

  “Oh.” Luce wandered off to the trash can, and Hayden grabbed her phone. She had an e-mail, the name only a generic string of numbers, and something strange rolled over in her stomach. Could it be?

  Apparently it could.

  Is tonight suitable for you to meet? Somewhere public, as I do believe there can be issues with meeting people from the Internet privately. If that’s agreeable to you, we could meet at, say, 8:30 p.m. Location to be sent if you agree. I’ll wear a black beanie. If you could let me know what you will be wearing, that would be helpful—though I don’t recommend bringing your cat. Thank you.

  “Oh, my fucking hell.”

  “What?”

  Hayden closed her mouth and looked up. Luce was watching her, their head cocked.

  “Oh, nothing. My horoscope said something surprising.”

  Hayden worked so well under pressure in the ER. But making something up on the spot? Not her thing at all. She hated lying. But no way was she admitting to this.

  “You told me you thought horoscopes were a load of crap.”

  Sometimes, Hayden thought it would be easier to have a friend who hadn’t started out with her in the ER. Years of long and deliriously tiring shifts had a way of making the two of them divulge more random bits of information to each other than they might have normally.

  “Yeah, well, it said to watch my back, and I’m tired, so I overreacted.”

  Luce was still looking at her weirdly, and it was difficult not to squirm under the attention.

  “Whatever,” they finally said. “We need to get back.”

  Their fifteen-minute coffee break was up. Really, they should have accrued hours for all the ones they’d missed over the last few years, but that wasn’t how it worked.

  “I’ll come in a sec. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Okay.”

  Once Luce had walked away, Hayden dropped back down into her seat and chewed her lip. Did she reply? Hayden’s response had been on a desperate whim; she’d never expected anything back. Did the reply she’d just gotten read like an axe murderer reply? Maybe it was an axe murderer. Wherever this person suggested to meet probably wouldn’t even be a real place; there’d just be an empty warehouse, and then next week Hayden would be found chopped to bits.

  Wow, what an embarrassing way to go.

  Local queer killed by axe murderer in fake pay-to-wed scheme.

  After a second’s consideration, she quickly typed a response.

  Barring complications with work, I can meet at that time. I’ll be wearing a red jacket and will be without Frank. You should thank me personally for that.

  She hit send, swallowed heavily, and jammed her phone back in her pocket.

  There was work to do, and Hayden had to go deal with a neuro consult.

  ~ ~ ~

  This was ludicrous. Insanity.

  It took three attempts to walk inside the café at the address that had been immediately messaged back to her.

  Oh hell, Hayden was going to end up on the news. Some kind of special report. Last seen wearing a red jacket and a face of regret as she was pulled into unmarked van with a sign offering free candy.

  She took a deep breath.

  Clearly, Hayden had never grown out of her histrionics.

  She pushed the door open, and the warmth and smells of coffee and sweeteners washed over her. Divine. The café gave an instant feel of coziness. It was like its own little world, with squishy chairs and people sitting around with laptops. Her cousin was one of those people who sat in cafés with their computer. Hayden had asked him if he wrote much while there, and he’d laughed and said the idea was to write more but usually he ended up on social media.

  The café was maybe half-full. It was quite late, really, in the middle of the week. Someone sat with a stroller they were jiggling with their leg, clutching their coffee with an almost desperate gleam in their eye. Steer clear of that one, then.

  And Hayden spotted it.

  Black beanie, the person wearing it facing the other way. Maybe it wasn’t them? Why would they face the other way when waiting for someone? Hayden walked up, her hands in her pockets. A few feet away, she stopped.

  Walking away would be so simple. Turn, get swallowed up by the cool air outside, and delete the e-mails and pretend none of this had ever happened.

  But if they’d shown up, maybe it was all real?

  Hayden cleared her throat, loudly. Then paused. Had she really just done that?

  The person turned halfway, and finally stood and turned properly.

  And, for a split second at least, Hayden’s heart stopped.

  Samantha Thomson.

  Samantha Thomson, the coldhearted neurosurg
eon, wanted to pay someone to marry her. And Hayden had sent an e-mail of interest. And joked about her cat.

  It was wildly inappropriate, and completely the wrong thing to do, but Hayden burst out laughing.

  And for the first time ever, Hayden saw something like an emotion flash over Thomson’s face. Her eyes actually widened, ever so slightly.

  Or maybe she imagined it, because they narrowed immediately.

  Hayden stopped laughing, swallowing it down so fast she almost hiccupped. Her lips twitched, and the laughter died out, the feeling dissipating as if it had never existed.

  This was awkward.

  “Uh, hi, Thomson.”

  She didn’t answer. Those cool, green eyes were still appraising Hayden. If only Thomson wasn’t a good half-foot taller, because right now, even in a neutral place like this, the power dynamic was way off.

  “Hello…” Finally, Thomson had spoken. And obviously hadn’t remembered Hayden’s name.

  “Hayden. Hayden Pérez.”

  “Of course.”

  Hands still in her pockets, Hayden rocked back on her heels. “So…”

  Thomson was clearly trying to process this turn of events. To be honest, so was Hayden. This was not what she had been expecting. And right now, she wasn’t sure if this outcome was better or worse than the axe murderer theory.

  Unless Thomson was an axe murderer?

  “Uh, are you going to get a coffee?” Thomson asked.

  “A cof—what?”

  “A beverage. Something to drink. It’s what one usually does in a café.”

  “Uh…right. Yeah. I’ll just go order one.” Hayden turned to leave, remembered her manners, and turned back. “Do you want something?”

  “I have tea.”

  “Right. I’ll be back in a sec.” Hayden turned to join the short line.

  Oh. My. God.

  Brain numb, Hayden ordered a chai latte, not wanting to be awake all night again, and gave her name. She used the last twenty-dollar bill in her wallet and tried not to cry at the tiny amount of change she received as she waited by the pickup area. The drink came far too quickly, the barista calling her name within minutes. She almost wanted to glare at him, but he was about sixteen, and looked like he might have peed his pants if she did. So she settled for a polite look and grabbed her drink, hoping it would ward off the chill Thomson constantly emitted.

  Hayden took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. The glass of her chai was burning her fingers, but she held it tighter anyway.

  Was this real life? Were there candid cameras in the room? As she walked back over to Thomson, Hayden actually found herself checking the corners of the room for any sign of film equipment.

  She slid into the chair across from Thomson—one of those armchair-like seats that were always too uncomfortable to sit up straight in, yet made you look like a bored teenager if you rested your back against it. Deciding for comfortable, Hayden sat back and crossed her legs.

  Surprise, Thomson was sitting up. Her posture was impeccable. Lots of surgeons had a very subtle stoop, the by-product of bending over bodies all day, eyes tight with concentration. Not this woman, though.

  “You work in the ER.” Thomson poured some of her tea out. It was a green color. Was this woman even real?

  “Yes.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  Well, it wasn’t as if Hayden liked working with her either. Wait. Unless that wasn’t what she meant. “What—”

  “It’s unfortunate, because now you know about—” she waved her hand vaguely in the air “—this.” She paused to take a sip of her tea and swallowed slowly, as if considering this entire situation much more carefully than Hayden was. Hayden was too busy tripping out and trying to sip her chai nonchalantly and then hiding that she’d burned her tongue. “But I suppose that would make it less suspicious. We would be able to say we met there.”

  “You’re still thinking you would want…”

  “As I said, in many ways, this makes more sense.”

  “Ah.”

  This was so awkward. For something to do with her hands, Hayden picked her warm glass back up and wrapped her fingers around it, holding it to her chest as she stared at Thomson, who was staring at Hayden.

  “Why did you answer my ad?” Those eyes were on her again, and Hayden watched the woman with the stroller sit down with her second coffee. Poor woman.

  Should she answer that one truthfully? It couldn’t hurt.

  “The idea of cash, and I really did think it was a joke. I didn’t think anything would come of it.”

  “Why did you come if you thought it was a joke?”

  “I almost didn’t. So, why did you reply to my response?”

  Hayden looked back to Thomson and expected her to look away at the bold question as Hayden herself had done. But no. She kept that solid gaze on her.

  “I’ve had a lot of responses. Many were easy to screen. I met a few people. Most thought it was a joke or they left me feeling uncomfortable. I was about to give up on it altogether, but your response was…amusing.” There’d been another word on the tip of her tongue, Hayden could tell.

  “I’m a regular comedian.”

  Thomson’s face didn’t even twitch. She sipped her tea again.

  “So, why do you need to get fake married?” Hayden asked.

  “One rule, if we do agree to this, is that you don’t ask me that.” For some reason, Hayden’s cheeks went hot, as if she’d already known the question was taboo. “When it becomes necessary, I’ll tell you. But, for now, it’s not necessary.”

  “You think it’s not necessary for me, the person you may want to fake marry, to know why you want to fake marry me?”

  “Precisely.”

  “If I’m going to agree to this, I want part of the deal to be that you tell me eventually.”

  Thomson’s lips pursed, and Hayden held her eye. “If we go through with it? Fine. But only when I feel the need to divulge that information.”

  “Fine.” The reason wasn’t actually so important. But damn, was Hayden curious. What could it be? Unless—“Wait. Is it for a green card? Because I will need to know that. I don’t know a lot beyond what B-grade movies have taught me, but I do know that I’ll need to do a hell of a lot to prove the marriage is legit.”

  Which required, you know, defrauding the government. Which was illegal.

  “No, it is not for that reason.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Damn. That would have solved that puzzle. So then why? “Can I ask why it had to be a woman?”

  “There were a few reasons, but I prefer women, so it worked.”

  A few reasons beyond preferring women? This mystery was not getting any closer to being solved.

  “Was there a reason you didn’t disclose your gender?”

  “I simply forgot. Plus, for all intents and purposes, it didn’t really matter. Did you think I was a man?”

  Hayden shrugged. “I’m pansexual, so it didn’t really bother me either way. And, well, it would all be fake, so like you said, it didn’t really matter.”

  Had it been Hayden’s imagination, or had Thomson flinched at the word “pansexual” and flicked her gaze around the other tables? Why would a lesbian, or however Thomson identified, care if someone heard that word?

  “Well, that works for both of us, then,” Thomson said.

  And so it did.

  “So you really want to do this?” Hayden asked.

  “Do you think I put that ad out on a whim?”

  God, she was so pompous.

  “I don’t know. You looked almost surprised that it was someone from work. Maybe you don’t want to do it.”

  “I was surprised. I really did think that ad was a sure way to avoid anyone I knew. But it does add a certain…authenticity to it.”

  Hayden straightened up in her chair, a thought occurring to her. “Plus, you would be worried that, unless I was involved, I would tell everyone what you were doing.”

  Thomson
’s eyes narrowed, just slightly. “That did occur to me, yes.”

  “As much fun as it would be, I wouldn’t do that. If you decide I’m not appropriate, I won’t breathe a word.”

  And why did Hayden keep speaking like this was something she was considering? Marriage had zero importance to her, but surely to marry someone with the intent of divorcing them pretty quickly wasn’t the best idea.

  Though it was only a piece of paper.

  And money.

  “That is good to know.” Thomson sat back in her chair, but somehow managed to remain looking as composed as ever and not like a rebellious and sulky teenager. “We should discuss what it would entail, and once we’re through, perhaps you should take some time and think about it.”

  “Okay.”

  Thomson nodded once. “Good. I would require the marriage to continue for a year, perhaps more, should things get complicated. But I do not foresee that happening. I do not require the wedding—” Hayden’s stomach turned over at the word “—to be big nor public. An appointment at the courthouse would be sufficient. However…” Thomson actually hesitated, and Hayden almost felt her mouth drop open. “I do require that we wait a month and do be seen in public together a few times. And that we live together for that year. I have a large apartment with a spare room.”

  If not for a green card, why would she need to appear married? And a month was actually a short time to convince people it was legitimate. Hayden took a long sip of her latte. She really was going to have to think about this. Most of this could probably be kept from her family; they were in separate states, after all, as her sister liked to point out fairly bitterly. But her colleagues would all have to know. If they had to at least seem like a couple on the outside, there would be no hiding it from them.

  Luce was going to pee themself laughing.

  “So, what about at work?”

  Thomson actually paled, though her expression didn’t change. “We don’t have to be exceptionally public. But as we both work there, I would need them to think it was real. This was an added bonus to not having the person be someone I work with. I could have kept work and my private life separate. I have no friends at work to complicate the issue.”

  No friends at work? Really? But she was so warm.