Duping Cupid (A Valentine's Day Short Story)

Duping Cupid

(A Valentine’s Day Short Story)

By

Gina
Ardito

The following is a work of fiction. All characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Victoria Ardito

All Rights Reserved.
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the electronic sharing of any part of this book without the express permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of intellectual property.

Dedication

For Leslie and Brandon Dennis, a couple who know the beauty and joy of true love. Thank you for including me among your friends. I am honored and grateful to know you both.

Chapter 1

“I need a man. Now.”

Vivi
Maxwell glanced up from her computer to casually observe the woman standing at her receptionist’s desk. The speaker was probably in her mid-forties, well put-together, in a sleek cream-colored blouse and charcoal gray slacks. Vivi had seen a similar ensemble in the Michael Kors outlet store retailing for about six hundred bucks. This one wasn’t the cheap knock-off for the masses, though. This was the real deal, tailored to fit her rail-thin body with enhanced boobs. Golden highlights in the woman’s platinum blond hair gleamed to her shoulders in a sleek updated pageboy. She’d tossed her silver fox wrap—real—over her folded arm with a carelessness that only the truly wealthy could pull off with aplomb.

As the founder and boss of
Cupid To Go, Vivi had become an expert at reading people. From the tapping of her Kate Spades to the way she twisted the sapphire and diamond cocktail ring on her perfectly manicured finger, every gesture from the newcomer screamed desperation.
Expensive
desperation. Recognition tickled Vivi’s memory. She’d seen this woman somewhere before. Then again, since she scoured the society pages of New York’s newspapers, most of these spoiled, wealthy, walking cadavers looked familiar. She never knew when one might wind up needing her services. Like today.

Jumping to her feet,
she headed for the doorway between her office and the lobby. This potential goldmine required the utmost in personal attention. “Why don’t you step into my office where we can talk privately?”

The woman, slender as a celery stalk and looking just as
snappable, scanned Vivi up and down with a jaundiced eye. “Are you Cupid?”

“I guess you could say that.”
Vivi smiled. She’d been nervous about appearing in the television spots for her unusual dating service, but the ad company thought putting a face to “Cupid” would resonate with potential customers. Now, everyone—from the other tenants in her apartment building to the owner of the bodega down the street—referred to her as Cupid. Her face became a walking advertisement—the best investment she’d made in the company so far. She offered her hand to the woman. “Otherwise known as Vivi Maxwell. And you are...?”

The woman ignored the outstretched hand.
“Expecting one hundred percent discretion from you and every member of your staff.” Shooting a sharp look at Sarah, she glided past the receptionist’s desk and sailed straight into Vivi’s office.

“Of course,” she replied
. “Sarah, why don’t you take your lunch break?”

Sarah peered at her over the black frames of her
square eyeglasses, doubt in her furrowed brow. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”
The potential client wanted confidentiality, and she would do everything in her power to put her at ease. While Sarah grabbed her purse from her desk drawer, Vivi returned to her office. Once inside, she closed the door and took a good, long breath before gaining her leather seat behind her walnut partner’s desk. She indicated the padded wooden chair across from her. “Have a seat.”

The woman assessed the chair with
a glare of disgust before replying, “No, thank you. I’ll stand.”

Fine.
If the furnishings didn’t suit the ice princess, she could stay on her sky-high heels ‘til her calves cramped. “All right then. Tell me what brought you to Cupid To Go.”

“My ex-husband.”
The caustic bitterness in those words scalded the walls around them. “Twenty years of marriage and he comes home two weeks ago to tell me he’s leaving me for his
executive assistant
.” Sneering, she curled her fingers around the last two words in air quotes. “She can have him. For the last five years, he couldn’t get romantic without help from his other executive assistant, Viagra.”

If
Vivi had a dime for every time she’d heard this story, she’d be the one with the genuine tailored Michael Kors slacks and Kate Spade shoes. Still, she reacted with appropriate wide-eyed shock and a sympathetic nod, which victims of infidelity always required. Clasping her hands on the desktop, she went into business mode. “Am I right in assuming you are now forced to attend some holiday soiree where he’ll also be in attendance and you need a drop-dead gorgeous guy on your arm for the event?”

“No.”

Vivi blinked. She didn’t usually read her clients wrong. “No?”

“I need someone for the entire winter season.
From now until the end of March. I have a full calendar of holiday events and social engagements where I can’t be seen unescorted. And I have a very specific type of man in mind.”

“I’m sure you do, but a f
our-and-a-half-month stint is highly unusual in our business.” In fact, that extended period of time was pretty impossible. Oh, she’d find someone, but the pool from which she’d choose prospective dates narrowed considerably due to time constraints, prior engagements, and other obligations.

“I’m sure it is
unusual,” the socialite shot back, “but if you can provide me with the right man and promise me one hundred percent confidentiality, I’m willing to pay extremely well for your services.”

“I can assure you, Mrs...?”
“Bannerman. Or, to be more precise, the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Bannerman.”

Vivi
nearly swallowed her tongue. Ava Featherstone Bannerman. Holy cow. Back in the early nineties, Ava Featherstone had been poised on the precipice of super model status when she met Cecil Bannerman, New York financier and a descendant of one of the country’s oldest banking families. Since “no Bannerman wife had ever worked outside the home in the last three centuries,” Cecil had insisted Ava quit the runway and decline the lucrative cosmetics contracts to become a Junior Leaguer and social climber. To the dismay of the Women’s Movement, Ava had given up her career independence for love, drifting into obscurity in no time.

Apparently, Ava now rued her choice. Go
figya.

When
Vivi didn’t speak, the woman’ s expression grew frosty. “I assume your silence indicates you recognize my name.”

She cleared
the block in her throat with a sip of tepid coffee from the mug on her desk. “Yes,” she said at last and indicated the cup. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
Cyanide?

“No, thank you. I’d rather not dally here too long, if you don’t mind. If someone should see me...” She punctuated the sentence with a delicate shiver. “
This is a public relations nightmare for me. I gave up my career for a man and now, when it’s too late for me to return to that career, he’s going to ditch me.” She paced ruts in the floor in front of the desk. “I need to save face before Cecil and his bimbo go public. A handsome man will help convince the media that I’ve found someone younger and more virile. I’d rather look like a fickle cheater than an ignorant victim.”

Understanding dawned, and
Vivi nodded. “So you want someone to provide fodder for the
paparazzi
—someone they’ll think you left Cecil for, rather than Cecil leaving you.”

“Yes. And I hope you’re up to the challenge because he can’t just be arm candy. He
has to be
credible
, meaning he should be intelligent, witty, successful in his own right, and of course appear totally devoted to me.”

As well as available for
nearly five months. While her mind scrambled to think of possibilities, her mouth went into her usual spiel. “I think we can accommodate you. Do you have a physical description in mind? Height? Hair color? Eye color? General build?”

Perching
her bony butt on the edge of the chair, Ava nodded. “Definitely over six feet. Anything shorter would look ridiculous when I’m wearing heels. Blond hair would be a nice change from Cecil. Light eyes: blue or green. Good physique, but not
too
muscular.”

While she listened
with half an ear, Vivi dove into the bookcase behind her desk and ran her fingers through the white loose-leaf binders lined up on the shelves. She found the volume she needed, pulled it out, and flipped open the cover. “As a former model, you’re familiar with portfolios, right?” At the woman’s nod, she pushed the notebook across the desk. “These are all men with light colored hair and eyes, over six feet tall. A red circle sticker on the page indicates someone who’s already reserved for the holidays. You’ll have to bypass them, I’m afraid. If no one in this book fits your criteria, we’ll widen our search a little at a time: darker hair, dark eyes, and so on. I’m sure, with a little compromising, we’ll find the perfect independent agent to fit your needs.”

She cocked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“Independent agent? That’s a fancy term for ‘gigolo,’ don’t you think?”

“Hardly.”
Fury ignited in Vivi’s nerve network, but she tamped down her temper with a series of quick deep breaths. “Our dating service is actually nothing more than another acting job for our employees. Most of our agents are actors, actresses, or models in between paying gigs. We also have several university students who work here to help pay tuition. Cupid To Go provides dates for women—and men—to steer them through an awkward social situation or to save face when backed into a corner by well-meaning matchmakers. Can’t bear the idea of going to your high school reunion because your wife’s just left you? Call Cupid To Go and arrive with a gorgeous blonde on your arm. Trying to avoid the social Siberia of the ‘singles’ table at your cousin’s wedding? Cupid To Go can provide a charming escort that will gain you the envy of all your relatives. Don’t want to celebrate your birthday alone? For a fee, Cupid To Go will create a memorable package that includes flowers sent to your job, a date who appears totally devoted to your happiness for the entire day, reservations at your favorite restaurant—”

“Yes, yes.” Ava waved her ringed hand. “I’ve seen your ads.”

“Then you understand, no matter how many months you’re hiring one of our agents to serve as your escort,
sex is not part of the deal
. We are not in the prostitution business, so if that’s what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the wrong place, Mrs. Bannerman.”