One of the Guys (19 page)

Just a few girls lingering in the halls now. We should really get to class. “Maybe she wants to make Ryan jealous or something?” I ask. Could be anyone's guess. I just don't get Shauna.

“Maybe. She is a rich mystery, but we can't discriminate.” Emma holds up her phone. “I marked her on the client list. Code name: Linen.”

I laugh. “I'm curious as to where that one will lead. I bet she's a pain in the ass to please.”

As we head down the hall, I try to imagine a girl like Shauna Hamilton in need of a false door. But Emma's right. We don't discriminate. We're lucky to be in business at all after the Carrie Sanders debacle. And Jason and Henry have been doing well. Each have completed a handful of fake dates. If we turn down Shauna, she might set out to destroy what we've got going.

As I bid Emma farewell, she blows an air kiss into oblivion. I wish I could be like that, full of ladylike poise, shaded like honey, but it doesn't matter whether I cross my ankles or not. I'm doomed to carry myself with clumsiness, a trait I inherited from my mother. Better than inheriting her love of laundry though.

I'm surprised how easily I fall back into the Winston routine. Once overwhelmed by it all, I slip through the hours without an inkling of a panic attack. Overall, the day is pleasant. That is, until Emma beckons me into the second floor bathroom after lunch.

“What is it?” I sniff at the strong lemon scent rising from the waxed tile.

“In about two seconds, Shauna Hamilton is going to walk through that door,” Emma whispers.

“Are you psychic now?” I joke. “I hope you put that on your Harvard application. Impressive.”

“Her text said to meet her here or
else
. Do you think she'll tell the faculty about the business?” Emma's voice raises an octave.

I know little about Shauna or her true motives. She's been nothing more than a minor character in my life until this point, a distraction during group sessions. Partly because of the fact that I don't want to hear more about linen-scented Ryan. Partly because she looks at me like I'm a wad of gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

What could Shauna possibly gain by outing the service to the faculty? What punishment would we endure? Is it illegal to run a legit fake-date service? Could I be sentenced to jail? Would this ruin Emma's chances of getting into Harvard? Would this ruin my future? Would Loch get in trouble? Would we have to return the money we've made?

For a few seconds, I see everything crumble.

My new friendship with Emma.

My old friendship with Loch.

My time with the guys.

My future.

My freedom.

My life.

The bathroom door swings open. Emma presses her lips together as Shauna strolls in, a folded envelope dangling from her right hand.

“Good afternoon,” she says, plastering on a fake smile. I've never noticed before, but she has a pair of those “invisible” braces on her bottom teeth.

“This isn't how this works.” I gather up some courage. “You can't just—”

Shauna slams the envelope down on the sparkling sink and says, “I want this guy.”

I glance at the envelope. Purdue University. Loch. She wants Loch. Anger bubbles in my chest. He's not for her. Real or not.

“Purdue is a good school.” I grind my teeth. “They have an excellent engineering program.”

“I know about your service.” Shauna folds her arms over her chest. “Everyone does. Don't play games.”

I shrug. “Who's playing?”

Shauna stares me down so hard it's like she's trying to stop my heart with her mind. I sigh and check each stall for spies. Emma kicks in the doors with her heels to double-check and then stands guard by the door, nervously checking her phone.

I speak slowly. “Think of my service like Fight Club, Hamilton. First rule: don't talk about it. Especially on school grounds.”

“What's Fight Club?” she scoffs. Her teeth, I notice, are slightly yellowed.

“Well, I could show you.” I roll up the sleeves of my navy sweater, but Emma throws me a warning look. So I compose myself.

“This is an emergency,” Shauna says, her voice rising. “I don't have time to play your games.”

“Why should I make an exception for you?” I ask, beyond annoyed.

Shauna tightens her jaw and scratches her elbow. Her words come out flaked, uncertain. “Do you know who my father is? He's the top attorney in the state. If I tell him that you, Toni Valentine, are running an escort service for Winston girls, he'll have you thrown in jail for a super-long time. Don't mess with me.”

Wow
. The nerve of this girl. Emma gasps and watches me, waiting for my reaction. Here we are. Our fears manifested under the blossoming lights of a pristine lemon-scented bathroom.

“I don't respond well to threats.” I fake-smile. My face is starting to hurt.

Shauna tosses her red curls. “I'll pay extra. I can't make it through the rest of the day without this settled. I need to know that I've booked my rental for next weekend.”

I look to Emma, who shrugs and rubs her fingers together to indicate money, money, money. I would very much like to turn Shauna Hamilton away, but I'll hear her out. I'm reasonable.

“Keep your voice low. And speak of this to no one, understand? I don't need everyone thinking I'm prone to exceptions.”

Shauna sighs with relief and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Ryan, my boyfriend, promised that he would come to my family's annual skiing trip, but now he can't. He bailed. Something about his dad having surgery or something. I need a boy there. Desperately.”

I'm almost rendered speechless. “Is his dad okay?”

Shauna gives me a strange look. “Oh, he's fine. It's a routine procedure or whatever. No big deal. Can you provide the Purdue guy for the weekend or not?”

“The service only provides platonic dates,” I say.

Footsteps outside. We all shut up. When the footsteps fade, Emma opens the door and peers outside. After a moment, she closes the door and gives a thumbs-up. All clear. Still, we better hurry this up.

“Like I need to pay for real romance,” Shauna whispers, rolling her eyes. “We go skiing every year with the Mayhews, a vile family I've been forced to interact with all my life because my mom happened to be in the same sorority as Mrs. Mayhew. Ben, the Mayhew son, is completely obsessed with me. If I don't have a guy there, even a guy just pretending to be my boyfriend, he will not leave me alone for more than two seconds. He's relentless and pathetic and annoying. It will be hell without someone there to discourage his advances. I need a shield.”

I ask, “For the entire weekend?”

“Saturday through Sunday. One night. Name your price,” she adds. Her voice is panicky.

“We've never booked an overnight engagement before.” Emma types on her phone, taking notes.

“Skiing.” I rub my chin with my index finger. “You'll want Yale. Our Yale guy is an impressive snowboarder.”

Shauna roughly points at the Purdue envelope. “No, I want this guy. He's the cutest.”

I pick at my thumb. “I just don't know if he's the best choice here…”

“I'll pay anything.” Shauna's voice grows louder. “I need the cutest guy possible.”

Anything? She'll pay anything?
The first year's tuition at UVM for Loch perhaps? But Ollie's clearly the better choice for this date. How can I convince Shauna? She wants what she wants. I need to discuss this with Emma. Alone.

“Leave your number with Emma,” I say. “We'll be in touch. In the meantime, it's best not to talk to me. We don't want the faculty growing suspicious.”

Plus, I don't enjoy conversing with you. At all
.

Shauna blurts out, “I'll give you two thousand dollars.”

Now I
am
rendered speechless. Did she say
thousand
? Emma's blue eyes widen with joy. Discussion over. I clap my hands and rub them together and say, “Consider it done then.”

I realize my mistake as I'm driving home. Before agreeing to the weekend date, I should've checked with Loch. He's scheduled to work next Saturday. Crap.

Ten minutes from home, I give Loch a call and decide to butter him up before presenting the job. He hates calling in sick, but maybe two
thousand
bucks could persuade him.

He answers on the second ring with a muffled hello.

“Hey,” I say. My mood immediately lifts knowing he's on the other end of the line. “You. Me. Monster movie tonight?”

“Sounds like you've had the kind of day I've had,” he replies, sighing so deeply into the phone I can practically smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. “My turn to pick the movie.”

“Like you'd ever let me forget.”

I smile all the way home.

First I stop by my house to grab a Mountain Dew from the fridge and sputter a quick hello to Brian (hey, I'm trying here). Outside, a light snow cakes the tips of dead grass with white. When I slip through the Garrys' basement window, Loch is already waiting for me on the couch, dressed in a hoodie and oversized sweatpants. He grins. Just looking at him makes me all comfy.

About halfway through
King Kong
, I present Shauna's request, minus her threat to send me to jail (minor detail). I lead in with the money. At first, Loch looks excited, but when I finally take a breath and let him respond, he says, “Hell, no.”

“Perhaps you didn't hear me,” I say, moving my feet underneath me. “Two. Thousand. Bucks.”

Loch scratches his stubble. If it's always itching him, I wonder why he doesn't just shave. Probably for the same reason I would sometimes go a week or two without shaving my legs. Before I had to wear a skirt everyday, that is. Laziness.

“There's clearly something wrong with someone who can spare that kind of money for a fake boyfriend,” he says. “What's wrong with her? Is she a serial killer or something?”

I think a moment. It's a reasonable question. I shake my head. “You should see her nails. One can't be a serial killer with a perfect manicure all the time.”

Loch stretches and yawns, the couch cushion lowering under his weight, pushing him closer to me. A creamy darkness sifts through the basement window. The lights are off, and the flickering images of the television fall over us. We watch the movie for a bit.

“I hate this part,” I say, fidgeting with my socks. The characters onscreen chain up King Kong. It's so sad, the way they take him away from everything's he ever known. I bury my face in the warmth of Loch's shoulder, breathing in the cotton-y scent of his sweatshirt. “You know this movie makes me cry, Loch.”

“You look extra-nice today,” Loch whispers. The TV goes silent. “I like your hair. It smells like citrus.”

For a moment, I close my eyes and allow those words to warm me.
You smell like vanilla and it's the most delicious, wonderful smell ever
. Then I remember myself and squirm and move away from the comfort of his shoulder. As I sit up, my cheek brushes against his stubble. I swear my body temperature rises another degree or two. I scoot to the other end of the couch and clear my throat, unsure what the heck just happened there.

“No changing the subject,” I say with a forced chuckle.

Loch shifts like a cat trying to find the perfect resting spot. “I will do this job on one condition,” he says.

Politely, I cross my legs, hoping this makes me feel more business-y. Because this is business. “Name it.”

He responds with a symmetrical smile. Suddenly it feels like I'm about to be pulled into something I won't be able to climb out of.

nineteen

L
OCH'S ONE CONDITION IS THE
reason why I'm lugging Shauna Hamilton's suitcase from her parents' giant SUV among snow-crusted woods and towering mountains. My modest duffel bag rests somewhere beneath Shauna's designer luggage, which is probably worth more than all of my possessions combined. I almost drop it, but a pair of hands reach from behind to grab the handle.