Page 10 of Fake You

I briefly considered headbutting him, but again the issue was that I was too far away. He was easily as tall as he was broad, and there was no way I could reach. Instead I did the only thing I had recourse to do. I hawked up a mouthful of saliva, and spat in his face. It was gross and definitely not my finest hour, but, desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was definitely desperate not to be choked to death at the hands of a psycho.

Just as I thought he would, he dropped me like a hot potato, his face contorting in revulsion. Not that I blamed him, it really was the ultimate gross act. He pulled back sharply, wiping his face in disgust, and looking at me as though he now really wanted to kill me. I hesitated only as long as it took to gulp in a few much-needed breaths—almost choking on the air I’d been so starved of a few moments earlier—before lunging toward the door.

He recovered quickly obviously forgetting how grossed out he was, foregoing wiping his face completely clean, in favor of lurching at me as I attempted to make my escape.

Just as I thought I was free and clear, he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me hard into his body. I slammed into him with a loud ‘oof,’ not missing the bulge of his erection in his pants as I rebounded against it. What the actual fuck? Who was this guy, and what the hell did he want with me?

“Let me go. Or I’ll open my mouth and scream at the top of my lungs until every geriatric in that restaurant hears me and comes running.” Or as near to running as they could muster, given that most of them needed walkers, sticks, or motorized scooters to get anywhere.

“Go right ahead Kevin, why don’t you have everyone come in here, then you can explain how the guy they think they employed is actually a goddamned girl. How do you suppose they’ll react to knowing that you’re a fraudster? Actually, how do you think the police and the IRS would react? I’m sure they’d be very interested to talk to you. And maybe you’ll be okay in jail. I mean, you’re already playing the dude, so that would probably be your role, in the joint too, right? You’ve even got the dude swag, and faux deep voice. It’s all kind of sexy. I’m sure the ladies will love it. Actually, it’s making me hot, thinking about you getting your Orange Is the New Black on.” He sneered maniacally.

He was fucking insane. He had to be.

“Or, you can go the fuck away, crawl back into whatever little cesspit you came out of, and leave us the fuck alone, especially my grandfather. What even is your play there? If you think that he’s about to leave you money in his will, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Not only does he have nothing to give, but he already has a grandson and granddaughter, if there was anything, it would be going to us.”

“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you are, what you want with me, or what you think I’m doing, but trust me, you have it wrong. And as for me staying away from your family, from where I’m standing, you’re the one trailing me at my jobs, not the other way around. So you need to back away, or I’ll take my chances with being rumbled.”

Just as I finished speaking, the door to the staffroom started to open. Thinking on my feet, I grabbed Drew’s neck and crashed my lips to his. He had his back to the door, so he didn’t see it open. I used that fact to my advantage and kept pressing until he yielded to me. It didn’t take long before he was in the game—jamming his shapely lips against mine, then forcing his tongue inside my mouth. Interesting. As he kissed me back hard, he thrust his swollen dick against me and moved his arms to my waist.

“Oh, Kevin, and umm… I’m sorry. I’m umm… Sorry. I’ll come back later.”

It had been Richard, my supervisor, and though I was probably about to get a telling off for fraternizing with the guests, I figured it was better for him to think that Psycho Boy and I were a thing, than for me to try to explain, or worse still, have Drew explain, why he was in the staff-only area with me.

“Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He slammed the heel of his palm against the wall, anger buzzing from every pore, his whole body a tightly coiled mass of muscles and tension. He paced the room like a rabid animal, as though he was looking for something to tear to pieces. Unfortunately, I was the most likely candidate, so I needed to do something to ensure that it wasn’t me he ripped limb from limb.

“So, he thinks you’re gay. What’s the big deal? After your grandfather’s little stunt earlier, everyone does anyway. Would you rather he thinks you’re a paranoid schizophrenic when you try to explain that one of his male employees is in fact female? It may seem logical to you, because you’ve seen the proof, but it would make you sound cuckoo for cocoa puffs. Even more so now that you and I, are apparently in a relationship, or at least having some kind of ‘thing.’” Hole. In. One.

“Motherfucker!” He continued pacing, pulling at his thick dark hair from the roots, clearly trying to work out his next move. I was doing the same, but seemingly a lot more calmly. But then again, I’d already won this round—it was way preferable for everyone to think I was a gay dude, than a woman—so I had good reason to be a little more chilled.

Drew stopped pacing abruptly, turning to me sharply, clearly having decided his next step. “What’s your interest in my family?”

“I have no interest. In fact, until we walked in here, and your grandfather introduced us, I had no fucking idea who you were, and other than the fact that you’re Ernie’s grandson, I still don’t really. That cryptic shit you said to me yesterday made no sense, then here you are the next day accusing me of trying to write myself into your grandfather’s will. I should just call the police and tell them you’re a deluded stalker, which doesn’t seem to be too far from the truth.”

“Oh really? We both know you’re not about to call the cops, because then you’d have to explain that you obtained a job by deception, and that as well as committing tax and identity fraud, you’re obviously some kind of confidence trickster. In case you’re unaware, these things are felonies—you’re looking at some serious orange jumpsuit time.”

By now I was pacing the room myself. I was increasingly coming to the conclusion that this guy genuinely was deluded and potentially dangerous.

“What are you talking about confidence trickster? So I lied about the fact that I pee sitting down, in order to score a gig in an exclusive men-only country club, because it pays three times what I’d make anywhere else, and comes with insurance. Last I looked, that doesn’t make me a confidence trickster.”

“No, but worming your way into a lonely old man’s life to get access to his money, and dating women who probably have no idea you’re not a dude, does.”

“For the love of God. I told you before, I’m not trying to get anything from your grandfather. And for your information, he approached me for the job. I’d been working here for a little while, and he needed a caddy, so I caddied for him, then he told me he was looking for help a few days a week, and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” I didn’t really know why I was explaining myself to him, but I guess it was preferable to having my neck snapped in half, or whatever he had in mind.

As for the ‘dates’, that’s not how it is. Your grandfather has no idea how the whole thing works, but basically, they pay me either for my company, or so they have a hot-looking plus-one for events, and shit. Nothing romantic. It’s purely transactional. That’s it.”

“So you’re a hooker?”

“What? Where did you get that from anything I just said?”

“The part where you revealed that women pay to date you.”

“Did you miss the part where I said we’re not dating? And obviously there’s no sex, so no, not a hooker. If you want to call it anything, escort is probably the word you’re looking for.”

“No it’s not. I call a spade a spade—or in this case, a hoe, a hoe. Just because you’re not sleeping with them, doesn’t mean you’re not a gigolo.”

“Well, as nice as hanging around here chatting with you has been, I also call it none of your damned business. Now, I have a job to do, so if you’ll excuse me.” I made to walk toward the door again, and again he grabbed me by the wrist.

“Not so fast. You can go if and when I say so, and not a moment before. And as for the job, you’re done here. No need to resign, just disappear, stay out of my relatives’ lives, and I’ll let you escape jail.”

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