Page 29 of It's Not All Fake

I know I don’t need any more, but I don’t challenge her orders. I take another sip. “Look, it is what it is. Okay? If things are messy in the end, at least I’ll have money and my business.”

“God, Chloe. How did you meet this guy? Like, was it some event or something? Someone introduced you?” Now her prying is going too far. I want off this roller coaster. I stand abruptly, almost losing my balance.

“It’s not important.” I can’t tell her he was my client.

“What do you mean? I’m your best friend. You have to tell me everything.”

“I said, it’s not important.” Avoidance never works with her, but I’m trying my damnedest. I head to the kitchen with the nearly empty popcorn bowl.

“Tell me, Chloe,” she insists, following me.

I ignore her, but she persists.

“Please, Ashley, let it go.” I turn around, wine glass and popcorn dish in hand. She stands with her hand over her mouth, eyebrows high in shock.

“Oh my God,” she hisses. “It’s that client, isn’t it? The one you had the crush on? Liam is your client!”

I am dead inside. I have nothing to say to her, no rebuttal, no excuse, only guilt. I stammer around for words, but they don’t come. My weak “no” is a solid lie that Ashley sees through right away. We stand there in the entrance to the kitchen in a staring match, me with the weight of shame on my shoulders, and her with a racing mind—I can see her measuring the implications.

“Holy fuck, girl. You can’t coach him. What the heck? Do you even understand the ethics of this?”

“Look, I am not his coach, and I never was,” I lie, but I have to, so I don’t break his confidentiality. “I’m his girlfriend—at least, that’s what the public thinks.”

“And the money? You can’t take his money, Chloe. What will happen when people find out you were his coach, then fake dated him for money? What the hell purpose could he have for a fake girlfriend anyway?”

I open my mouth to respond but the doorbell rings. “Saved by the bell” is the worst cliché, but it saves me. I thrust the popcorn bowl into Ashley’s hands and walk straight to the door. I peek through the peephole and suck in a breath.

It’s my ex—Lucas.

This is not the distraction I want, but in my buzzed state, I’ll take it.

I open the door.

“Why are you here, Lucas?” I scowl at him, projecting my frustration and shame onto him in a very unhealthy way.

He looks at me with narrowed blue eyes, his wavy blonde hair almost touching his shoulders and in need of a cut. “I’ve sent multiple emails and called you at least a dozen times. You could try answering your phone.” He pushes past me into the apartment. He looks a little bit like shit, with an unkempt beard and a stained white t-shirt on, which makes me feel secretly good.

I watch his movements, turning to face him as he paces near the dining table, but I don’t shut the door. “I don’t have to respond to you. You have everything that is rightfully yours.”

Lucas doesn't even acknowledge Ashley, who stares at us in shock, like she's witnessing a car crash. I can feel the alcohol making my head swirl. I tell all my clients that they should never have heavy conversations if they are drunk, tired, or stressed. I’m breaking every rule.

“You can’t have all those clients. I’m the only reason you built that client list, and I want what’s mine.” He stares daggers at me.

“Did you coach them? Or did I? Because I’m pretty sure I have the relationship with them, not you,” I fire back. “If they want to go to your firm, they are free to do so, but I won’t shell them out to you like we are dividing merchandise.” I point out the door. “Now get out.”

“Fine, but you owe me a payout if you’re going to keep them.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“You know what your problem is, Chloe?” He approaches me, venom dripping from his words. “You think you are better than everyone.” He walks up too close to me, getting in my face on purpose, but I hold my ground. “You think you can put on this sweet little Midwestern girl act and get whatever you want. But you’re nothing special. You’re just a pretty face in a sea of more beautiful people,” he spits. “I wouldn’t have looked twice at you if it weren’t for Michael introducing us.”

I almost break when he mentions my brother’s name. Their alliance against me is a deep wound, and he’s just ripped off the scab again.

“Lucas, you need to leave now or I’m calling the cops,” Ashley threatens him, standing nearby with her phone ready.

Lucas doesn’t even bother to acknowledge Ashley’s existence. His eyes are fixed on me. “You can’t fix your own broken past, so you try to fix other people. You’re pathetic, Chloe.”

I wince and Lucas knows his last shot was a direct hit. He sneers at me with contempt before he stomps past me, out the door. “You’re going to hear from my lawyers,” he calls over his shoulder.

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