Page 2 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

Silly, I know, but we’d been teenagers. And sisters. Identical ones, at that. We were petty, catty, and just stupid. Amazingly, over ten years later, Veronica had still held a grudge over that specific incident. So had Jack. In the end, long-lost love became full-time romance, but she and I were still dealing with the repercussions. Fragile feelings, bruised egos; thus my temporary role as Goldie's newest employee. The more tasks on Goldie's employee orientation I tackled however, I was closer to considering my emotional debt paid in full.

I had to admit, it was aninterestingsummer job. It beat tutoring kids who'd rather be anywhere but at their kitchen table learning to read. But if I wanted to go to grad school, I needed the extra cash. Filling in for Veronica was a great way to do that. Getting a Masters in Education wasn't cheap, but the long-term career gains made it worthwhile.

Unfortunately, working at Goldilocks had some pretty serious negatives. To start, Goldie was driving me crazy. A six-year-old nose picker would be bliss in comparison to Goldie's non-stop grilling. The only way to avoid her shenanigans would be if I got myself a man. I hadn't had much luck recently on the manhunt. In fact, I'd caught more wildlife than men, although if I'd gone after the guys who seemed remotely appealing with a hunting rifle and a tranquilizer dart, I probably would have hadbetter odds. So it seemed like meddling was going to be a new constant in my life.

“Your story, it's word porn, all right.” Goldie shook her head so her gold dangly earrings tinkled. “The moment MeMe Harding finishes designing your cover, you've got to publish that sucker, and fast.”

“Publish it? Who would read that stuff anyway?” I wondered aloud as I tucked my slippery, stick-straight hair behind my ear. It was black and went halfway down my back, except when it slid into my face. Flutters of fear and excitement warred at the very idea. I couldn’t imagine...a book of mine published! Icouldimagine the uproar it would cause—a very naughty book from a first grade teacher living in a small, conservative town. I still remembered the humor, at my expense, when I’d told my high school English teacher I'd wanted to be a romance writer. Looking back, he was a complete jerk for killing a teenager's self-confidence like that. Then humiliation once again; in college with my then-boyfriend, Todd. He'd been stunned by my lewd—his word—mind and quickly dumped me. I'd only written something now because of Goldie. Goldie was my excuse, the perfect cover for my nefarious word porn writing.

Goldie dipped her head and looked at me over the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She had a bedazzled chain attached to them that hung about her neck. “Young lady, are you forgetting where you are?”

I looked around the adult store filled with blow-up dolls, slutty lingerie, toys, videos, gag gifts. “Right. My view of the world is shifting from the ABCs to XXX.”

Another very grumpy downside to the job, coincidentally, walked through the door. I inwardly cringed and outwardly sighed. Olive Perlnutter, elementary school librarian, morality police in her spare time. She was five feet tall in heels, gray hairlike a helmet covered her head, and she wore a sour expression as if she was sucking on a lemon.

Not my favorite person in the world and a perfect example of why I couldn't let my interest in writing erotic stories become public knowledge. If I could slink behind the display of bachelorette party items, I would, but she'd already seen me. It was a small store, so Goldie and I were hard to miss. I wore cargo shorts and a white T-shirt and tried to blend in a little more than my boss, although Goldie would be great to take hunting because no one could mistake her for the wildlife.

“Violet Miller,” Olive said. I swore I heard atsk tsksound follow. It may have been her support hose as she walked, but I was unsure. “Is this a place for one of our children's role models?”

I stared blankly at her as if she was insane—which she was—and said, “I'm Veronica.” My sister and I were always being mixed up, ever since...birth. It was time to use it to my advantage. I rarely pulled a switcheroo, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Olive gave me the once-over, obviously unconvinced.

“What can I get for you, Olive?” Goldie, who cautiously watched us both, asked. She could always size up a situation, and I hoped she'd figure this one out quickly. It was true, working in an adult store as a summer job might not be the best thing for an elementary school teacher, but it wasn't as if I were selling product to six-year-olds. Their parents maybe, but that was all. Goldie ruthlessly drew the line at selling any adult product to kids. She gave free condoms to some, but they had to survive Goldie's sex talk first. And I doubted after that lovely discussion, any kid would have sex until they were forty.

Olive stood there eyeing me, pocketbook clenched against her chest as if Goldie or I were going to yank it from her.

“Veronica,” Goldie said, thankfully reinforcing my sister-switch. “Why don't you get the movies from the drop box for me while I help Olive?”

Thrilled to be away from the crabby librarian, I dug out the videos that had been dropped off the previous night from the corner drop box by the window. Olive had moved close to Goldie and they were having a littletête-á-tête. Goldie wasn't giving much away, but it was clear, even at twenty feet that Olive was in her element, either imparting the latest gossip or singeing someone's reputation.

“...and to influence children like that.”

I caught the tail end of their conversation. My face heated, knowing Olive's latest tirade was about me. Maybe this job wasn't such a good idea after all. It could easily impact the next school year. What if I did publish that book? Olive would have fodder to use against me.

Goldie lifted her head—she'd had to lean down to match the curmudgeon's petite stature—and pursed her lips, identical to Olive.

I piled the videos on the counter and idly fiddled with them, pretending to alphabetize the stack.

“Olive Perlnutter,” Goldie scolded. “If this girl over here”—she pointed at me—“really was Violet, her working in this store wouldn't impact her ability to teach children any more than you and Ralph watching girl-on-girl videos will impact the same children checking out books from the elementary school library.”

I thought Olive would stroke out right there, her face got so red. I tried to hide a smirk of satisfaction as Goldie put the old bat in her place, while at the same time I tried to erase the image of Olive and her husband watching girl-on-girl action. I vomited a little in my mouth at the visual.

“Well,” Olive said, turning on her heel and stomping out of the store.

Goldie shrugged her shoulders. “Huh. I guess she'll be back later for her movie.”

2

The next evening, I was back working alongside Goldie and her daughter-in-law, Jane. It was Saturday night and the store was busy. I manned the cash register while Goldie gave her usual sex education talk to a seventeen-year-old who'd tried to slip past the fact that Goldie knew everyone—and everyone's kids. And grandkids. The poor boy had wanted to get a video to watch with his friends. Instead, he got a lecture on safe sex, how to please a woman and the realities of porn. Why he hadn’t gone online, I had no idea.

Jane, a few years older than I, had one dead husband, two cute boys and was engaged to a firefighter hottie. She was taller than me. She was blonder than me. Her boobs were bigger. Plus, the extremely hot fiancé. You'd think I would hate her just on principle, but it was hard when she was so dang nice. We’d rung up back-to-back video rentals and some minor toy sales when a woman, mid-thirties, plonked an industrial-sized jug of Lube-U-Up on the counter.

“Hey, Rhonda, how are you?” Jane asked, staring at the mega container in front of her. It was a size you purchased at Costco or if you worked in the porn industry.

Jane had worked for Goldie even longer than Veronica—and was her daughter-in-law—so she was runner-up only to Goldie in knowing people. And she hadn't even grown up in Bozeman.

“Hi, Jane. Saw your boys at the pool yesterday with your fiancé. I have to admit Ty's one handsome man.”

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