Page 8 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

I scroll through a few of them onhis phone.

“Romance novels, huh?” Layton mock sways long hair that he doesn’t have. “Like Fabio riding a horse at sunset?”

Cheetah lets out a loud laugh. “Fabio is, like, eighty now. Maybe forty years ago. But sort of. He was a fantasy to women, and now these authors want to teach you how to become a fantasy man. They’re calling it a man training academy.” In a female voice, he breathes, “You, too, can be as sexy as the famous Layton Lancaster. If you have a square chin and take lessons from us, women will beg to sit on your face like they do for Layton.”

Tanner and Layton are doubled over in laughter. I nod toward Cheetah’s phone. “Let’s see the video.”

He turns his phone and presses the button. It is, in fact, four drunk women growling at and spanking each other. They keep calling one another good girls and then giggling uncontrollably.

They’re in pajamas, holding drinks. He’s right that they’re all attractive, but it’s the brunette with big green eyes and full lips in the dark pink, silk pajamas who catches my eye. Her hair is up in a bun, but pieces fall on her gorgeous face. Even in the loose pajamas, I can see she’s got a great body. She’s effortlessly sexy as hell. Everything she does and every giggle she makes has my heart beating faster.

I point at her. “What’s her name? She’s fucking beautiful.”

I can’t stop staring at her. Every move she makes seems so unintentionally erotic, from licking her lips to moving pieces of her hair off her face. My mouth is watering.

Cheetah shrugs. “I only know her pen name, not her real name. It’s Tami Maida.”

I can’t help but smile at the pop culture reference. I look around at the guys, realizing that the name doesn’t register on their faces. This chick is clever.

He continues, “I read one of her books. It takes place in Philadelphia. All of her books do. I think that’s where she lives.”

I try to play it cool. “So…umm…what happens if you sign up for her…their service?”

Layton scoffs. “You pull nearly as much ass as I do, DePaul. Why the hell would you need this service? Chicks flock to your all-American looks and dented ass-crack chin.”

Cheetah rolls his eyes. “Lancaster, you’re a fuckwit. He’s not interested in the service. He’s interested in the sexy woman providing the service.”

Cheetah turns to Tanner and scrunches his face. “Sorry, man. We don’t need to talk about hot chicks right now.”

It’s undeniable that Fallon Montgomery is an extremely attractive woman.

Tanner bites off a piece of shrimp with nothing but a big smile on his face. “This is a great distraction for me. No need to further wallow in my misery. Let’s sign him up. This is much more fun than me talking about my divorce.”

Cheetah’s face lights up. “Alright. You good with that, DePaul?”

I pretend to consider it, even though I was already planning to do it as soon as I got home. I nonchalantly shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

He presses a few buttons and mindlessly says, “Name…Trey DeP—”

I interrupt. “Don’t use my real full name. I don’t want her to know I play ball.”

They all understand that. It’s sometimes hard for us to let people in, not knowing their intentions. That’s why we rarely find ourselves in relationships. Women are interested in our notoriety more than anything remotely substantive.

“Oooo-kay. What name?”

“What are the next few questions?”

“Where do you live and what do you do for a living?”

“Let’s work backward. Obviously, write that I live in Philly, so she has more incentive to take me on as a client. What’s a humble profession?”

He twists his lips. “Hmm. I don’t know. A teacher?”

“No, that’s too specific. She’ll ask which school and shit. Pick something else.”

Cheetah thinks for a moment. “Porn star?”

“Pass.”

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