Page 4 of The Fake Play

I shake off the thought and return my focus to No, or Kenneth, or whatever the fuck her name is. She’s nose deep in her book again. Not gonna work.

“Hey, Kenneth, how about that dance?”

“You really don't take a hint, do you?”

“Never.”

“Maybe this will make it clearer.” She lifts her mug up high and slowly pours it over my head. It wouldn’t be so bad in any other bar, but Smokey’s is known for their frosty cold brews, and this one is no exception. I can’t hear the guys laughter over the din of the bar but I’m sure it’s there. Hell, I'd laugh.

Icy rivulets trickle down from my hair as I stand there, formulating a response. “That was thoughtful of you.”

A line forms in the middle of her brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I am the hottest guy in here so… that helped cool me off.”

She laughs but there’s no humor in it. “I'm not interested in you, Luke. You’re dismissed.”

There is a look on a woman's face when she lies to a man about her interest. It's almost a cross between a secretive expression and something seductive. Kenneth’s perfect face slid into that look as I stood there, dripping beer.

“When I see you again, I'm getting that kiss.”

She laughs for real this time. “Liar.”

I lean close enough to drip beer on her. “I'm not the one pretending to not be interested right now, therefore, I'm not the liar here. See you around, Kenny.”

“Kenneth. Not Kenny.”

“Whatever you say, Kenny.” I stroll away, beer dripping on the floor with every step. The guys are in hysterical laughter as I reach my table but it’s fine.

I’m gonna get that kiss.

I just need more time.

Chapter 2

Keke

The drive to Michael's office always seems to be too long and too short at the same time.

I've been there before but driving in downtown Atlanta is always frustrating. I hate it—too much traffic and too many stoplights—but he has a job for me, and I’m going to take it.

I have to.

It’s not like I have any other options.

Therefore, battling the Atlanta traffic is something I just have to deal with.

After crashing and burning the other two jobs he set up for me, I have to kill this one. There are only so many chances my big brother can give me.

The steel and glass building towers over me as I walk into the lobby. It’s shiny inside, chrome and marble in every direction. Michael's office is on the top floor, which means I have a full minute’s ride to contemplate what I’m going to say when I get there.

The truth is, I have no game plan. He pulled some strings to get me in with Whitney Dobson, my hero.

What do you say to someone who ran a presidential campaign?

How she went from a presidential campaign to doing PR for a professional hockey team, I still don’t quite understand. But she’s a legend in public relations. I’m not about to call into question her history when mine is so spotty.

Cindi, Michael's executive assistant, looks up and nods in acknowledgement as I approach. She’s pretty and blond and a little older than me. Although she’s on the phone, I notice a little curl in her lip when she sees me.

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