Page 27 of Well, That Was Unexpected

Eleanor leans close to Kiki, and whispers, “Not that we can tell what’s premium quality leather. I once swapped Eighth Aunt’s handbag with a fake. She still hasn’t noticed.”

Kiki laughs. “Eleanor Roosevelt, you are such a treat. I wish you were my little sister.”

“I wish you were my big sister! Can you even imagine?”

I roll my eyes and look away from Eleanor’s smug grin. Of course Eleanor and Kiki would get along wonderfully. Unlike me and my supposed girlfriend, Sharlot, who’s chosen the farthest seat in the back and is staring out the window with an unreadable expression. I hover around Eighth Aunt’s seat, wondering if maybe this is the right time to have a quick chat with her about a few of my latest ideas for OneLiner, especially the share-your-stories function. But just as I think that, Eighth Aunt glances up at me and gives me this look that says, WTH are you doing, George Clooney? Be a good boy and sit with your fake girlfriend.

With a deep breath, I pass Eighth Aunt’s seat and go down the aisle until I’m in front of Sharlot’s seat.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” I say.

She looks around, her eyebrows rising when she sees that Kiki has chosen to sit up front, and shrugs. “I guess not.”

Oh-kay. That’s not a no, so I slide in next to her. “How’re you doing?” Did that come out weird? I still have no idea how to act around Sharlot, probably because that’s exactly what I’m doing—acting. Acting like I know and like her as my girlfriend. There is so much deception going on here that I can barely keep up with it.

“I’m okay,” she says. Then she snorts. “Well, not really. I’m kind of in shock. I’m on your private jet. That’s pretty crazy, right? I’ve never known anyone who has a private jet.”

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not my private jet, it’s my family’s private jet?”

That makes her laugh. The fist clutching my chest eases up a little.

“Also, your aunt said ‘for all our jets.’ How many private airplanes do you guys have?” Sharlot looks at me with wide eyes.

“Um. A few?” I hate talking about our wealth. It makes me feel slimy. Probably because I’ve done nothing to deserve it, and yet here I am, enjoying this privilege anyway.

Sharlot gives a mirthless laugh and then looks up the aisle, where everyone else has settled down in pairs—her mother with Eighth Aunt, Papa with Nainai, and Kiki with Eleanor. Everyone is chatting away merrily. Then there’s us.

“So—” we both say at the same time.

“You first,” she says.

“Okay. Um, I’m really sorry about what happened at the café.”

“Oh? What about it?” She looks genuinely confused.

“Um, like, I lie about us being in a long-distance relationship? And then my aunt and my grandmother appear like wraiths and Nainai tells you that you have fat ears?”

She laughs. “Okay, yeah, that was…something else. But I like your grandmother. And to be fair, I also lied to the reporter about us dating. I’m not sure why I did that aside from that I was on a real caffeine high.”

“I’m sorry about that too. I should’ve warned you about the coffee. Indonesian coffee is stupidly strong. I think it has to do with us being on an island that’s literally called Java.”

She laughs again, though it sounds a bit like a half sob. “Oh god. It was like an out-of-body experience. I swear I was just standing to one side watching myself blab all about us, and I was going, ‘What the hell are you saying? Stop talking!’ to myself. I was a mess. I’m sorry too. And now you’re saddled with me in Bali, which is probably the last thing you want. But don’t worry, okay? Your aunt has prepped us well, I think.”

I smile weakly at the memory of Eighth Aunt’s “prep,” a hellishly long day at the house, which consisted of her telling us that if we say one thing wrong, the reputation of the family company will be dragged through the mud. Afterward, Sharlot had barely said two words to me before going straight home looking utterly exhausted.

“And aside from the interviews and the launch, I’ll stay out of your hair,” Sharlot continues.

“Um.” My insides are twisting like snakes. Like…likeSnakes on a Planesnakes. But inside my stomach. I feel like a total asshole, basically. Because last week, after the insane coffee date with Sharlot, Rina immediately ran the story onAsian Wealth,and it’s blown up on all the socials.

And the family—I should start referring to my family as The Family,Godfather-style, since they’re practically a mob, except their weapon of choice is guilt instead of guns—called for a meeting about my love life. There are those—Third and Fifth Uncle and Second Aunt—who think that this is a terrible development because it’s distracting from the launch of OneLiner. But luckily, or unluckily, everyone else thinks it’s a great publicity move. Anything that gets people talking about me means they’retalking about OneLiner. Thankfully for me, Eighth Aunt has decided to keep the fact that Sharlot is my fake girlfriend from the rest of the family. If they all found out…

I shudder. Okay, don’t think about any of that now.

So here I am, sitting next to Sharlot on the plane, making small talk and trying to be nice to her, except I don’t quite know what that entails, exactly.

“I don’t want you to stay out of my hair,” I finally say. “I mean, if you want to, that’s okay and I understand. But, um…you don’t need to.” God, I feel terrible saying that, even though it’s true—I really don’t want her to feel like I don’t want her around. I mean, I don’t, but I do. Okay, so I might be losing my mind.

Her mouth trembles into a small smile. “You’re a really nice guy, you know that, George?”

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