Page 14 of Boyfriend Maintenance

I drop his hand and move to sit back down on the couch. I glance at my phone and see a text from Levi asking why Craig thinks I have a boyfriend. Wow shit travels fast. I ignore him for now.

“So, I’ll need dates and times. I’ve got a lot of personal time banked up, plus just about everybody on the team owes me more than one favor. But as much notice as possible would be best.”

I gesture to the lounge chair next to me. He sits. Finally, he isn’t acting like such a tool.

“Yeah, I have all the dates already. The engagement party is first up, it’s next week, actually.” I brace myself as I know it’s short notice, but Jake doesn’t react. “Then a couple weeks later, the shower, it’s a couples thing. But then we have a little break before the rehearsal and wedding. If you give me your number, I can text all this info to you. Or I can create a calendar invite.”

“An invite works. I’ll still give you my number though. So, this wedding, are you in it? Like, am I going to have to fend for myself at all?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, more like he wants to be able to prepare for any scenario.

I snort. Ladylike, I know. “Oh, no. I didn’t make the cut. My sister-in-law to-be and I do not get along.”

He eyes me.

“Isn’t it normal for siblings to be part of the wedding party?”

I smile, he’s not wrong.

“No, you’re right but … well, Darcy, she doesn’t really care about tradition. While I love my brother dearly, he just does what she says.” I don’t share with Jake that Levi and I had a long talk about it after Darcy announced her wedding party. Levi wanted to make sure I was okay with it but also thought maybe it was letting me off the hook since I didn’t want to be part of that life anymore. While I’m sad I don’t get to be a true part of his big day, I appreciate his reasoning. And I will try to enjoy it like everyone else. Plus, I can’t stand Darcy, if he were marrying someone I actually liked, I’d feel differently for sure.

“So, I need clothes. I’ll take your lead on what I’m expected to wear to these things. When do you want to take care of that?”

“Are you free Saturday? I’ve got all day open, so we can work around your schedule,” I offer.

“I have to clock in at three, so how about that morning? Where will we be shopping? Barneys? Bloomingdale's? Saks?”

I try not to cringe at the thought of the cost per outfit at those stores. I do almost all my shopping at Century 21, a discounted name-brand store. I haven’t shopped with a personal stylist since college. I don’t know why I feel compelled to keep Jake thinking I’m some high-society princess. So, I bite the bullet.

“We can meet up at Bloomingdale's. Ten sharp, men’s department.” A wave of disgust washes over me due to my lie of omission. So, I stand. It’s time for him to leave. He takes the hint and stands as well.

“I’ve got one more question. Why does someone like you need a fake boyfriend anyway?”

I bristle at the comment. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

He looks me up and down and moves his hand along with the perusal. “You, you’re young and attractive, you seem put together.”

I relax at his assessment.

“Plus, isn’t there some kind of rich fuck dating pool? Silver spoons stick together, right?”

Now I want to throat punch him. I straighten my shoulders, holding my head up high when I reply.

“It’s none of your business. We’ve all got issues and I would appreciate it if you’d be a little less judgy. I’m not judging you about why you so badly need fifteen grand, so maybe you could show the same respect toward me.”

His eyebrows lift as he nods. “Fair enough, I’ll keep the judging to a minimum, or at least to myself.”

I roll my eyes and show him to the door. It isn’t until he’s long gone that I realize I never got his number. That’s fine. I’ll get it Saturday after I sell an arm and a leg to cover his new clothes.

Chapter 8

Jake

Standingoutside the massive building that is Bloomingdale’s, I have to take a few breaths before I go in. Never in my life did I ever expect to step foot in this department store. Seeing it portrayed enough through movies and TV, I know I’m not part of the clientele they cater to. No, I’m sure I couldn’t even afford a simple pocket square. Ripping the Band-Aid off, I head inside.

Finding the men's department is easy enough. Scanning the area for Emmy, I loiter as close to the elevators as I can when I realize she isn’t here yet. I gently run my thumb and forefinger over the lapel of a dark gray blazer. The buttery-soft fabric is a definite selling point. If I were a businessman, I’d buy several. I slide my hand up and over the shoulder and down the sleeve of the blazer where I find the price tag. Flipping it over in my hand I try not to let my jaw fall to the floor when I see it’s nearly six hundred dollars. I drop the sleeve like a hot potato and take a step away from the rack.

Shit, rich people clothes are expensive. If just a blazer costs that much money, how much will an entire outfit cost? A slight, very tiny spark of guilt pricks at me when I realize I requested Emmy buy me enough outfits to cover all four dates. What’s she going to spend here today? Two grand at least? But the feeling flees as soon as I remember that two grand for a few outfits is nothing for her.

“Jake! Hey, sorry I’m late.” Emmy walks up and stands next to me.

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