Page 10 of Fake As Puck
“Five hundred a week,” I say, pulling a number out of thin air.
“Deal.”
“Plus expenses. Travel, clothes, whatever I need to make this convincing.”
“Done.”
“And I get my own hotel room. No sharing.”
“Obviously.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I mutter, “but when’s the first wedding?”
“Next Saturday.”
“That’s a week away!”
“I know. Is that a problem?”
I think about my empty calendar, my emptier bank account, and the fact that I just agreed to spend ten weeks pretending to be in love with someone I’ve spent most of my life trying not to think about.
“No,” I say finally. “It’s not a problem. But I want the first payment upfront.”
“I can Venmo you tonight.”
“Okay. I guess we’re doing this.”
“We’re doing this,” West repeats, and there’s something in his voice that makes my stomach do that stupid flip again.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” West says. “We should probably... plan this out.”
“Probably.”
“Okay. Good. Great. This is... good.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I can practically feel the awkwardness through the phone.
“I should go,” he says finally.
“You should.”
“Talk tomorrow?”
“Talk tomorrow.”
The call ends and I fall back onto my pillow. I just agreed to be Weston Carmack’s fake girlfriend.
What the hell?
High school me is screaming on the inside.
