Page 18 of Beauty and the Grease
“How was corporate playtime?”
Chase nearly spits his drink. “Tedious, as expected. Though, I got in a little face time with Cliff.”
“Ew, what was that like?”
“Unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant, but worthwhile to keep the job you hate?”
He shushes me, but he’s laughing.
It’s like we have a secret. No, wait, we do have a secret. A pretty big one.
More coworkers wander over. I play my part as his guest, adding little punches of commentary to make up our fake reunited life, all based on truth. We met again accidentally. His car is at my shop. Next weekend we’re headed to his cousin’s lake house. Totally threw that in there based on having gone there together once. I have no idea if his cousin still has the house.
“Will you be at dinner tomorrow?” Angelina asks me.
I recall telling Chase I was all in. “I think so.”
“I know it’s super weird, but the C-suite looks close at the total package.” She lowers her voice. “I’m flirting with Anvik for the weekend. He’s Linda’s favorite and moving up fast. Cliff thinks I’m a floozy, so he’ll respect me more if he sees me with Anvik.”
First of all, who calls a woman a floozy in any year post 1920? Second, is Anvik a willing partner?
Any response I have is likely unwelcome advice about not fake dating to appease toxic bosses. And yet this ruse with Chase isn’t much different. Okay, it’s the same thing, minus floozies.
For a split second, I feel bad about deceiving Angelina on why I’m here with Chase. But I don’t mind fooling thecorporate jerks who treat Chase and younger staff like Angelina as if they’re pawns on a corporate chessboard.
I catch Chase looking at me, all of me. I don’t hate it. I don’t hate a lot of what’s happening tonight, which is a problem.
When Chase and I were together, our relationship became my identity. I loved being with him, but I also loved being on his arm and gaining attention for my artwork from his family’s rich friends. I wore the pretty clothes and ate the lavish food. It wasn’t hard playing the part.
Then all that glitz and attention went away, leaving me emptier than I’d ever been. Directionless. Heartbroken.
In hindsight, I realized I never truly fit in Chase’s circle of influence. So many of them focused only on their money—how to make more of it, what they spent it on, what they refused to spend it on. They donated to charity only when they were recognized for it publicly.
I made excuses then because Chase was generous and kind and able to talk about things other than himself. But I’d lost myself.
Playing at dating Chase again, where does this lead? I have no idea. Tonight is bringing too many memories into active recall.
By the time dinner rolls around, in a dining area with two buffet lines, I’d heard enough about boats, vacation homesin Traverse City, and trips to golf resorts (why always golf?) to last me a good infinity of decades.
Chase keeps checking in to ask how I’m doing. If I need another drink or water. To his credit, he doesn’t mention Ensure.
During after-dinner drinks, a sales guy whose name I forget drones on about the Ivy League schools his children were accepted to.
“Your daughter played softball,” Chase says. “They made the state finals two years back, right?”
“Softball, yeah,” he slurs. “Her team made state and lost. Fine by me since she wouldn’t have time for playing around in college. A school in Ohio offered her a sports scholarship. As if that would ever happen—astate school,” he snickers.
Chase blinks, appearing to gather his thoughts. “Emma, my daughter, loves softball. She joined her first team this year while my son has been playing soccer since he could walk. I try to see them both play, but you know, it’s tough with the job to get there.”
“Believe me, you’re not missing much. Kids’ sports are the worst. A money pit and the parents all think they’re major league coaches.” He tosses back the rest of his drink and claps a hand at Chase’s shoulder. “Ride that out a few more years. Girls get tired of sports and just want to date and play makeup on YouTube. You’ll be free in no time.”
I don’t like this guy. I don’t like him one bit.
He walks off in a haphazard zig-zag.
Chase’s hand gently gravitates to my back, steering us from the dispersing crowd. “Thank you for being here. Please don’t feel like you have to stay.”
