Page 9 of The Backup Groom
“Of course you did,” she mocked.
They had a stare-down, but Huck finally gave up and walked out.
Luckily, Stella was indispensable to the company, or she would have been fired when Huck took over as general manager of the company.
As for Frannie, she was none other than Huck’s girlfriend, also known as “Futile Frannie” by Stella. She was also the one who replaced me when I was demoted to Media Buyer, a wide-open display of nepotism that none of us could do anything about it, considering Huck’s dad owned the agency.
I have been living in my own special hell ever since.
After Huck disappeared down the hallway I said, “Can you come up with a stronger nickname for him? Schmuck doesn’t cut it.”
“I thought about a-hole, but it doesn’t rhyme with Huck.” Stella sniggered. “Don’t worry about him. He’s all bark and bad breath. It’s all the more reason for you to marry Ryan. Imagine what you can do with five million dollars! You can quit this place, start your own boutique ad agency, and take me with you. We’ll be the dynamic duo. I can easily manage the business while you get back to your passion—working your magic on the creative side.”
I sighed. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about that, but seriously, how can I marry someone I don’t love?”
Let alone someone I haven’t seen in years.
“Make it a business deal!” Stella said. “Offer Ryan a cut if he goes along with it. You get married as friends. Strictly platonic. Separate beds. Separate body parts. Like roommates, nothing more. If you rekindle those old feelings, great, but if not, you both have the money and can move on with your lives.”
“Do you really think it would be that easy?” I asked.
Stella gave two thumbs up. “Absolutely. I also think it would be a huge mistake to say no to such a grand opportunity. Five million dollars is life-changing money.”
She was right, but was I bold enough to actually go through with it?
I couldn’t believe I was considering it.
“Oh—I forgot to tell you,” I said. “If I don’t marry Ryan, Mercedes gets the money.”
Stella blinked. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish I were.”
“I have this funny feeling that Uncle G listeddiabolicalas one of the positive traits on his resume,” Stella said.
“Tell me about it,” I said, shaking my head.
“Seriously, if there were any doubts about him being a genius, they are gone, gone, gone.”
“Do tell—why would Uncle G put that in his will? It’s absolutely, positively absurd.”
“It’s simple,” Stella said. “He wanted to light a fire under your butt and make sure you took some sort of action. He knew the best way to do that was to get Maggoty Mercedes involved since you both don’t see eye-to-eye.”
“That’s an understatement. And get this—she told me to not marry Ryan, so she could get the five million and split it with me.”
Stella gasped incredulously. “That wench can’t be trusted. You obviously said no.”
“I did, but she threatened me before she walked out.”
She waved it off. “Don’t even worry about that. She’s too lazy to pick up a gun or knife. Anyway, forget about her. We need to get down to business.” She tapped on her phone and started scrolling.
I raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
Stella smiled. “Searching for Mr. Ryan Scott’s profile on Facebook to see if he has aged well. How long has it been?”
“Almost twenty years,” I said, without thinking.
“Anything can happen in twenty years. He could be wearing a toupee that looks like a chia pet. Or . . .” Her eyes went wide. “Wait a minute, does he have a peg-leg and a patch over one eye?” She turned her head sideways to analyze the picture.
