Page 9 of The Fake Dating Plan

I led him to the factory floor where, thankfully, all the deliveries had been put into storage. The floor looked clean and organized, almost like an editorial version of what it usually looked like. They had done this in two hours.

I mouthed a thank you to Matthew as we made our way towards him.

“This is Matthew, our factory manager,” I said. “Matthew, this is Axel Reid, our new investor.”

Matthew gave him a firm handshake, and then I led Ax around the factory. Everyone was busy packaging the new pieces that had come in.

“Your place looks productive,” Ax said.

“We do try to keep up with the demand,” I said.

“Huh.” With his hands still in his pockets, he wandered out of the building through the wide doors where a truck was strategically parked to give the impression of waiting for delivery. My heels click-clacked as I rushed out to keep up pace with him. I almost bumped into his back when he stopped. We were outside now at the back of the building surrounded by boxes, noise, and the stench of the New York alleyway.

He turned and said, “What’s your relationship with Heron?”

What was this now? “An investor, like I told you.”

“Nothing else.”

“What are you getting at?”

He took out his phone, tapped it a few times, and shoved it in my face. I grabbed it and pinched it to enlarge the photo on it. It was of me in a white bikini, looking like a video vixen on Heron’s yacht. It was a photo taken years ago. I had been trying hard to land him as an investor and he had invited me onto his yacht. A kid of his, some teenager, had taken this photo and put it on social media. It had a caption that read:Me, Dad, and some of his bitches. #yachtlife.I remember asking to take it down, and thought he had, but it seems like he didn’t.

“Where did you get this?”

“The Internet. Not that hard to find.” He grabbed his phone and swiped a few times and shoved it in my face again. It was a similar picture of me and Heron. This time, it looked like we were a couple embracing. Only that’s not what was happening. Heron had grabbed my waist, and a photo had been snapped. Immediately after, I wiggled out of his embrace.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“No.”

“Did you sleep with him for money?”

“Fuck you!” I knew I was dangerously close to losing the funding, but I couldn’t let him insult me like that. And based on some random photos.

“You’ve done it before though, haven’t you?”

I felt like a heavy weight had been thrown on me. “That’s not what happened.”

“‘I did it for money.’ Isn’t that what you said last time.”

How many times did I wish I could take back those words? I’ve spent countless hours wondering what could have been if I simply had been truthful.

“I’m not sleeping with Heron, I’ve never slept with Heron.”

“You two look fairly cozy from my vantage point.”

“What’s your point Ax?”

“If you’re using me to get back at your sugar daddy—”

“Using you? You’re the one who’s using me to get your revenge on him! I thought that’s why you wanted this deal. And you know what, Ax, I’m fine with you using me. I don’t mind. But don’t turn this into anything other than what it is.”

“Which is?”

I didn’t realize it, but the longer we sparred, the closer we got to each other until I had to look up to stare directly into his eyes. Even with my heels on, he was still taller than me.

“You and Heron hate each other. I don’t know why and I don’t care how. All I know is that you have a great opportunity to take something from him. Why are you wasting your time with whether Heron and I fucked?”

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