Page 2 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

“Is he supposed to come by and give you pointers about how to dress for an important, potentially career-altering meeting? Because you need them. Why do you look like you just stepped out of the Hudson?”

I ignore the way he waves a hand at my damp hair and march back toward the garment rack. “He’s been stopping by all week, trying to get rent.”

“Oh, howawful. A landlord, trying to get rent money from a tenant. Howdarehe.”

As usual, Fizzy wanders to the kitchen and opens my fridge. I’m not sure what it is about traveling into NYC from his home in Silver Springs, upstate, that always makes him so famished, but it’s always this way. Maybe it has something to do with how much brainpower it takes to battle city traffic. Sometimes when he gets in we head straight to a diner a few blocks down from my apartment, but we won’t be doing that tonight.

Tonight, I’m meeting Maxine Finch.

My idol.

A painter I’ve worshiped since I was thirteen. In my world, Maxine is more of a superstar than Taylor Swift

I feel like I’m about to go slurp down butternut squash with a world-famous celebrity. Not only is Maxine a painter whose work I worship, but she’s also a gallery owner who holds the key to my career.

Tonight, we’re supposed to discuss whether my work is worthy of a show at her prestigious gallery.

My stomach is in a knot as I finally locate a black clutch that won’t look terrible with my dress.

I’m not at all surprised when I turn and see that Fizzy’s sniffing a box of Chinese takeout. “Is this still good?” he asks.

“It’s from last night. You can have it.”

He sets it on the counter just in time to bend over and sneeze into his elbow. I notice how red his nose is as he wipes it with his handkerchief.

“Allergies acting up?”

“Some awful thing out there is blooming. I thought I was through the worst of it now that it’s June, but good old Mother Nature… She always has something new and wondrous to dish up to us humans at her mercy, doesn't she? And, of course, that mongrel doesn’t help.” He pokes a pair of chopsticks Bo’s way and then resumes digging through the carton.

Bo, appreciative of attention in any form that it might come in, thumps his tail against the bed. He rolls slightly, exposing his belly. Clearly, he wants Fizzy to come to him and give him some nice tummy rubs.

“Hi, Bo,” Fizzy says. “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to stay over here.”

“I bet it’s the butterfly weeds that are sprouting up around the trees out there. That stuff always goes nuts this time of year.You took some kind of medicine before you left Silver Springs, right?”

“I see what you’re doing… changing the subject. I won’t have it. I drove all this way to give you some exciting news in person. We’re not going to waste another precious moment talking about me, my runny nose, and my itchy eyes.Ah-choo!”

“Wait, what news? I hoped you were here to help me get ready for this meeting with Maxine. I have to leave in…” I sneak a peek at my cell phone and frown. “Yikes. Twenty minutes. We can meet up afterwards if you’re up for it.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about. Tonight, after your meeting, I want you to meet a guy from Silver Springs.”

He pauses and delivers another honking sneeze into his handkerchief. “Ugh. Genetics, why did you forsake me?” He shakes a fist at the sky dramatically and then adjusts his glasses. “Look, I know you’ve been low on funds lately.”

“ ‘Low’ is a major understatement. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to pay for this dinner tonight. I checked out the menu online… Twenty-five bucks for a glass of wine. One glass!” I prop my makeup bag on the windowsill and rummage around until I find my liquid black eyeliner.

“Exactly my point. You can’t go on like this. And that’s my news: I have a lead on a big pay-day for you. Remember Damian Knight?”

It’s hard to focus on whatever Fizzy’s jabbering about while trying to craft the perfect winged lines on my upper eyelids. “Hm?”

“Damian Knight. Of course, you remember him. We went to school with him. The richest kid in town, about six years older than us…? He was already off in college by the time we were in high school, so you probably didn’t see him much for a few years before you left town, but I’m sure you know who I’m talking about.” “Yeah, yeah… the Knight boy.” I grew up, as Fizzy did, inSilver Springs, a small town in northern New York. The Knight family was the wealthiest in town by far, thanks to the fact that they owned the Bubbly Springs Soda Company. To this day, I can’t see a can of Bubbly Springs without thinking of that family.

“He’s some sort of art collector these days, is that right?” I ask as I use a powder brush to dust bronzer on my cheeks.

“Exactly. His collection of abstract art is getting more and more attention from the press and other art aficionados. And he’s interested in commissioning an artist for a big new piece he wants done. I suggested he get together with you to discuss it.” “Me?” I pause my make-up applying to give Fizzy a puzzled look. “Why me? I don’t do abstract. It’s not my thing. You know that.” “But you could, couldn’t you? If the price is right.”

“Nope. Unh unh.” I shake my head and then zip up my makeup bag. I pluck a white cardigan off of its hanger and drape it over one arm. “I can’t totally change my style, just so I can get paid. Besides, isn’t Damian… difficult? Like, total grump, negative Nancy, party pooper?”

“Let’s give him some credit. He’s in a tough position. Half the town works for Bubbly Springs these days. Damian has to keep his distance if he wants to be an effective boss.”

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