Reluctantly Yours(9)
When Tessa started talking about her two-year plan for marriage and babies, I knew there was no need to reveal my two-day plan to find a fake girlfriend for a business meeting. After lunch, we parted ways, both knowing nothing would come of it.
This dinner with Fred Hinkle is imperative to my business, I can’t ask any random woman off the street. I need discretion. If Fred found out that I lied, not only would any hope of a business deal with him be ruined, but my reputation could be tarnished. The walls of the corner I’ve backed myself into are closing in.
Carl is a mediocre racquetball player, he’s even worse at tennis. He does more shit talking than actual playing, so the fact that my shirt is drenched from my efforts is a telling sign to us both. He wanders over to where I’m standing and uncaps his water bottle.
“I’ve never seen you suck this bad.” He takes a swig of his water, while I run the towel behind my neck. “Normally when a guy’s game is off, I’d say there’s a woman involved, but since you live like a monk, it’s got to be about business.”
“I don’t live like a monk. Unlike some people, I prefer to keep my personal life off Page Six.”
“Man, you must forget who you are. If there was anything to report, you’d be front and center with the rest of us.”
I’ve known Carl since our days at Hawthorne Prep. After undergrad at Columbia, I got my MBA from Wharton while Carl went to Harvard for his law degree. When I took over SCM from my uncle, Carl was an easy choice for in-house counsel. I trust him and he’s a far better lawyer than a racquetball player.
I hesitate to tell Carl about my predicament. I pride myself on being a problem solver. In the seven years since I took over running SCM, there’s never been an issue I couldn’t resolve. I love a good challenge. The fact that I’ve put myself in a position with Fred Hinkle that I’m not clear on the path forward has kept me up the past two nights.
“It is about a woman,” I grumble, before taking a drink of my water.
Carl’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Or lack thereof.”
“Oh, shit. You can’t get laid?”
“I’m fine,” I practically growl, not because I need to get laid but because I need Carl to not think with his dick for a moment. “That’s not what it’s about. You know I’m determined to land the deal with Voltaire Telecom, but Fred Hinkle is prideful.”
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
I pin him with a look. “Not the point. I couldn’t get him to take a meeting, so I tracked him down at Amber’s wedding. He’s got a new girlfriend.”
“Did you hit on her?” Carl’s eyes go wide.
“No. I told him I have a girlfriend.”
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“He looked like he wanted to murder me when I was talking to his girlfriend. I wasn’t trying to flirt with her. I gave her one compliment about her nails to be nice and Fred did not like it. So, I made up a girlfriend so he’d relax and not think I was flirting with his.”
“So, it was a little white lie. What’s the issue?” Carl asks.
“Frankie, Fred’s girlfriend, was excited and said we should do a double date. We’re going to Gallagher’s tomorrow night.” I take another sip of water, trying to wash down the doubt that is building up again. The nagging feeling that I’ve pushed it too far this time.
I’ve taken some risks over the years. I’ve found that in business, that’s how you get ahead. Jumping out of the plane and hoping that the parachute opens. When it does, the fools who weren’t brave enough to jump wish they’d had the guts. Telling Fred I had a girlfriend, setting up a date with him and Frankie, was a huge gamble. One that at this point I’m uncertain how I can make work. I need someone who I can be honest with about the situation, but all the women I’ve seen recently want a serious relationship. I can’t be sure that they’ll play along and if they decide not to, I’m fucked.
Carl’s mouth gapes open, “Fuck, dude, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to find a girlfriend in the next thirty-six hours.”
I sent Marcus home early, opting to walk home from the club, hoping it will give me time to think.
I’m determined to find a solution to my lack of girlfriend issue. I have to show up with someone to the double date tomorrow night, or tell Fred I’m a liar. The latter is not an option. If Fred finds out I lied about having a girlfriend, I’m in a worse position than I was a week ago when he wouldn’t give me the time of day.
Maybe I could cancel. Tell Fred my girlfriend is ill. Buy myself more time. But there’s no guarantee I’d get the opportunity again.
I’ve thought about hiring an escort and demanding she sign an NDA, but there’s the risk that we’d be seen and it would end up on every one of the city’s gossip sites by morning that I, Barrett St. Clair, had to hire a date. My teeth clench. This shouldn’t be this hard, but the problem is that I’ve found most women want to be my actual girlfriend, not a fake one.
It’s Friday evening and the streets are already filled with couples strolling hand in hand, laughing and talking.
I’m not jealous. If I didn’t need a girlfriend for dinner with Fred tomorrow night, I couldn’t care less about my singledom. It’s preferred. No one to answer to, no one to inevitably disappoint when I need to choose business dinners over date nights.