You Want Me to Do What?

“You want me to do what?”

Irritated, I grab a water from the mini-fridge, take a swig, and slam the bottle down on the table in the middle of the living room of the hotel suite I’m in.

“You’re fucking crazy, Jock,” I sneer.

“It wasn’t my idea,” he replies, unfazed by my outburst as he sits quietly on the sofa. “I told you the added stipulation in the new contract the Comets are offering was completely new to me too.”

“It’s fucking loco is what it is,” I grumble.

It’s true. This latest development in contract negotiations is truly nuts. They want me to pretend to have a fake girlfriend.

Are they off their rockers?

“How’s this even supposed to work?” I ask.

“We’re hammering out the details.”

“Great. Do I at least get to meet this mystery woman before I sign?”

“No. There’s no time for that. You will meet her, though, before the season begins.”

“Whatever,” I huff. “I can’t believe I’m supposed to pretend to be dating a girl I’ve never even seen. To top it off, I get to meet her just once, then I’m expected to act as if we’re in a serious relationship.”

“Pretty much,” Jock confirms.

This is bad, but there’s something more I’m struggling with—I’m supposed to also fucking move in with this pretend girlfriend.

“Why do I have to live in the same house as her?” I ask. “Isn’t me pretending that she’s my girlfriend more than enough?”

“I’m afraid not, Graham. This is what the team wants. Things need to look a certain way in order for this to work and be believable.”

Crap, he’s using my first name. This really must be nonnegotiable.

I sigh, and then ask, “Is this fake girlfriend condition because of my past painkiller problem?”

“Uh…”

“If so, can’t you explain to the Comets that I don’t have any issues with pain pills any longer? I’m freaking settled, Jock, all right?”

“You have to look settled,” he quietly replies.

I run my hand down my face. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means appearances are everything.”

“Clearly, they are.”

Jock slides a contract out from his briefcase, and I take a seat on the sofa next to him.

Clipping a pen to the top of the binder, he holds the paperwork out to me. “You need to sign this contract today, Tettersaw. And you need to agree to everything, all the stipulations. Training camp is starting in little over a week, and the Comets would like to announce to the press that you’re their starting quarterback this season.”

I stare down at the contract. I’ve seen it already. Jock faxed it over to me right before he showed up at my temporary living accommodations. It’s essentially the same contract that was presented, and taken away, back in May.

Of course, there’s the new slight variation—the pretend girlfriend clause. Otherwise, the terms are the same: a one-year deal with an option for renewal.

The money’s good, a little better than before. Probably due to the fake girlfriend bullshit.

“Ah hell, give it to me.”

I snatch the contract from Jock and sign my name sloppily on the last page.

“Every page needs to be initialed and signed,” he tells me when I try to hand the stupid thing back to him.

I roll my eyes. “Of course it does.”

As I’m signing and initialing like a mofo, I think about how I haven’t had any kind of girlfriend, real or otherwise, in a very long time. When I wrote down my goals back in the spring, one of them was to start a new life.

I guess that would include giving a relationship a try.

But I meant a person I would freaking choose for myself, not some arranged relationship, for fuck’s sake!

And that makes me wonder…

“The Comets aren’t expecting me to marry this chick or anything, right?”

Jock snickers. “No. But there may be a pretend engagement at some point this season. We’ll see how things play out.”

Christ.

Shaking my head, I ask, “Have you seen her? What’s her name? If you haven’t met her, do you know what she looks like? Maybe you can get me a picture, yeah?”

A grin spreads on Jock’s face.

Hmm, the bastard looks smug, really fucking smug.

“Her name is Eden,” he says, “Eden Vetterly. She lives here in Columbus. And yes, I’ve seen her in person. In fact, I’m the one who chose her for you.”

“Chose her for me?” I chuff. “You make her sound like she’s a selection from a girlfriend menu.”

Jock laughs. “I don’t mean it like that, but…” He holds my gaze. “Let’s just say if she were on some girlfriend menu, she’d definitely be the one you’d choose.”

I let that brew for a sec. But then I realize it doesn’t matter.

I don’t even care if I get to see a picture of her or not.

It’s all fake anyway, right?

Plus, I think I’d rather be surprised.

That way I can decide on the spot whether Jock deserves a high-five…or a pink slip.