Chapter One
Indi
“Just fake it, honey!”
I frowned and turned to my brother, Dawson, as I wiped dust off my shop’s main counter. “What did you say?”
He gave me a pained look. “See this expression?” he said, pointing to his own face. “This is what you look like all the time now. If you want customers, you need to look happier. I know you aren’t actually happy, but just pretend. Fake it!”
I let out a sigh. “It’s not that easy. Besides, do you really think a few smiles will attract people?” I said, gesturing around us at all the empty space.
“Yes. Law of attraction. If you have positive thoughts, good things will come to you. Haven’t you ever read The Secret?”
Wiping down the underside of the counter, I snickered, then stood back up. “The year 2006 just called. They want their book recommendation back.”
Dawson rolled his eyes and sauntered back over to the little lounge set he’d been sitting on by the front window of the shop. “Fine,” he called back at me as he went. “I won’t try to help anymore.”
I stuck my tongue out at him just as my best friend Cinta came out of the back storeroom, where she’d gone earlier to take a private call. “Help with what?” she asked, perching next to Dawson on the deep purple velveteen seat.
“Dawson thinks if I smile more, I’ll get more customers. As if changing my facial expression will somehow change the fact that no one comes to real bookstores anymore now that they have e-readers and the internet,” I said, putting my hands on my hips.
I opened my little bookstore two years ago, and while it got off to a decent start courtesy of the Seattle hipster crowd who found it charming, things had dwindled over time. Now, the quarterly rates and rent were due and I wasn’t sure how I’d pay them along with the rent on my own little house, not to mention the stack of bills I had piling up. Things were looking pretty damn grim.
Cinta cocked her head to the side, her gorgeous black hair cascading over one shoulder. She’d inherited her shiny dark locks from her Japanese mother and her pretty grey eyes from her Irish father. If she wasn’t my bestie, I might be envious of her good looks, but to me, she would always be the girl who used to eat chalk back in preschool, where we first met nearly twenty years ago.
“I have to agree with Indi,” she finally declared. “A few smiles won’t change the economy. It’s a nice thought, though, I’ll give you that.”
“It can work,” Dawson insisted. “I smiled at a guy in a bar once, and now he’s been my partner for three wonderful years.”
“That’s because you have perfect teeth and look like a male model. Of course Drew fell for your smile,” I said with a wry grin, sinking down on a smaller chair across from their seat. I absentmindedly rearranged a stack of books on the coffee table as I went on. “But seriously, guys, I’m doing worse each month. I might actually have to close down.” I sighed heavily and put my head in my hands. “God, it’s painful to even say that out loud.”
Cinta opened her mouth to say something, but Dawson held his hand up to silence her. “Wait, the tides might be turning. A guy just walked in, and he’s dressed really nicely,” he said in a hushed voice. “That means he probably has money…money which he could spend here.”
We turned to look at the door. Dawson was right. Finally, I had a customer—my first one all day, even though it was nearing three P.M. I stood up and took Dawson’s advice, plastering on a big friendly smile. “Hi, can I help you?” I asked the man, approaching him and standing at a respectable distance. I always hated it when shop assistants got right in my face while I shopped, so I tried not to do that with my own customers.
He smiled and shook his head. “Just browsing,” he said. “Actually, wait…do you have a mystery section?”
I pointed toward the array of wooden aisles lining the vast majority of the store. “Third aisle. It’s marked on the end.”
“Thanks.”
“Please let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do.”
He headed down the aisle, and I turned back to Cinta and Dawson with two thumbs up. “You might be right after all, big brother,” I said, returning to my seat.
“Told you so.” He grinned and stretched out, then sat up straight again a moment later. “Oh, look, he’s heading over here with four books.”
He was right. The customer already had a few books tucked under his arm, and he approached me with a friendly smile. “May I have your Wi-Fi password?” he asked. “If you have it here, that is.”
“Sure. The password is Indi92,” I said before spelling it out for him just in case. Most people added an ‘e’ on to the end, assuming I meant the word ‘indie’.
He nodded and tapped at his cell phone as he walked off, disappearing into the aisles again.
“He must want to look up reviews for all those books,” Cinta said, smiling at me. “They were all hardcovers, too, so there’s today’s portion of the rent paid on those sales alone.”
She spoke too soon. The man appeared again a moment later. “Thanks for your help. Your store is lovely. Could you put these back for me?” he asked, setting the books down on the coffee table in front of me.
“Oh. Sure. They weren’t what you were looking for?” I asked, trying not to let the defeat show in my expression or tone.
“They are. But I just checked and saw that I can get the e-book copies online for five bucks cheaper each. I don’t know why I didn’t think to check earlier. Anyway, thanks!”
He left before I could even reply, and I sank back into the chair, my shoulders sagging. “I should’ve known,” I muttered.
“Have you thought about lowering your prices?” Cinta asked gently.
I sighed and rubbed my temples. “I can’t. They’re already priced at the lowest I can go. E-books are different to print books. No printing costs and so on.”
“Shit. Didn’t think of that, but it makes sense.”
I shook my head slowly. “It’s my own fault. I don’t know why I thought a boutique bookstore would be a good business idea in this day and age.”
Cinta patted my hand. “It’s always been your dream, though. You just have to figure out a way to make it work.”
“I guess. I did have a few ideas the other day, but it would require a lot of cash to get it all started, and I’m fresh out of money,” I said glumly.
“You know I’d help if I could, but photography doesn’t exactly pay amazingly well either,” she replied glumly. She frowned, and then her face suddenly brightened. “Oh my god. I just had the best idea!” she said, eyes lighting up.
She looked so excited that Dawson and I both perked up as well. “What is it?” I asked.
“How would you feel about winning a million dollars?” she asked in a dramatic tone, pulling out her cell phone and tapping on the screen a few times.
“A million?” I arched a brow. “Are you kidding?”
“No. Really.”
“Well, I’d feel pretty damn good about that, obviously. But I have a feeling there’s more to what you’re saying. A lot more.”
Cinta had always blushed easily because of her delicate pale skin, and now was no exception. “Well, there’s kind of a catch,” she said, her cheeks pinking up.
“Of course there is. Lay it on me. Do I need to sell my soul or something? Sacrifice a few virgins?”
She laughed. “It’s not that bad, but it is kinda wild. You’ll think it sounds totally ridiculous.”
“I’m listening….”
“I saw an ad online last night and had a peek out of curiosity. Channel Nine has applications open on their website right now. They’re looking for people to compete on a new reality show in a few months. First prize is a million dollars, second is five hundred grand, and third is two hundred and fifty grand. And it’s filmed on Fremantle Island, which isn’t all that far from here in the grand scheme of things. Best of all, it only takes eleven weeks to film, and they pay you nine hundred a week stipend for as long as you’re on the show. So even if you don’t win, you still make something to cover your regular wages while you’re gone.”
I was too shocked at her suggestion to even form a coherent reply right away. That was her big idea? Reality TV? I genuinely would’ve been less surprised if she went with the virgin sacrifice soul-selling angle.
Dawson scoffed. “A reality show?” he said, echoing my thoughts. “Shit, Indi barely even watches regular TV, let alone reality TV. Always has her nose stuck in books instead. What makes you think she could apply for and win a show?”
“Just hear me out!” Cinta said, defensively raising her hands. “I wasn’t done!”
I sat back, a curious smile playing on my lips. “Okay, I’ll bite, but only because I could really use the money. Tell me more about this show.”
Dawson snickered behind his hand, and Cinta glared at him before continuing. “They aren’t getting all that many applications. Because…” She blushed even more than she had two minutes prior. “The application process is more selective than most shows.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Selective in what way?” I said, sensing a pretty big catch coming up.
Her cheeks were crimson now. “Um. Well, it’s called ‘I Do Or Die’. It’s for married couples who think their relationship is dying, and they want to strengthen their marriage and fix things before it really does die. The couple who works together to get through their problems along with completing the show’s challenges will win. It’s voted on each week by viewers.”
I jerked my head back, my eyes bulging in surprise at her admission. “Cinta… I haven’t even been on a date for six months. Unless you count that time three months ago when I had something stuck in my eye and accidentally winked at the pizza delivery guy,” I said. “So I think it’s safe to say I’m not getting married anytime soon, let alone having issues in my non-existent marriage that require me to go on a reality show to air out all the dirty laundry.”
“Well, yeah, I know that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But if the three of us put our heads together, we can come up with a way to get around that little obstacle, right?”
I looked at Dawson, whose expression looked about as incredulous as I’m sure mine currently was. Then I turned back to Cinta. “Uhh…no? I actually can’t think of a single way to get around the fact that I don’t have a husband,” I said, furrowing my brows.
“That’s because you can’t,” Dawson added. “I’d hardly call it a ‘little obstacle’. And Christ… ’I Do Or Die’? Sounds like a horror movie, not a show about fixing marriages.”
It was safe to say we both thought she’d gone off the deep end, but Cinta raised her eyebrows and pressed on anyway. “How badly do you want a million dollars, Indi? Or even just the second or third prize?”
I chewed my lip for a second. “Pretty damn bad,” I admitted. “Who wouldn’t want that much money? I’d be able to keep the store afloat for longer and get started on all my plans to fix things. And a paid vacation on an island would be amazing right now.…” My voice trailed off for a few seconds as my mind floated back down to earth. It was nice to dream, but some things were simply never going to happen. This reality TV show was one of them. “No, come on, it’s impossible. It’s a nice idea, and I love you for trying to help, but it’s not exactly in the realm of reality, is it?” I finished. “No pun intended.”
Cinta looked at me for a long moment. Then she smiled, a devious expression flashing in her grey eyes now. “Nothing is impossible,” she said, leaning down to her tote bag, which she’d stashed on the floor earlier. She grabbed her little laptop computer and pulled it out with a flourish. Then she sat up straight, her shoulders squared and her chin set confidently high. “There’s a very obvious solution to all of this. I can’t believe it only just occurred to me.”
“Yeah? What’s this incredible solution?” Dawson asked in a scornful tone before I could get a word in. My stomach began to flutter, and I had a feeling I already knew damn well where this was going, even if my brother didn’t.
Cinta’s smile stretched into a triumphant grin. “We’re going to find Indi a fake husband…”