The Devil’s in the Details

Since I’m told I need to keep our association on the down low, I don’t tell anyone about my pending agreement with Jock and the Columbus Comets.

Even with my own brother, I simply pretend to have a new part-time job opportunity. I tell Paul he shouldn’t worry about anything besides getting ready to go away to art school.

I guess he listens to me—for once!—since getting ready to go to school is exactly what I find him doing one evening when I return home from a shift at the diner.

Today was rough. After I finished working, but before I left, I told Brad I needed to drop down to one or two shifts per week. I don’t even know yet if that’ll fly with the team—I haven’t heard back from Jock on that one—but too bad. I need to hold on to some normal part of my life. It’s already been hard enough to explain why I’m suddenly not desperate for cash.

After I announced I’d like to cut my shifts, Brad, eyeing me suspiciously, said, “I thought you needed the money, Eden.”

“Um, I do,” I quietly responded. “I have a lot of expenses.”

He looked confused. “If that’s true, then how do you plan to make enough to take care of those expenses on so few hours?”

I feigned a smile. “I kind of have something else lined up.”

Narrowing his eyes, Brad asked, “What sort of ‘something else lined up’ are we talking about here?”

Think fast! Think fast!

“Uh, remember that old dude that was in here, the rich one? Well, turns out he’s a agent, and uh, he offered me a very lucrative modeling gig.”

Looking more perplexed than ever, my boss quipped, “But you’re not a model.”

“No, I’m not. You’re right. But…” I spread out my arms, like ta-da. “I guess I am now.”

Another waitress needed Brad’s assistance with something just then—thank God—so I took the opportunity to run the hell out of there.

Ugh, I hate lying to people.

If Brad had pressed, I probably would’ve come clean.

But I can’t. I’m not allowed to tell the truth. Jock cautioned that I must abide by the restrictive terms of the stupid contract I agreed to.

Was it all a big mistake?

I sigh.

I guess time will tell.

Paul, hearing that I’m back, calls me to his room.

Leaning on the doorframe, I say, “Hey. How’s packing coming along? I saw some boxes already out by the apartment door.”

“Yeah, it’s going okay.”

He’s standing there, holding a shirt, but he’s quieter than usual, so I ask, “Is everything all right?”

“Uh-huh.” He shrugs, throws the shirt in a box on the floor. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

I go over to the bed and sit down on the edge.

Paul pauses from throwing things into the box long enough to peer down at me.

Picking up another wrinkled tee, he says, “You look a little nervous yourself, sis. Did something happen at work?”

“Uhhh…” I bite my lip and look away. “I kind of had to tell Brad to drop me down to just a shift or two a week.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

“I found a new job.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” Paul, in the process of shaking out the T-shirt, stops what he’s doing. “You found a new job, Eden? Why would you do something rash like that?”

There’s so much worry etched on his face, testament to the fear he must have that this new development will derail his school plans. Little does he know my new “job” ensures that he can go. Not only that, but there’ll be plenty of extra money. All his needs will be met.

Blowing out a calming breath, I say, “This new job pays really well, Paul. Things are going to be much better now. Money-wise, that is.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

My brother is clearly suspicious, and is it any wonder? People like us don’t just stumble upon high-paying jobs. Unless, of course, you happen to work in a diner and some slick sports agent thinks you’d make the perfect fake girlfriend for his client.

“Yep,” I sigh.

Paul’s not done yet.

Placing his hands on his hips, he inquires, “What kind of new job are we talking about here?”

“It’s just some modeling work,” I reply, sticking with what I told Brad.

Not only do I have to stay consistent with my story, but it sort of fits in a weird way.

Paul narrows his pale green eyes at me. “You’re not thinking of letting someone take nude photos of you, are you, Eden? Or worse yet, you’re not starring in a porno, are you?”

“Good God, no!” I’m appalled he’d even think such a thing. “You know I wouldn’t do something like that. There was just this guy who came into the diner the other night. He’s an agent, and he thinks I have the right look for a new, uh, ad campaign that pays fabulously.”

“What kind of ad campaign?” Paul says, still wary.

I know then that I’m going to have to eventually tell him the truth. I can’t keep piling lie upon lie and feeding them to my brother. I’ll bring it up to Jock when we meet to finalize the paperwork, but until then I better come up with some sort of suitable response to Paul’s questions.

“Uh, um…” I decide to keep it somewhat truthful by blurting out, “It has to do with football.”

“Oh, so like marketing geared for women?” he asks. “You’ll be a model for that?”

“Yeah”—I frown—“it’s something along those lines.”

Paul blows out a relieved breath. “That’s good to know.”

He resumes packing, throwing more shirts and shorts haphazardly into the box.

“I just worry about you, Eden, that’s all.”

Laughing, I say, “Hey, I think that’s my job. I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around. I’m the big sister, remember?”

He snorts, because even though he’s only fifteen, he’s about six foot two, a full half foot taller than me. He also looks older than he is. Paul could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen.

“You’re bigger in years only,” he says.

“Okay,” I concede. “You got me there.”

We dispense with any further talk of my new job, spending the rest of the evening just watching TV and hanging out.

I have to drive Paul up to school in less than a week, so I’m trying to savor these final few days with him. I’m nervous and sad that I’ll be living all by myself real soon.

I’ll make it, though. After all, I have my new job of girlfriend-to-football-player-Graham Tettersaw to keep me busy.

Speaking of which, you bet your ass I start researching my new “boyfriend” as soon as Paul heads off to bed.

Yep, my laptop is out and powered up in no time.

And wow!

After viewing several online photos of Graham, I find I’m not nearly as opposed to this whole girlfriend farce as I first was.

The dude is freaking hot.

I also learn that Graham’s an amazing quarterback, better than I thought.

Over the next couple days, after browsing through photo after photo and reading numerous online articles, I start to kind of like the idea of fake-dating Graham. It’s much more palatable knowing he’s not a troll.

Yep, I can definitely make this work.

One evening, while alone at the apartment, I open my laptop and browse through more photos of my soon-to-be fake boyfriend.

Okay, I may now be a tiny tad obsessed.

“Yikes, I think I’m developing a little crush,” I murmur as I stare at one particularly hot image of Graham.

It’s from some sports magazine, and he’s standing there holding a football above his head. He’s not wearing a shirt, and wow, can you see how buff he is. Graham is like a mountain of pure muscle. Add to that messy blond hair, great bone structure, and piercing blue eyes and you have a true Adonis.

Soon to be my Adonis.

Well, my fake one, but close enough. At least it’s not going to be torture to be around this guy.

“Damn, you are fine,” I murmur as I reluctantly close the pic and move on to another article.

That’s when I come upon some interesting info—Graham is almost thirty-one.

Wow, he looks so much younger.

The dude clearly takes good care of himself. Maybe his youthful appearance is also due to the fact that he’s tan and rocking surfer-dude good looks.

I can’t deny that I find Graham Tettersaw immensely attractive.

Plus, bonus, it sounds like he’s not a jerk.

There are several articles detailing his work as a sponsor for NA. Jock wasn’t lying; Graham kicked his pain pill problem years ago. It’s a shame people still dwell on such a short period of his life. I’m guilty of doing the same thing myself, having first thought of Graham’s issues upon hearing his name.

Hmm, it’s making more and more sense why the team wants him to cultivate a stable image.

That’s cool. I can “play” a good girlfriend.

Now that I think about it, I should’ve told Brad and my brother that I have an acting gig, not a modeling one.

Oh well, close enough.

Plus, I’m going to level with Paul soon anyway.

Upon reading more articles, I learn Graham has a sister named Chloe. She’s married to Las Vegas Wolves hockey defenseman Dylan Culderway, and they’re about to welcome their first child this fall.

“Aw,” I say, smiling. “That means Graham will be an uncle.”

In the article, it says he’s excited about that.

Okay, it’s official—Graham Tettersaw definitely seems like a really good dude.

And he’s hot as sin, as established.

Still, I’m nervous as hell, especially when, later that night, I hear back from Jock.

He tells me we need to meet so I can review and sign the final contract. He also mentions there’s an additional condition.

I wonder what that could be.

“That’ll make our agreement binding and official,” he goes on. “Then your first payment can be deposited into your checking account.”

“Okay, sure.”

I readjust the phone to my ear.

Shit, I need that money. I don’t have enough cash to buy gas to drive my brother up to Mansfield to his new school.

“When and where should we meet?” I ask. “The sooner the better.”

“Getting cold feet, Miss Vetterly? Afraid if you don’t sign soon, you’ll back out?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Good, good. Still, how about if we meet tonight?”

“That works for me.”

“Excellent. I’m down at the training facility right now. I’ll be here for a few more hours. Do you know where that’s located?”

“Yes,” I reply. “It’s not far from me at all.”

“Perfect.”

He gives me instructions on where to park and which door to go in to access the area where the administrative offices are located.

It hits me then that this is really happening. And despite my earlier excitement, I start to feel ill.

Swallowing hard, I ask, “Is Graham going to be there tonight?”

“No.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

I don’t think I’m ready to meet him just yet.

I’m all nerves and hammering heart when Jock says, “We’ll arrange a meet up with you two real soon. We need to coach you both on the made-up backstory we plan to present to the press and the public.”

Oh my God, a backstory and everything.

Can I do this?

I have to. So Paul can have a good life, the life he deserves. People like us don’t usually get a happily-ever-after, and that’s fine—for me. But if anyone deserves a decent future, it’s my brother.

I remind myself that it won’t be bad. It’s not like Graham is gross. I can surely walk around with him arm in arm.

Hell, I may even give him a peck on the cheek—for the cameras, of course—now and again.

Yes, I can do this!

I’m pumped as I wrap up with Jock.

Before leaving the apartment, I touch up my makeup and leave a note for Paul that I had to run out to do something.

When I arrive at the training facility, I go in through the door I was told to and walk down the hall. I find Jock’s office and knock on the open door.

Looking up from where he’s poring over papers on his desk, he beckons me in.

After we exchange pleasantries, I sit down across from him, and he hands me the contract.

“Wait.” I hold up my hand as I skim through the terms, pausing on one in particular.

This must be that additional condition he mentioned.

Clearing my throat, I tap the contract. “What’s this clause about Graham and me living together in the same house? I have my own apartment, so that won’t be necessary.”

“Uh, actually it will be necessary, Miss Vetterly,” Jock replies. “You may keep your apartment, if you’d like. We can spin a tale that it holds nostalgic memories for you or whatever. As I mentioned, we have a whole sweet backstory cooked up, detailing how you and Graham met and fell in love back in May when he was in town.”

“Oh, Lord.” I gulp.

“We’ll also put it out there that you guys kept things quiet in the beginning, but you’re now ready to come clean. Mostly because your relationship has moved to the next level—aka you’re moving in together.”

He stresses those words, letting them hang in the air, before he adds, “So, as you can see, there’s no way around it. You and my client must reside in the same house for everything to appear believable.”

“Wow, this is really overwhelming,” I murmur.

“It shouldn’t be. It’s only temporary, Miss Vetterly. We’ve gotten everything ready, so all you have to do is pack your bags.”

I snort. “Let me guess, this means you and the team already picked out a place for us to live?”

“We have indeed,” Jock confirms. “And you won’t be disappointed. The house is a beautiful brick colonial over in New Albany. It’s located on a two-acre tract of land. Very private, so there shouldn’t be any nosy neighbors snooping around. We don’t need questions and prying eyes, right?”

“Right,” I murmur dejectedly as I feel my free will slipping away.

Moving in with Graham?

Sure, he’s hot and all, but I don’t know about sharing space with him.

Jock is still singing the praises of the new house when I tune back in. “The home is rather large, over four thousand square feet. You and Graham can easily maintain separate living quarters if that’s what you’re most comfortable with.”

So much for me fretting about my new lonely life in the apartment.

“Okay,” I say, breathing in and out slowly to calm my nerves. “I’ll move into the house.”

“Excellent, so—”

“Wait,” I interrupt, holding up my hand. “I have one condition of my own, Jock.”

“Oh, you do, do you? And what would that be, Miss Vetterly?”

I think about it and amend, “Actually, I have two. One you’ve already heard.”

“Go on.”

“Well, first, like I mentioned before, I’d like to keep working at the diner.”

He looks like he’s about to say no, so I hurriedly add, “It would look really suspicious if I left completely. Brad, my manager, would ask all sorts of questions. Plus, I kind of like the idea of holding onto a little bit of my current life.”

Jock blows out a breath. “Okay, okay. The team actually cleared that one. But your first priority must be Graham.”

“Of course,” I reply.

“Good. So what’s your next condition, Eden?”

“I want to tell my brother the truth about this arrangement. And before you tell me I can’t, just know that he’s super discreet and would never say a word to anyone.”

Jock balks a little on that one. “I don’t know. I’m going to have to get clearance from the team on that, for sure. There’s only so much I alone can approve.”

I nod. “I accept that. But please, please check and get back to me soon.”

“I will,” he says.

Ugh, I feel like I’m being sucked into something so much bigger than myself.

There’s something else worrying me too.

“Can I ask a question?” I say.

“Sure.”

“There’s no sex in this agreement, right? I don’t have to sleep with your client, correct? As gorgeous as Graham is, I don’t think I could hop into bed with him on demand.”

Jock looks at me over his reading glasses and laughs. “No, there’s no requirement for you to sleep with my client. As I told you before, there are many bedrooms inside the house.”

“Oh, okay. Good. I’m glad there’s no sex required.”

“Not in a fake relationship, no,” Jock confirms.

“Phew.” I pretend to swipe my brow.

I don’t tell Jock I wouldn’t be entirely opposed if something more than “fake” developed between me and Graham.

No, I keep that all to myself.