Chapter 3

 

Chris

 

My apartment I shared with three roommates was in Brooklyn, which was a hike from Manhattan after work to change and get a haircut before the dinner meeting.

I barely caught the train back to Manhattan in time to haul ass down the street, so I wasn’t late for possibly the biggest meeting of my career.

My phone had been buzzing non-stop since Aunt Rosie and Mom got the news of my meeting. I think Mom told the entire family, the New Jersey ones and the ones still in Mexico.

But I didn’t have time to chitchat; I had to use the remaining fifty-six dollars in my bank account to spend on tapas and try to woo this new client.

 

***

 

I thought I’d be late, getting to the restaurant, but I was right on time, giving me a few minutes to peruse the overpriced menu while I waited for Mary.

Of course, my phone wouldn’t stop chirping. I was about to turn it off when I caught the whiff of a floral scent and looked up to see Mary James standing at the other side of the table.

She was the vision of every single one of my wet dreams with her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and framing those beautifully tanned and rounded tits that were practically popping out of her little red top.

Her tight jeans hugged the curves of her rounded ass, and I tried not to let my mouth water or eyes trail the way down her wicked body.

“Chris Garcia. You must be Mary,” I said, standing up and walking around the table, putting my hand out.

Mary looked down at my hand, curling her plump upper lip before her gaze trailed to my face. “Are you kidding me? What are you like twelve?”

I smirked. “Twenty-eight, Princess.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have gotten smart with her, but I was the same age, and I’d had enough women in my life look at me like that until I bought their next drink or had them bent over the backseat of their Audi.

“Mature, Instagram model,” she muttered with a grimace.

I pulled out her chair, and as she sat down, I leaned in, putting lips to her ear. “An Instagram model and the porn star. What a pair.”

She gawked as I went around to my seat at the other side of the table. So it probably wasn’t the best strategy to open with that, but Mary wasn’t leaving. Just as I thought. Everyone else played into her ego, and if I did the opposite, it kept her intrigued.

“You’re a smartass and talk a big game for someone who is supposed to be working for me.” Mary smirked, leaning in closer so I could see down her shirt. If she thought her tits were going to be a distraction, she was right.

“It seems to me, that you’re the one who needs me. You’re the one needing PR, and my agency sent me to meet with you at this way-too-pricey place for appetizers for dinner. I bet these empanadas are made from store bought crust even,” I said, waving my hand over the open menu.

“Would you prefer we go to McDonald's? You can take a selfie with your Happy Meal and post it to Instagram,” she quipped.

“If we’re going that far down this block, we should probably head to Starbucks for some soy, non-fat venti lattes. We could take a joint selfie with our drinks and be hashtag blessed.”

She smiled slightly, leaning in and putting her head in her hands. “I don’t know whether to laugh or leave right now.”

I shrugged. “Hey, if you wanna go, I’ll follow. Maybe we can find a street vendor with some decent empanadas, too.”

She opened her mouth then closed it again as my phone loudly buzzed in my blazer pocket.

“Is that a social media ping or are you just happy to see me?” she asked as the waiter came to the table.

“Sorry,” I grumbled, pulling my phone out to see another missed call from my mom.

Mary asked the waiter for some kind of wine I’d never heard of, and then he left without even looking in my direction.

“A new follower?” she asked, raising her meticulously arched eyebrows.

“No, just my mom.”

“Mama’s boy?”

“Funny.”

She waved her hands. “Talk to your Mom. I really don’t mind. It’s just a meeting between two Instagram celebrities here. Maybe someone will get a picture of us, and we’ll be all over Total Celebrity Network. Be better press than I’ve had in a while,” she muttered.

“I don’t want to do that,” I said, about to put my phone back in my pocket, but it buzzed again.

Before I could press ‘ignore,' Mary’s hand was across the table, snatching the phone from my hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked, widening my eyes as she smiled, unlocking my phone and putting it up to her ear. “Chris’s phone. This is Mary.”

The smile widened on Mary’s face, showing a set of pearly white teeth that I would have found gorgeous if I wasn’t completely mortified that this woman, and client, was on the phone with my crazy mother.

“Yes. I’m out to dinner with your son now. He was just telling me we should get empanadas somewhere else.”

“Give me the phone,” I mouthed, putting my hand out.

She just leaned back in her seat, shooting a wink in my direction. “Empanadas at your house? Well if you say you make the best ones, then I’ll definitely have to try them. Abuela’s birthday party this weekend, you say? That could be fun.”

I waved my hands in the air. “Abort! Abort!”

What the hell was this chick trying to do to me? Was this payback for my snappy retorts earlier? Shit, now she had to get my mom involved.

“Okay, Mrs. Garcia. See you Saturday,” Mary said before hanging up and sliding the phone across the table.

“She was disappointed it wasn’t you at first but seems pretty stoked that you’re finally bringing a girl home for your abuela’s birthday party. What do I wear to that anyway?”

An idea struck me that there was no way in hell she could say no to at this point.

“You know, this is the perfect way to revamp your image.”

She raised an eyebrow as the waiter sat her glass of red wine down then scurried away. “What? Mexican food?”

I shook my head. “No. A fake relationship. You and me.”

She laughed, taking a sip of her wine. “Us? No one would believe that in a million years.”

“Why not? An attractive Hispanic boy from Jersey and the Manhattan princess. Everyone loves a reverse Cinderella story.”

“Are you calling yourself Cinderella?”

I shrugged. “Hey, I’m just rolling with the idea. Unless you have something better?”

“You’re the PR person.”

“And your new boyfriend,” I said with a wink, grabbing my phone and tilting it, getting a picture of her chest and wine glass.

“Did you just seriously take a picture of my tits?” she clucked.

“Watch and learn.”

I added a filter and put the photo on Instagram with the word #tapas under it.

“Now get a picture of me. Just my hands and the restaurant menu.”

She pulled her phone out of her fancy purse. “That’s weird, you know.”

“Trust me.”

She rolled her eyes before snapping a picture then I grabbed her phone, opening up her Instagram app, posting the picture with the same hashtag.

“What the hell is the point of this?” she asked with a heavy sigh.

“Just refresh your app.” I smiled, looking down at my phone to see my photo already had one-thousand likes and a lot of questions about who the girl was.

Mary eyed me skeptically before looking down at her phone. “Holy shit. Do people have nothing better to do than stare at social media?”

She faced her phone toward me with already triple my likes on her photo and questions like “whose hands?” “I love that restaurant!”

“So what happens now, Mr. Publicist slash boyfriend?” Mary raised her eyebrows.

“I say we enjoy these expensive appetizers, and then we go from there,” I said with a smirk.

“This may be the most unorthodox first date I’ve ever had,” Mary mumbled before the waiter took our orders and left with a nod and skeptical eye.

“I’ve had worse. You should see the girls my aunt has tried to hook me up with.”

“Couldn’t be worse than the guys I’ve dated,” she muttered, taking a big gulp of her wine.

Her phone buzzed, and she almost spit out her drink, covering her mouth as she held up the device. “Holy shit, my bodyguard just texted me that people are now lining up outside the restaurant, cameras, and phones in hand.”

“People? Here? And I didn’t know you had a bodyguard outside,” I said, looking behind us at the windows that, sure enough, had people staring through and a burly looking man in all black, who I swore looked familiar, holding some of them back.

“Why wouldn’t I bring my bodyguard? You never know what kind of people are hanging around. And besides, what if my first date with my new boyfriend went sour?” she said as I turned back to her.

“Okay, so I wasn’t expecting all of that to happen…with those people out there.” I tugged on my tie. I thought we’d get some social media love, but I didn’t think those people went past their computers and phones to actually show up at the restaurant.

“Please. This is how it works. You’re now famed, Instagram model. Get used to it.”

I took a sip of my water and looked in the reflection of the silverware on the table. Somehow, I got myself into one hell of a mess with a client, and if I screwed it up, I’d lose my job, my reputation, and who knew what else.

Now I just had to make sure none of that happened, for better or for worse, I was famed.