Chapter One
“Topher.”
She glanced up and grinned. “Danny Boy!”
He pointed at the mocha she was topping with whipped cream. “Better watch that,” he warned. “You’re about to make an ugly mess.”
“Oops.” Topher pulled her finger back to avoid overflowing the cup. She popped on a plastic lid and handed it over the counter to a woman talking on her cell phone. The customer snatched the drink and turned on her heel, never pausing in her conversation.
Topher smiled at the woman’s back, showing all her teeth. “You’re welcome,” she sing-songed. “Have a nice day.”
The woman didn’t look back as she shoved the door open with her shoulder and sailed out into the sunny day.
Shrugging off her rudeness, Topher turned to Danny. “You want your usual triple shot?”
“Yep, hook me up. How’s my favorite actress disguised as a barista?” He propped a hip against the counter, giving her a blindingly white smile and his full attention, which instantly made her suspicious.
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
The surprised expression on his tan, well-moisturized face looked fake. Danny needed a few acting lessons. “I’m just interested in how you are doing, how things are going in—what neighborhood do you live in again?”
Topher made a face that only the espresso machine saw. “Don’t worry—you don’t need to know. You’ll never have to visit.”
“But I’m interested,” Danny insisted. “Have you gotten any acting jobs lately?”
She handed him his coffee. “I got a call-back for a commercial—a local furniture store. You’ve already stopped listening, haven’t you?”
“What?” He jerked his blue eyes back to her. “Of course not. Go on—that’s fascinating.”
“Never mind.”
He was the only customer at the coffee shop at that moment, so Topher grabbed a rag to wipe down the counters. Everything in the place, including her, would be covered with a film of steamed milk by the end of the day, so she used any free moment to clean.
She watched him as she worked. Danny seemed fidgety today. They weren’t close friends, but he came in for his caffeine fix almost every morning, so she was pretty familiar with how Danny acted on a normal day. Obviously, today was not normal.
Danny fiddled with his coffee, shifting his weight back and forth, and fiddled with his hair, which had been cut, colored and styled into a perfectly arranged blond mess. His young-Republican-poster-boy self was positively twitchy.
“Listen,” he finally said. “Could you sit down for a second? I have a proposition for you.”
Topher raised an eyebrow, not pausing in her cleaning. “Thanks, but you’re not really my type.” For a pretty trust-funder—and she’d known a lot—Danny seemed harmless enough, but there was no attraction on her side—none. She’d rather date a slice of unbuttered toast.
“What?” Danny looked offended. “Of course I’m your type. I’m everyone’s type. Besides, that’s not the type of proposition I was talking about. I meant a job—an acting job.”
“Uh-huh.” Although she was still skeptical, Topher couldn’t help but pause, her interest caught by the two magic words—acting and job. “You taking up directing now?”
“Nah,” he said but his eyes lit up as he considered the idea. “Although I would be a pretty kick-ass director.”
Topher just snorted.
“It’s more of a real-life type of acting,” he explained.
“Like a reality show?” she asked, her suspicions on high alert.
“Even more real-life.”
“I’m not having sex with you.” Topher went back to her cleaning. “Even if—especially if—you pay me.”
Danny’s eyes widened behind his mop of bangs. “I don’t remember asking you to.” He sounded miffed. “You seem to have sex on the brain.”
“Yeah, and most people seem to think actress and hooker are synonymous.” Turning her back on his look of offended innocence, she rinsed the washrag out in the sink.
She heard Danny give an impatient huff. “Why are we talking about hookers?” he asked. “This job has nothing to do with sex.”
Glancing over her shoulder at him, Topher asked, “So what’s the deal then?”
“Come out here and sit down.”
She hung the rag up to dry and turned to face Danny, crossing her arms over her chest. Within a few seconds, he dropped his gaze. “Or keep standing there.”
They eyed each other in silence for a long minute.
“Job,” she finally reminded him.
Glancing away, he ran his hand through his floppy mop. Topher could tell it had been expensively cut to fall in just the right state of casual disarray. Self-consciously, she tugged at the ends of her own blond locks, remembering her last home haircut attempt with two mirrors and her nail scissors.
“Hurry up, Danny—customers are going to be coming in any minute.” She glanced at the coffee shop door.
“Fine, fine. It’d be for two weeks at my uncle’s house outside of Chicago.”
Topher looked at him curiously. “Your uncle’s house? I thought this was an acting job.”
“It is.” He tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, trying to look casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “You’d be acting as my girlfriend.”
“Danny!” Fists on her hips, Topher glared at him. “Did we not just cover the ‘no sex’ thing two minutes ago?”
He threw up his hands, palms out. “No, not like that! You’d just be acting—we wouldn’t actually do...anything. Barb would kill me.”
“What? Who’s Barb?” she asked.
“My girlfriend,” Danny said, as if it were obvious.
“Your girlfriend.”
He nodded.
“Your actual, real-life girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
“I have a novel idea. Why not have your girlfriend, I don’t know, act as your girlfriend?”
“No need to get all sarcastic.”
Topher opened her mouth to tell him that it was actually an excellent time to get all sarcastic, but he spoke first.
“I need you to be a really bad girlfriend.”
“Danny, I swear that triple shot has fried your brain. What are you talking about?”
He sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair again. “It made a lot more sense in my head.”
“I bet it did.” Circling the counter, Topher pulled out a small metal chair and plopped down. “Explain.”
Lowering himself to the chair across from hers, Danny grinned hopefully. “Does this mean you’re considering it?”
“Since I have no idea what you’re babbling about, no. This means that my feet hurt and it’s only halfway through my shift. It also means that you’re taking forever to get to the point, so I figured I might as well sit down while I can.” She made a “hurry up” circle with her hand. “So?”
Looking sulky, Danny scrunched down in his chair. “Fine. You’ve seen my girlfriend, right?”
“The non-imaginary one? Barb?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think so—wait, is she the skinny redhead you’ve come in with a few times?”
Danny beamed. “That’s her! Isn’t she gorgeous?”
“Sure, whatever. So why do you need a fake girlfriend if you have the carrot-top?”
“I don’t think she would like being called that.” Danny’s grin fell away. “And the problem is my uncle. He doesn’t like her.”
Topher shrugged. “So? I don’t think my parents have liked any guy I’ve dated. You’re what—twentysomething?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Hey, me, too! Anyway, you’re an adult. You can date all the malnourished redheads you want.” Topher moved to push up from her chair.
Danny leaned forward. “You don’t understand. I don’t get my trust fund until I’m twenty-five. That’s almost three years away—if my uncle cuts me off, I could starve.”
She shrugged. “So get a job or two like all the rest of us adults. The redhead could get a job, too, and you could live together in a romantic efficiency apartment with a murphy bed and a hot plate. She doesn’t look like she’d be too expensive to feed.”
Wincing, he shook his head. “I’m in school. I can’t get a job—I have to study. And besides...”
“The redhead is used to a certain standard of living?” Topher guessed.
He looked uncomfortable. “It’s not her—it’s her parents. They have a lot of money and she’s their only child, so they’re pretty protective. I don’t think they’d take so well to the idea of their daughter dating someone who has to flip burgers to pay the rent on some crappy apartment.”
“So? Didn’t we just cover the part about you both being adults? Unless...” she said, eyeing him as a thought occurred to her. “She’s not underage, is she?”
“Of course not.” He sounded offended. “She’s older than I am.”
“Really?” she asked, interested. “How much older?”
Danny dropped his eyes to the table between them. “Five years,” he mumbled.
“Ah.” She nodded, mentally adding another five years to that number. “So what’s the deal with the parents, then?”
Glancing up through his fringe of bangs, he admitted, “I’m a little scared of her dad.”
“What—is he a big guy or something? Is he always cleaning his gun when you pick her up for a date? Has he threatened to smack you around if you take advantage of his little girl?” Topher knew she shouldn’t find the situation amusing but she couldn’t help it. She and Danny were the same age but he seemed so much younger, so filled with drama and angst.
“Or have me killed.”
Topher’s startled gaze flew to his face. “What? Are you serious?”
“Totally,” he said. “Barb’s last name is Golfini.”
“Golfini—like that mob family?”
He shook his head. “Not like—is. Her dad is Mike Golfini.”
Topher gaped at him. “Her dad is the Tiny Mike Golfini?”
“Yep.” He looked grim. “See now why I don’t want Barb’s dad pissed off at me?”
“Yeah, guess I do.” She sat back in her chair, absorbing that information. “Is that why your uncle doesn’t like Barb?”
“One reason,” he said. “He has a whole list of them. Her family, her age, her motives for dating me—as if a woman wouldn’t want to date me without my money.”
“Hmm...”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Except, have you ever considered the possibility that your uncle is right? It doesn’t seem like a good thing to worry about your girlfriend’s father killing you.”
“We love each other. This is forever. He doesn’t understand that this is the real thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very Shakespearean. How does hiring me as your fake girlfriend come into this whole thing?”
“Well,” he told her, lowering his voice despite the fact that they were still alone in the coffee shop, “I had this idea—my uncle thinks that Barb is a bad girlfriend for me, right?”
Topher shrugged. “Sure.”
“So, what if I came home for Christmas with a really bad girlfriend, someone much worse than Barb?”
“I don’t know,” she said when Danny looked at her expectantly. “You’d ruin everyone’s Christmas, including yours and Barb’s?”
It was Danny’s turn to roll his eyes. “No, stupid—it would show my uncle that Barb isn’t really as bad as he thinks. She would look golden in comparison!” He sat back, grinning with pride.
“Or it would just look like you can’t pick out a good girlfriend.” Topher pushed her chair back as she stood up. “Thanks for the job offer, but this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Wait!” Danny jumped out of his seat. “I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars. For just two weeks—whether the plan works or not.”
Topher goggled at him. Fifty thousand dollars—that was more than she’d make at both her jobs in a year.
Misunderstanding her silence, Danny upped his offer. “Fine, eighty thousand. Come on, Topher—you’re the only actress I know. Any of my friends would just mess this up.” He paused as something occurred to him. “You are a good actress, right?”
“Yeah,” she said vaguely. “I’m a good actress.” Shock held her in its grip. Eighty thousand dollars for two weeks of work, she thought, trying to wrap her mind around the concept. How could she pass this up? She could move out of the ratty apartment she shared with three other women, quit her coffee shop job, not have a coating of steamed milk on her skin at all times, leave her night job cleaning offices... She would actually have time to go to auditions—and to sleep! Firmly, she shook her head to banish the hopeful dreams. This couldn’t be possible. There had to be a catch.
“Two weeks,” she said, staring at Danny.
“Yes. The week of Christmas and New Year’s. Were you going to do something with your family?”
“No.” The holidays were a lot jollier if she avoided her parents. She got along best with them at a distance. “I just pretend to be your girlfriend?”
“That’s it.” He grinned, his eyes lighting up at the indication that she was going to agree.
Topher jumped at the jangle of the bells attached to the coffee shop door and stared at the couple walking in as if she had never seen people before. With a brisk shake of her head, she hurried around to the work side of the counter.
“Well?” Danny asked.
“Give me a day to think about it,” she told him, offering the customers the best facsimile of a smile that she could manage. “What’s your cell number—I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Looking slightly deflated, Danny handed her a card.
“What college student carries business cards?” She slipped the white square in her pocket.
“It’s good for picking up girls.” He smirked but sobered quickly. “Before I found Barb, of course.”
“Of course,” Topher said dryly and turned to the couple. “What can I get you?” She tried not to reveal how her heart was pounding with excitement. All that money for two weeks of vacation, she thought. The couple was talking, and Topher had to force Danny’s offer from her brain so she could concentrate on their order.
Eighty thousand dollars—could it be for real?
* * *
Topher cleared her throat. “So what’s my story?” she asked. Between Danny’s finals and her insanely busy work and audition schedule, they hadn’t been able to meet until a week before they were flying to Chicago. Although it pained her to miss out on the money, Topher had finally asked her coffee shop boss for the afternoon off. Meeting with Danny was part of getting the acting job, Topher told herself. It was worth the sacrifice, even if it required sitting in a pretentious juice bar across from Danny with an overpriced bottle of water in front of her.
“What do you mean?” Danny asked.
“Who am I? Where am I from? What do I do? You know, all that type of stuff,” she elaborated.
He glanced at her and then back at his smoothie, which was an unfortunate shade of brownish green. “I thought it would be easiest just to stick with the truth. You know, work at a coffee shop, wannabe actress, same name and all that. Speaking of—what’s yours?”
“Topher.”
“Got that—how about your last name?”
“Topher.”
“Really?” he asked. “I didn’t know that. So what’s your first name then—unless you’re Topher Topher?”
“I don’t tell anyone my first name.”
“That bad?” His grin faded when she just regarded him stonily. “Seriously, I need to know—we’re supposed to be dating. How is that believable if I don’t know your name?”
Topher sighed. “Fine. But only if you promise—and I mean swear on your life—that you will never call me by it. Or tell anyone, except I suppose your uncle, but you have to make him promise never to call me that, too.”
“I promise,” he said eagerly. “Now I’m dying to know—what is it?”
She mumbled something under her breath.
“What?” Danny asked. “A little louder—I didn’t hear that.”
Topher glared at him. “Coco.”
He choked. Despite her grim, narrow-eyed glower, another chortle escaped and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. After he regained minimal control over his mirth, he lowered his hand to ask, “Are you serious?”
“No, Danny. I think it’s hilarious that my mom gave me a dog name.”
He laughed again, and she reached across the table and punched him in the shoulder.
“Knock it off,” she told him. “You promised!”
“I never promised not to laugh. What was she thinking? Does your mom hate you?”
She shrugged. “No clue. When I asked her, she just told me that I have no idea how much it hurts to have a baby. She pled delirium.”
“Huh. Why don’t you have it changed?”
“Probably because I’m going to have a stage name anyway and that would be a lot of names floating around. Also, it would hurt my mom’s feelings.”
“Still, Coco Topher?” He giggled until he took a sip of his smoothie.
His wince of disgust at the taste lifted her spirits a tiny bit until she remembered the topic under discussion. “It wasn’t Topher until my stepdad adopted me when I was eight.”
“Yeah?” Danny glanced at her. “What was it before then?”
She sighed. “Brown.”
Danny was silent for several beats. “Coco... Brown.”
“Yep.”
“Coco Brown.”
“That’s my name. Don’t ever call me that again.”
He shook his head slowly while playing with his straw. Topher had a feeling that Danny wouldn’t be drinking any more of his ten dollar swamp-water smoothie. “Your mother called you, an innocent baby, Coco Brown. Yeah, she hated you.”
“Whatever—let’s change the subject. So how’d we meet?” she asked.
“Duh—I came in for coffee.” Danny flicked a balled-up napkin at her. “It’s only been like three months and you’ve forgotten already?”
“No, I mean us, the boyfriend-girlfriend us. How’d we meet?” She blocked the napkin and tossed it back, bouncing it off his forehead. Danny tried to catch it but knocked it to the floor instead. When he made no move to pick it up, Topher stared at him and then the napkin on the floor, back and forth until he finally got the message. Flushing, he picked it up and threw it in a nearby trash bin.
“I told you—I think we should stick to the facts. Coffee shop, actress, Coco Topher.” He grinned when she directed a fierce scowl at him. “It’ll be easier to remember everything if the only part we make up is the love stuff.”
“Yeah, just that little thing,” she said sarcastically, fidgeting with her water bottle, screwing the lid on and off and on again. “So the real-life me is a bad enough girlfriend to make the ginger look good?”
Danny sent her an uneasy glance. “Of course not. I’m sure you’d be a perfectly fine girlfriend.” At her raised eyebrow, he started to look hunted. “I mean, I figured the bad girlfriend thing would be the acting part.”
Topher considered that. It actually was a good idea—the more truth they told, the less likely they would be caught in a lie.
“Okay.” She saw Danny blow out a relieved breath. “That makes sense. So what else do I need to know?”
He shrugged. “My last name is McCarthy. I don’t know what else—that I’m allergic to penicillin?”
With a grin, Topher nodded. “Good to know. What’s your uncle’s name?”
“James Hawkins.”
“That sounds familiar.” Although she racked her brain, she couldn’t think of where she had heard the name before. “What business is he in again?”
Danny gave another shrug. “It’s a bunch of stuff now. Search engines, radio stations—he’s always adding different businesses in. It’s hard to keep track.”
“You just take the check and run?”
He grinned at her, not all offended. “Yep.”
“Speaking of checks...” When he didn’t react except to fiddle with his straw, Topher narrowed her eyes. “Pay up, Danny Boy.”
“Here.” He pulled his wallet from the messenger bag looped over the back of his chair. Extracting a check, he handed it to Topher.
She glanced at it and frowned. “This is for only five thousand. We agreed on half up front. Half is forty thousand. Math can be your friend, Danny.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound too apologetic. “I had some expenses. Christmas coming and all.”
“You can’t come up with forty thousand now, but you’re going to pay me eighty in three weeks?” Tapping the edge of the check on the table, Topher felt all her middle-of-the-night doubts come rushing back. She’d known it was too good to be true, but she’d already put in for those two weeks off at both of her jobs. If Danny flaked on her, January was going to be a really tight month. “Am I going to have to send the carrot-top’s dad after you?”
“I’m good for it.” Danny sounded offended, and Topher wished she had the napkin so she could flick it at his stupid face again. “Your fee is coming out of my Christmas money.”
“Your Christmas money?”
“My gift from my uncle. You know, for Christmas.” He spoke slowly, as if it was a given that everyone had an uncle who gave them huge amounts of money every holiday season.
Staring at the check, she debated calling off the whole deal. What would she lose by going to his uncle’s house, though? It would be two weeks of food and a break from living with three roommates in a tiny apartment. The five thousand would more than cover the two weeks of missed work. “Fine. You’re paying for the costumes, though.”
“Costumes?” he repeated warily.
“Costumes.” Taking a drink of her water, she gave him a devilish grin. “Who’s ever heard of an actress without costumes? Buckle up, Danny Boy. We’re going shopping.”