11
979 Words
“You know a woman can’t fix whatever’s wrong with your life, right?”
“d**k thinks it will.”
“What do you think?”
There’s another of his signature silences, then a heavy sigh. In a low voice, he says, “I think there are some kinds of broken that can’t be fixed. But d**k’s the only thing close to family I’ve got. I don’t wanna disappoint him.”
I remove the phone from my ear and stare at it in disbelief. He’d make a lifelong commitment just so his agent wouldn’t be disappointed in him?
That’s either the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard or the saddest.
When I don’t say anything for too long, Mason snaps back into wild boar mode. “I can hear you judging me!”
I say soothingly, “I’m not. I promise. But it does occur to me that you could find a woman all by yourself who’d be happy to go along with a sham marriage to you.”
Like quicksilver, his mood changes again. His voice grows quiet and intense. “Why? You think it would be good to be married to me?”
Dear God in heaven, I’d rather be sentenced to life in prison. “What I meant is that you’re rich and famous. The world is full of women for whom that would be more than enough. Couldn’t you just find one of them and make some sort of arrangement?”
He laughs, only this time it sounds unnerving. Dark, as if I’ve said something funny but also incredibly naïve.
“The kind of woman I’d pick would steal all my money, burn down my house, and f**k all the guys on my team. Er, sorry—screw.”
I make a face at the phone. “Forgive me for saying this, but you don’t need a matchmaker to work out that particular knot. You need a therapist.”
“Got one.”
You can’t be paying him nearly enough. “And what does he have to say about this marriage scheme?” I know it’s none of my business, but honestly, I’m fascinated.
“She. And she doesn’t know about it. Nobody does, except Dick.” Loaded pause. “And you.”
“And the candidates I sent who you talked to on the phone.”
His voice hardens. “Who all signed NDAs. Right?”
I get up from the table and start to rove around my house, because I’m feeling antsy. “Yes, of course. d**k insisted on it. Though technically, they all thought you were sincere about finding a wife.”
“I am sincere.”
“You are totally not sincere.”
“Just because I don’t want a wife doesn’t mean I’m not sincere about finding one.”
I stop wandering and stare out my living room windows into the gorgeous morning beyond. “Are you aware how insane that sounds?”
“Look, I just need you to find me a nice girl I can settle down with, okay?” “No.”
After a blistering pause, he says, “Oh. Right. You believe in love.” He says the word with so much disdain it almost drips from the phone.
This man is bad for my blood pressure.
“Yes, I do, but even more than that, I believe in honesty. You can’t build a foundation for a relationship on a lie.”
“Sure you can,” he shoots back. “People do it all the time.”
“Just out of curiosity, are you deliberately trying to make my head explode?”
Ignoring that, he says impatiently, “What if we tell the next round of girls that I’m looking for a pretend wife? We’ll be honest with them. Would that make you feel better?”
“No! I’m not matching you with any more women! And by the way, if you’re only looking for a
‘pretend’ wife, what difference does it make whether or not you have chemistry with her?” “I don’t know about you, Pink, but I can’t have s*x with someone I’m not attracted to.”
It sounds like he’s accusing me of prostitution. “I don’t have s*x with people I’m not attracted to!” “Oh, so you’re all about the lust factor, huh?”
“Wait, you just said—”
“Seems kinda superficial for someone who goes on and on about love.”
“I never mentioned anything about lust—”
“Hey, you don’t have to get huffy,” he says nonchalantly. “I’m just pointing out the double standard here. You’re getting all down on my choices, but it sounds to me like you’re the one having a bunch of meaningless s*x—”
I shout, “I’m not having s*x with anyone!”
After a beat, Mason says, “You’re celibate? Huh. Is that for religious reasons?”
I look around for something heavy to throw at the wall. Instead, I hurl myself down on the sofa and throw an arm over my eyes. “Actually, it’s because I can’t find a man who isn’t allergic to all the cats.”
I expected a laugh. Hoped for it, honestly. His laugh has been the only pleasurable thing about this entire conversation.
But all thoughts of laughter flee my head with Mason’s next words, spoken in the husky tone of a s*x line operator.
“I’m not allergic to cats.”
When I don’t respond because I’m too shocked, he says with a casual laugh, “Just kidding. I hate cats. What was it you called for again?”
If I could get my head to stop spinning, I’d tell him. But I’m flushed and breathless, and pretty sure I’ve fallen into another dimension.
Did Mason Spark just flirt with me?
- Writer
