1
Tiffany’s POV
“This is so good,” my date said, stuffing his mouth full with chocolate muffins. “Have a to-go order ready for me, will you babe?”
I gritted my teeth and nodded with my head down. I was too ashamed to look up and discover the number of café patrons staring at his embarrassing behavior.
He has no knowledge of table manners, or anything else either, but he won’t shut up.
It was taking every ounce of my patience not to perform an emergency tracheotomy on him just to make him stop talking.
His name was Kevin. He was a second-tier fitness influencer, wore a linen shirt unbuttoned one notch too far, and possessed the emotional intelligence of a dust rag.
“So, Tee,” Kevin said, leaning forward and flashing a blindingly white, veneered smile. “Let me get this straight. We show up to your cousin’s wedding on the twenty-third. I wear a tailored tux, which you’re funding, obviously, and I talk about how my lifestyle brand is about to hit five million followers. That’ll really shut down your ex, right?”
I took a slow, deep breath, trying to keep my temper.
“First of all, Kevin, my name is Tiffany. Second, the goal isn’t to promote your supplement line. The goal is for you to pass as a respectable, intelligent human being who is genuinely devoted to me, so my family stops treating me like a disgraced pariah.”
“Right. I can do that.” He burped loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth, a passing waitress frowned in disapproval. I reddened in shame.
“They’re treating you like that because of the photo leak thing right?,” he continued biting into another muffin, “Honestly, babe, you shouldn’t even be embarrassed. Controversy sells. I’m sure you know that, that’s why you leaked them in the first place.”
“I did not leak them.” I said firmly, looking him in the eye.
He continued like I hadn’t spoken.
“Besides , the pics weren’t bad at all. From what I saw, you have a hot body. I hope you’ll let me find out if I’m right.” He leered at me.
I’d had enough.
“Check, please,” I called, raising two fingers toward the waiter.
“Wait, we haven’t even ordered dessert!” Kevin blinked, looking genuinely shocked. “Does this mean I didn’t get the gig? Come on, babe. Okay I can tone down the influencer stuff! I’ll even let you pretend you bought my watch!”
“Kevin,” I said, my voice icy. “If you don’t walk out of this restaurant in five seconds, I’m going to detail every single health violation present in your ‘wellness’ supplement lineup and post it on LinkedIn. Now get out.”
He shot out of his chair like it had nails, grabbed his folder, and scrambled out so fast he nearly tripped over the valet stand.
I sighed heavily and slumped back against the booth, rubbing my temples as a headache bloomed behind my eyes.
Another disastrous audition. The third to be exact, and they kept getting worse. I’d have to stop before the next one would send me to jail for manslaughter.
What was I thinking? This whole fake boyfriend thing was a bad idea. But when my friend Rosie had suggested hiring an actor off a gig app, I’d been so desperate I’d accepted. It wasn't going according to plan.
I'd have to go alone to the wedding.
I cringed. The thought of walking into Fred and Penny’s wedding alone, while the entire family whispered behind their champagne glasses terrified me.
I won’t survive the humiliation, and they’d really make sure to rub it in.
But not going would be worse. They would humiliate me with that too.
My head was heavy with the weights of my conflicting thoughts as I drove back to work. I was late. I hated being late, and it annoyed me to realize I was late because I’d been entertaining a clout-chasing narcissist who saw my deepest public trauma as a content opportunity.
I shook my head in disgust.
“Don’t give up Tiffany. They has to be a way.” I told myself.
But by the time I drove into the car park, I still
had no answers. Then to crown the worst afternoon ever, I heard someone calling my name.
My heart sank as I recognized that voice of doom.
