‘Urgh!Don’t remind me.’ Daisy’s takes one of my hands in hers, holding it as though I’m one of her little charges in need consolation after a playground tumble.
‘Oh, Heather. Faking a relationship is one thing, but turning a pretend boyfriend into reality for a day is something a little more complex.’
‘Don’t you think I know that already? Why do you think I was keeping Mr Boring Underbite around?’
‘You could fake a breakup,’ she offers with an optimistic pat. ‘A fake breakup of your fake relationship.’ Her expression twists as though trying to get her mind around her own suggestion.
‘I’d rather fake my own death and go and live in the jungle than give Haydn the satisfaction of seeing me turn up alone. I’m serious. Girls, I need a date. Preferably someone who’ll pretend to adore me for a few hours. Or at the very least, want to sit next to me for part of the night.’
‘Do you want to date?’ Daisy asks quite suddenly.
There’s a complicated answer to that question. One I can’t afford to focus on right now. ‘Let’s table that discussion for another time. I just need a date for one day—six hours tops. How hard can it be?’
‘I can ask Joe to see if he can think of anyone,’ Daisy suggests. But if there was someone, I’m sure I’d have met them in her fiancé’s friend circle by now. ‘Vee?’
Our friend shrugs, then shakes her head. Damn. I was sure if anyone could dig me out of this, it would be Vivi and her extensive social network.
‘Okay,’ she says, twisting her hair over her shoulder. ‘Let’s look at this from another angle. You need someone gorgeous to take you.’
‘But she just dated a bore with an underbite for this reason.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply, sliding Daisy an eloquent look. ‘But I don’t need gorgeous.’ Gorgeous men appear to be more trouble than they’re worth. ‘As long as he doesn’t have terrible BO and look like the back end of a donkey, I’ll be happy. I’m not fussy. In fact, I prefer a face with a little character and less wow factor, anyway.’
‘Oh, the lies we tell ourselves,’ Vivi croons. ‘I say, if you’re going to fake a boyfriend, he may as well be a knockout.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. You need a handsome man on short notice, and while you need him to gaze at you besottedly, I’m guessing you don’t want him to try to get into your underwear at the end of the night.’
‘You beginning to make this sound like an impossible job.’
‘What I’m saying is you’ll need an incentive at the very least. And that’s usually the chance of getting into your underwear, even if we can find you someone.’
‘Negatory on the knicker fumbling,’ I reply, sort of karate chopping my hand through the air.
‘Is there an open bar?’ Daisy asks, seemingly apropos of nothing.
‘At the wedding? I’d imagine so.’ Poppy, the bride-to-be, is a daughter of the kind of wealthy family that seems to think a job is something a girl does between university and marriage, and thatcareeris a grubby word. I’m also pretty sure after working with her for the last year and a half that she thinks the wordsworkandjobare not synonymous, but she left E11even a little while ago to concentrate on planning her wedding.I know; it’s like we’ve regressed to the Dark Ages or something. Maybe we should just give men clubs to knock us out and be done with it.It’s her life, I suppose. And she’s an absolute sweetheart—no one could fail to like her because she has a heart as big as her Birkin purse. I also like her more now that she’s not my assistant. Instead, I now have Emika, or Em, an eighteen-year-old intern who reminds me of myself at that age. Eager, willing, and tenacious, she even has similar taste in hair colours as mine. Well, back in the day.
‘In that case, ginger beard might be interested.’
‘Interested in what?’ Frankly, I’m confused what this has to do with beer.
‘If there’s a free bar, he might be interested in being your plus one.’
‘So not a compliment.’
‘What do you mean?’ she replies, her dark eyes innocently wide.
‘Oh, just the suggestion that I’m such a mess that I need to offer a night of free beer to get a date. Why not throw in a bucket of wings while you’re at it?’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ she qualifies, taking a dainty sip from her glass. ‘Besides, weddings usually come with food.’
‘No, I think it’s good,’ Daisy agrees, making my jaw snap shut. Then Vivi takes my other hand in hers, effectively trapping me between my two friends.
‘Darling, no man in his right mind would need inducement to take you on a date, provided you were inclined. And on your best behaviour.’
‘I’m not a child, Vee. I’m just not very good at being hit on.’ And that’s the truth. When men try to chat me up, I turn into a shrew.
