The scent of whiskey and expensive cologne lingers on me like a bad kiss. Trudging out of the downtown Atlanta skyrise, I try to ignore the disapproving stares from the staff. Everything feels a little too raw after a weekend playing pretend. Worn a little too thin from acting. But that’s also the best part. Being someone else, being desired, being wanted because they can’t have me. No one can.
Warm, muggy air slaps me in my face, a stark difference from the frozen air-conditioning of the fancy building I just exited. Pulling my weekend bag a little higher up on my shoulder, I walk a few blocks until I’m sure I’m alone. Never know with fake boyfriends. Sometimes they want to keep me so badly that their brains go decidedly wonky and decide to follow me.
It’s happened a few times. Enough to put me on edge. Forever.
The Boyfriend Experiencesaved me in a lot of ways. When I hate myself a little too much, I spend a few days pretending to be someone else. Fake boyfriend Trevor is perfect and lovely. Fake boyfriend Trevor has noissues.Trevor is the perfect clean slate of a human just ready to be what anyone dreams for the rightprice. Escort Trevor can be too. Trevor will be anything if the dollars stack up enough.
Which is exactly why my job works so well for me. Most of the time. Playing pretend makes it easier for me to shut off the parts of my brain that sometimes yell too loud. The meanest parts of my brain.
The ride to the clubhouse is quick despite the congested downtown Atlanta traffic. The driver is thankfully silent, because I don’t think I could take idle chitchat after the past few days at the stuffy penthouse. Giving the driver a hefty tip, I hop out of the car to stride into the high-rise with a little pep in my step. Everything is about appearances. If I sell it well enough, no one will ever questionwhatI’m selling.
“Hey, Scott.” I shoot the sweet older security guard a wicked grin, and inch my way towards the elevator.
Scott eyes me carefully. “Trevor. Coming from a job?”
I salute him with a teasing wink. “Three days. Heading up to see Claire now. Are the other boys upstairs?”
Scott nods, then lets his gaze return to the front entrance. “‘See you on the way out.”
Sending a wave over my shoulder, I swipe my badge to enter the elevator. I lean against the wall with a relieved sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose to hopefully avoid a migraine. Fifteen floors are all I’ve got to get my shit together. Shaking my arms out, I paste a grin on my face, just in time for the doors to slide open toThe Boyfriend Experienceheadquarters. Aptly nicknamed the clubhouse. Basically, the place is an entire office floor dedicated to the four of us and Claire, along with her assistant, Davis.
White marble floors, white walls, colorful art pop accents, and the sound of my best friends laughing is enough to calm my frayed nerves. A very particular giggle has my lips twitching upin a smile. Bypassing the main room echoing with laughter, I head back towards Claire’s office.
“Boss lady!” I shout, putting on my most panty-melting, charming smile.
Claire aims a death glare my way. “What did you do?”
I blink slowly at her, hoping to project total innocence. “Nothing?”
She huffs while tapping her perfectly manicured nails against her pristine desk. “When you call me ‘boss lady,’ usually you’ve fucked up.”
“That’s a Pavlovian response you’ve got there.”
A laugh escapes her, despite her clearly wanting to be annoyed with me. I pop my hip and lean against her desk, grinning sweetly down at her. Claire saved my ass years ago. I’d left home with nothing to my name. We’d grown up together in the rich upper crust of Manhattan, but she’d fled out of state for college. Family life hadn’t been good for her either. When I needed a place to land, there wasn't any other option but Claire.
New life, new Trevor, new everything. Thanks to Claire.
Another loud laugh makes me look over my shoulder, but Claire’s office impedes my view.
“I’ve got another job for you,” Claire says while carefully handing me her tablet.
Sweet. The email is already pulled up on the screen for my review.
Name: Beau Callahan
Age: 36 years old
Kinks: Uhm… I don’t really have any. I’ve been told I’m a romantic at heart.
Sex included in boyfriend experience: I don’t think so
Length of time: three days in July for my sister’s wedding
Lodging: My house in Florida
Comments:Hi… I’m not too good with words. But I’m reaching out to hire a fake boyfriend for my sister’s wedding. My dad is sick, and this is my sister’s big day. Everyone’s on me about bringing a date. I don’t want to detract attention from her day. I want to hire a fake boyfriend to be on my arm, support me, and make the day as good as he can. Bonus points if he likes the silent type.
Seems pretty to the point. Weddings are actually some of my favorite experiences. Most people are happy when they attend a wedding. Happy people at weddings have less chances of people being awful little shits. And Ihateawful little shits. But the guy seems a little boring. Usually, I get the kinkier johns. The ones that want to call me a slut or enact some weird fantasy that could probably land them onDatelineif they aren’t careful.
