Page 13 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

She opens her eyes. “You can deal pussy, but I can’t get whacked?” She stands like she’s offended and moves to the minibar. She selects an energy drink and snaps shut the fridge door.

“You know I have not been dealing pussy. It was a bad joke,” I say, scowling.

“But why not?” Her arm swings in grand gestures. “You’re officially single. Why not go out and have fun? Deal the cat, whack the bush, let someone new burrow in the bunny hole. Now that would make Roman jealous!” She pops the can’s top and takes a swig before pouring the rest into her pineapple drink.

Shaking my head, I say, “That would be lying.”

“Says the woman who lied about having a boyfriend.” Mom rolls her eyes.

“Then, then, that would be sneaky.”

“The rules of decency were tossed the moment Roman started dating your vile stepsister. I don’t care if you were divorced and you hadn’t seen her since she was in diapers.” She places a hand on her hip.

“She’s not my stepsister,” I grumble.

We were simply two kids forced to coexist in a blended household for a few years. When my dad and her mom went their separate ways, we became strangers again. Until now. Now Sophia is my sworn enemy.

“Nathan’s an innocent bystander,” I say, changing the subject.

Mom harrumphs. “Sounds like he’s a willing participant.”

I guess he is.

I tap my lip and consider her terrible idea. The more the scenario plays in my mind, the stronger a strange palpitation in my heart grows. And the longer I think on it, the more the beats start pounding to the sound of revenge.

Earlier, Roman suggested I’d never find another guy. Even though he claims he doesn’t care, I’m certain he wouldn’t be able to see straight if I were with someone else.

Images of Roman’s face in this enticing scenario fill my mind. Perhaps this date with Nathan has potential.

Something inside pivots. I roll on my stomach and trace the seashell pattern on the comforter, slowly getting comfortable with the idea.

Groveling and crying clearly aren’t working. If anything, my antics have pushed Roman further away. Perhaps it’s time to try something new. What if one date with Nathan changes everything? At this point, I have nothing to lose.

“If I wanted to go on a fake date with Nathan, would you have anything I can wear?” I ask.

8/

jeanie

Whacking Off Celery Sticks

The next morning, wrapped in a new hotel robe, I slip through the adjoining door and into Mom’s room. I stop in my tracks and rub the sleep from my eyes.

“You booked a penthouse?”

My gaze roams the space with high ceilings, tall windows, multiple bedrooms, and a massive veranda facing the ocean. The east-facing doors are open, causing the white sheers to rustle in the warm breeze. Waves crash in the distance.

“How often do we get to Miami?” Mom appears, teetering on platform sandals, looking like a mermaid in a teal-colored swimsuit with a full neck of pirated jewels.

“Almost every year to attend the National Restaurant Expo,” I say, reminding her.

“True. But do we ever come for vacation? Divorce is a special occasion. I thought we’d celebrate.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and totters away.

“Then why am I in the small room?” I ask.

“Don’t start, you two.”

Dex chimes in with a parental tone from behind the counter of a full-size professional kitchen. He’s preparing breakfast. Freddie leans on the island, focused on his phone.