Celebrity…
Ilook at my phone, and I’m annoyed. Ken hasn’t reached out more than a couple of texts telling me that he’s been busy with his new store, but he promises to text me later.
Then doesn’t.
Thankfully, my Celebrity date is here to distract me. I’m about done with these dates, and I vow to never let Mona have access to my phone ever again. This is just getting ridiculous.
Wade B. claims to be a celebrity, but I don’t recognize him from his profile picture. Without last names, it’s difficult to research too much.
The only celebrities I found online that match his name were Wade Boggs and Wade Barrett. One is a nearly seventy-year-old baseball player my brother was obsessed with, and the other is a forty-something former WWE wrestler.
But that’s not to say I didn’t search for smaller, lesser-known celebrities. I don’t know of any influencers named Wade, but I’m not big on following anyone on social media who isn’t a singer, actor, or someone I personally know.
We decided to meet at a coffee shop, and when I see a man crouched down with a Yankees cap pulled low, I assume it’s him. When I approach, he seems nice enough—at the very least, he seems harmless.
We walk up to the front, and he keeps his voice low. “Coffee. Black. Name’s Wade. And yes, I’m that one. But keep it quiet.”
The barista looks at me, and I just shrug. He may be harmless, but I think he’s going to be annoying.
Thanks, Mona.
“I’ll take a vanilla latte,” I say. “Thank you.”
Wade pulls out a leather wallet and pays with cash. Points for chivalry. I didn’t have to pay for his coffee.
We wait in awkward silence, his hand up and blocking his face from view of the front door. I don’t know if an actual celebrity in the world acts this way.
The coffees are called, and we walk back to the table in the corner. He won’t meet my eyes, so I decide to jump right in.
“So, what made you join Fairy Tale?”
“I figured I’d give it a shot. You know, see if I can find a lasting relationship rather than random hookups with groupies.”
Groupies? “Does that happen often?”
He gapes at me like I just asked if coffee is hot. “Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“I’m just hoping no one recognizes me here. If they do, we’ll be swarmed!”
Slouching down, he pulls the brim of his hat even lower as he shies away from the window. The window he chose to sit in. But he acts as though paparazzi will burst through and surround us with blinding flashes at any minute.
“Holly?”
I turn and see Ken by the counter. “Excuse me, Wade. I’ll be right back.”
“Didn’t know you were a celebrity of coffee shops,” Wade grumbles as I stand.
Yeah… this isn’t giving him what he thinks it is.
“What are you doing here?” Ken asks as I get to the counter. “Is this another date?”
I chuckle and roll my eyes. “Kind of. Mona—”
“So, you’re not just dating three of us? You’re still dating around on that stupid dating app?”
The bite in his tone hits me like a sucker punch. “If you’d just let me explain—”
“And you bring him to one of my coffee shops,” he cuts me off and shakes his head. “This is just great. Real classy.”
“I didn’t know this was yours,” I say. “I’ve only been to the Bean Shop. I assumed you were opening another location, not a whole new store.”
“You expect me to believe you didn’t do this on purpose? That you weren’t trying to hurt me?”
Blinking, I can only stare at him. Is he serious? He claimed he wanted a future with me, but I’m the one reaching out to communicate. I’m the one trying to connect. And he thinks I’d go out of my way to be cruel?
“What would be the point of that? To make you angry? How would this benefit me?” I ask.
“To make me jealous.”
That makes me snort. “You have nothing to be jealous over with that guy. He—”
“Is someone else you’re going to take to bed?”
If he wanted to hurt me, mission accomplished. “Excuse me?”
“After this, are you going to his house, let him seduce you with his cooking and dancing before stripping out of all your clothes for him? Or will you play coy and make him wait for the second date?”
He’s the one who wanted to wait that first night—which was the right decision—but now I’m suddenly a tease? “That’s not fair.”
“Are you sleeping with the others you date, too?”
Not just a tease but easy, too. Great. “What I do—or don’t do—with anyone else is none of your business. Just like what we do—or don’t do—isn’t anyone else’s business. And we aren’t exclusive, Ken.”
“Yeah, and I don’t think we will be.”
He won’t even listen. And I get it. He’s angry. But if he’d just let me explain the story behind this date, he’d laugh. Instead, he’s made up his mind.
“You know, I think that’s probably the best outcome here. I don’t appreciate being called a whore, and if you’re not willing to listen to me, then there’s nothing here to build a relationship out of. Bye, Ken.”
I walk back to the table while he disappears into the back. My heart races, but now there’s only Decker left in the running. And I’m not sure if he’s actually serious about me. He says all the right things, but it’s hard to forget how just months ago, he had a different girl every night.
“Who was that?” Wade asks, nodding towards the counter.
“An ex,” I say. “So, tell me about yourself.”
I’m not leaving just to appease Ken after he tried to paint me as some type of hussy who gives it away to every man I meet. He can watch this on the security cameras I know are positioned in every corner around here.
Wade talks about himself like an audition reel. The more he talks, the more familiar it sounds—not only because of my brother but because I read all of this online last night.
“I bat left but throw right, which gives me a total advantage over others. I played for the Red Sox before being traded to the Yankees. Then I went to the Rays.”
“Then why are you wearing a Yankees hat instead of a Rays hat?” I ask.
He chokes on his coffee. “My hits record is over three thousand.”
“Do you really expect me to believe your last name is Boggs?”
“I knew you recognized me. You’re not a groupie, are you? I’ll sign something for you, but—”
“You’re about forty years too young to be Wade Boggs, you know that right?”
His eyes widen. “Um, that’s—”
“You don’t have groupies or baseball fanatics approaching you. Have you even played baseball? What are you? Twenty-six? How could you have over three thousand hits?”
“How do you—”
“My brother’s an actual baseball fan. Went to college on a baseball scholarship. Trust me, I know more about the sport than you ever will. You’re pathetic.”
My anger at Ken seeps over into my interaction with Wade—which probably isn’t even his real name—and I feel a tinge of guilt. Just a tinge.
I stand and walk out without looking back. It was one thing when people were pretending to be mythical creatures, but now people are pretending to be celebrities twice their age. And there are probably gullible people who will believe it.
This app also ruined my relationship with Ken. Although, did it really ruin it? Or did it help show his true colors?
Either way, I’m done with both Ken and the app. I can’t do this anymore.