Chapter 3
Three
SUMMER
“Men like me are single for two reasons.” In the seat across from me, my client flicks his fingers up. “High standards and higher purpose.”
I swallow another chunk of bread and try to force a smile, nod, and tune him out.
At this rate, I’ll finish my entree before he’s taken more than five bites of his.
I’ve already inhaled the entire basket of bread, which Michael refused to touch because carbs are apparently the mortal enemy of the six-pack.
Michael Hunt hasn’t stopped talking about himself since we sat down in the dimly lit restaurant.
Plus One pays for dates with clients, which is a relief because I’m pretty sure Michael is the type of man who would drag a woman to the most expensive restaurant in town and insist on splitting the check, or worse, claim he “forgot” his wallet at home.
After a solid thirty minutes of endless chatter about his firm in an unspecified industry, alleged multi-six-figure salary, and perennial bachelor status, he’s managed to evade answering why he needed to hire a fake girlfriend—my question that kicked off his monologue.
Plus One isn’t exactly my dream job. While the majority of my dates are fun and revolve around petty revenge, the others are draining.
Between men like Michael who think they’re the universe’s gift to women and the men who ask if I want to head back to their place, I’m not sure how much longer the hefty paycheck will feel worth it.
“Our society is so backwards. Men are supposed to impress women, but it should be the other way around.” Michael’s gaze scans the tables and faces around us as he chews his salmon open-mouthed.
Thank god he’s not looking at me because I can’t help rolling my eyes as I bite back a retort to his misogynistic rant.
In my lap, my phone buzzes and I read the text while Michael is distracted by leering at a waitress. No wonder this man needs a fake girlfriend.
Hazel
How’s the date?
I glance at Michael, who is still blessedly distracted, and quickly type back a response.
Summer
How are your surgical skills? I think I’ll need a lobotomy after this one.
I called Hazel this morning after Noah showed up to clean the bathroom.
As expected, he forgot the whole night when I texted him to ask if he was on his way.
But he showed up ten minutes later with cleaning supplies, a toolbox, and a sheepish grin.
His hair was just as tousled as it was last night, but he somehow seemed inches taller without the drunken slouch to his shoulders.
At least he doesn’t remember my embarrassing, tipsy confession. Alcohol warped my sense of rationality last night. Wine coolers only from now on.
Noah made quick work of my bathroom, gagging the whole time, and I found him giving my bookshelf in the living room a glance as I headed out the door before he followed me.
When he waved goodbye, my stomach stupidly dipped in disappointment. He didn’t flirt or ask to see me again as he headed back to his friend’s place. I shouldn’t want a man who broke into my apartment to be interested in me. Even without the haze of alcohol, I’m still reckless and irrational.
But he’s not interested, and now the whole debacle is over. My bathroom is cleaner than before he showed up, my front door is fixed, and I have a wild story to tell at parties.
Hazel
Then I’ll become a surgeon. How hard can it be?
Did you finish your commission yet?
Summer
It’s been on pause for a few days. I’ve been so busy with work.
Hazel is a full-time artist, and frankly, living my dream.
We met online about a year ago when I started my art account, and we’ve actually only met in person once.
Mom planned a girls’ trip for the two of us to Cape Cod, and Hazel was in Boston at the time, so she joined us for a few days.
Mom fell in love with her immediately, and so did I.
Her nomadic lifestyle means she’s never in one place for long, but I hope we can spend some time together in person again soon.
When I started my art account, she was one of the few artists with a large platform who followed me back.
She has over a hundred thousand followers on social media now, and she’s booked out for a full year with commissions from authors, publishers, and book boxes.
She draws the most stunning character art, her work has been featured on multiple book covers, and her not-safe-for-work sketches have literally made me blush.
She’s worked her ass off to get here, and she’s incredibly talented.
Hazel deserves every bit of the success she’s found, and I try to remind myself of that whenever I see her reveal another commission that gets thousands of likes and a flood of praising comments.
But I can’t help the flicker of jealousy that gnaws at me.
If I was making that kind of money, I could easily transition my art from a side hustle to my full-time job.
Nothing would make me happier than getting to draw character art and design covers for my favorite authors.
To be involved in the process of creating stunning special editions with interior art and gorgeous sprayed edges.
I know Hazel has admitted to deleting negative comments about her art, but she’s able to shrug them off while the criticism I’ve received haunts me every time I’m about to post my latest completed commission.
Even though I’ve gotten praise and encouragement from plenty of readers and authors, I brace myself for the new negative comments I’ll get.
Somehow, the negative voices always stick in my brain more than the positive.
According to Hazel, I’ll never make enough to go full-time if I don’t raise my rates and stop devaluing my art, but I’m just not sure my art is worth more.
Hazel
Not to fearmonger, but aren’t you worried about being stalked or kidnapped or something by one of your dates? Any psychopath could access the app and hire you.
At last, Michael’s gaze returns to me. Which is unfortunate, because his leer falls to my chest. “So. What other services do you offer?”
Plus One explicitly states that the app doesn’t facilitate sex work, but I still get the occasional date who either didn’t bother reading the rules in bold font or actively chooses to ignore them.
I sigh and swing my purse over my shoulder. “Have a good night, Michael.”
When I stand to weave my way out of the restaurant, he grumbles something behind me, but I pull out my phone and keep going. He’ll probably give me a poor rating on the Plus One app as soon as I step out of the restaurant, but I can do the same to him and at least he won’t ever hire me again.
I type another message to Hazel.
Summer
Going to buy pepper spray right now.