CHAPTER SEVEN
Hendrix
M arry for money.
Marry for pretend.
Marry to help him publicly, that then eases my financial burdens.
It’s a no-brainer, right? He’s hot as hell. He lives a lavish lifestyle that no doubt I’d never get a chance or pretend to live in otherwise. He purposely picked me.
Oh, and there’s one other thing—the Fuck You, Paul —component of this. I’ve never met a pettier person than Paul Flanders, and I have no problem showing him that I can lower to his level.
You want to cheat on me with a waitress from Applebee’s? Well, I can move on with Gizmo from BENT who’s a thousand times better than you.
But that’s bravado talking. The bluster and the ego, but fear is present too. A very real fear of why the fuck am I even entertaining this crazy idea ?
To save your dream.
To build your business.
To further screw Paul since his parting words were that my cookie business was a pipe dream that would never amount to anything.
I reach for the conference room door, but hesitate, needing one second more. I have so many questions, so many conflicting emotions, so much everything and none of it makes sense.
This isn’t me. The spontaneous, color outside of the lines person tempted to say yes. So why am I in fact, tempted?
“See? I told you she was cool,” Jase’s voice comes through the door. “We’re chill. And the woman can bake.”
I hold my breath, as if they can hear me breathing, and decide to wait another minute and eavesdrop. Nothing is beneath me right now.
“What am I missing, Giz?” Nathaniel asks. “She’s not your type—clearly by the amount of clothes she has on alone.”
“Hilarious.”
“From what I can tell, she’s intelligent... Wait—did you do something to her that you’re trying to pay her off for?”
“You think so little of me.”
“Fine. I’ll ask it. Did you sleep with her, then?” Nathaniel asks.
“Nope. Not even on my radar. The prissy, preppy ones aren’t my type. You know that.”
I open my mouth to object, to argue, to what? Defend myself because I’m preppy and heard a comment I wasn’t supposed to hear?
And why are my feelings hurt over something I know to be true? I’m a Type A, follow the rules, everything has to be planned girl.
Not to mention, I’m most definitely not the type who I saw on Jase’s arm in the photos I looked at last night. Nowhere near the beauty or perfection of the women he’s supposedly dated in the past.
This is a business contract. A mutually beneficial agreement. Which does beg the question... will this be believable?
Maybe I needed to overhear this conversation. Maybe I needed to get my feelings hurt as a reminder of what not to make this into—anything other than a business transaction.
With a renewed vigor and my head firmly in the right place, I open the door and walk back into the conference room. “So am I not allowed legal representation for this conversation?”
Both of their heads whip my way, expressions startling either over my question or fear they were overheard. I’m not sure which. “You don’t trust us?”
I chuckle, suggesting bravado I don’t feel. “That’s like asking a sheep if she trusts the wolves surrounding her.” I look from one to the other and back and cringe because I know I don’t have the funds to hire a lawyer. Hell, I don’t even have the funds to make it through the end of the month. And yet at the same time, it’s important for them to know I’m not so desperate for money that I’m overlooking any obvious things.
What those are? Who knows.
“Fair.” Nathaniel nods. “Would you like to call someone?”
He’s called my bluff and now I’m going to have to admit that there’s no one for me to call. The only lawyer I know is one of Paul’s friends and... well, fuck you, Paul .
I take my time taking a seat, clasp my hands in front of me, meet their eyes, and say what I’ve seen people say in movies. “I have demands.”
Gizmo lifts his eyebrows and fights a smile. He opens his clasped hands and invites me to speak. “I’d love to hear them.”
Think quick, Hendrix.
“I have a huge order to fill. Cookies. I can’t miss that deadline. I promised I’d deliver, and I’m only as good as my word.”
“Okay. We’ll make sure to give you the time you need to do that and organize whatever we need around that,” Nathaniel says.
“And clothing. To look the part. I’m not talking Versace or whoever’s the popular designer of the moment, but rather just a few upscale basics. All of my clothes are covered in flour or look like an apron.” I smile and shrug. “I’m assuming you want someone to represent you properly on the public stage. The last thing I’d want to do is embarrass you with my Target- and Macy’s-budgeted wardrobe.”
“Reasonable. You’ll have a shopping allowance,” Jase says. “But for the record, you look great and don’t knock Target or Macy’s. I like their shit.”
I appreciate him trying to make me feel better, but no doubt that threadbare shirt he’s wearing cost more than my car payment.
“Like I said, just for basics. A little black dress. Some high heels since I don’t own a pair. And whatever else you think I need to look the part for whatever appearances I’d need to accompany you to.”
“Probably all of them,” Nathaniel says, causing Jase to raise his eyebrows. Clearly, he wasn’t warned of that particular detail—or was and doesn’t like it. “What else?”
“I—uh—what is the rule on...” My cheeks heat as I stare at a man more gorgeous than I remember and recall the feel of his lips near my ear. “The physical.” I feel like there’s peanut butter on my tongue, making it hard to say those two words.
“This isn’t Pretty Woman , Miss Wright. The exchange of money for your companionship and public appearances is in no way indicative of requiring sex. My client here is capable of keeping his hands to himself. With that said, there will be times when it’s appropriate to share some affection—a kiss perhaps, holding hands, sitting on his lap at a party. Friendly and intimate ‘gestures’ for both the press and the public to buy that you are, in fact, his wife.”
Great. Perfect. Even better.
Oh my God.
“Okay.” My voice is barely a whisper and I dare not look in Jase’s direction. If I do, I’ll either burst out in a nervous and inappropriate giggle or avert my gaze due to embarrassment. “I took drama in high school. I can do the pretend kiss thing. Easily .”
“Easily,” Jase mimics me with that crooked smirk.
Yes, I looked at him. I looked even when I had no intention of doing so, and now we’re locked in that strange staring contest that stirs things inside me—sweet aches and slow burns—when I’m not his type .
Not to mention, he is not my type. Clearly. Be kind to yourself, Hendrix . This has nothing to do with types and everything to do with money.
“I don’t facilitate payments for sex,” Nathaniel says.
“And I don’t need to pay anyone for sex,” Jase adds.
“I doubt you do,” I say and roll my eyes as his grin widens. “So, no sex. But this is fake, right? So does that mean no having sex with other people while we’re ‘married?’”
“Correct,” Nathaniel says.
“Come on now,” Jase groans. “Celibate for four whole months?”
“If I have to be sexually frustrated, Mr. Gizmodo, then you do too,” I snap at him.
“Mr. Gizmodo?” He nods. “Is that what you’re going to say when you’re mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you. I just think it’s presumptive to assume that you’re the only one who has needs. If I have to resist the urge, then so do you.”
“Point well made,” Nathaniel says.
“Besides, I’m doing you the favor here. I’d rather not be humiliated on a public stage that I’m so horrible in bed, my husband of less than four months can’t keep it in his pants.”
“Who told you that you were horrible in bed?” Jase asks, missing everything else I said.
“No one,” I lie, thinking of Paul and the zingers he landed in that final fight. God, they’ve done a number on my self-esteem. “I said it merely to make a point.”
But Jase holds his glance longer than he should, and that tells me he just might have seen right through me.
And that’s unnerving on so many levels.
“You can call me Gizmo. Or Jase. Not Gizmodo,” Jase says.
“He hates Jase,” Nathaniel chimes in.
“Not when she says it,” Jase says, which has his brother looking at him with a curious expression.
“I’ll expect the blood tests showing you’re clean as well.”
“I don’t do drugs,” Jase says.
“I wasn’t talking about drugs.” My smile is short but pointed.
Jase sputters out a cough. “I don’t have any sexually transmitted diseases.”
“Great. Then it won’t be hard to get that to me.” I shrug. “I’ll provide the same. It seems only fair seeing as you want me to live with you.”
“Very fair,” Nathaniel says as Jase glares at him.
“This conversation is something else,” Jase murmurs like he’s a bystander when he’s the main subject.
“When it comes to the press... that terrifies me,” I admit.
“Understandably. We’ll keep interaction with them to a minimum. You’re newlyweds who want your privacy. I’d suspect that your business might get a little busier than normal. We’ll get a security guard stationed there to help you keep the crazies at bay and to keep you safe.”
“A security guard?” I bark out a laugh.
“Yes. Trust me on this,” Nathaniel says. “Granted we agree to each other’s terms, we’ll instate him tomorrow morning.”
“It’s not necessary—”
“It is. Just as a prenup is that you’ll have to sign along with the contract stating you forfeit any legal claim to his property, wealth, and assets during and after the forgone failure of the marriage,” Nathaniel says.
“Of course. What ridiculous person would assume they’d have any rights to it?”
“You’d be surprised,” Jase says.
“Then there are the events you’ll attend with Gizmo.”
Events? Of course. He’s a celebrity. The pictures I studied of him last night flash in my mind. Oh my God. That means I’ll forever be on the internet linked with him like those other women were. “Like?”
“We’ll get you a list but there won’t be many. You’re a woman who happened to fall in love with a drummer. We’ll play the narrative to the press that you’re very private and prefer to keep your life and your relationship as such.”
“That will only fuel people’s curiosity,” I say.
“We’ll figure out a happy medium. Maybe an interview to give them enough insight to back off. I’ll talk with his team about it,” Nathaniel says.
“Okay. It’s only fair that Jase attends some of my engagements as well,” I say.
Jase coughs into his hand in laughter. “Sure. Fine. Aunt Judy’s christening? Little Ezra’s bar mitzvah? What are we looking at?”
“We’re looking at you valuing my time and life and obligations as much as I’m to value yours. Just because you have platinum records framed on a wall somewhere doesn’t make you more important than I am.”
“No one said it did,” Jase says solemnly, almost as if he didn’t realize his teasing could hurt my feelings.
“And no, I’m not talking backyard picnics with Grandpa Bob, but if this is to be believed, you have to integrate yourself into my life too. No one respects a woman who gives up everything they’ve worked for and are working for because they fall in love with a superstar.”
“Savvy, beautiful, and self-assured.” Jase lifts a brow. “I like it.”
“Your flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere,” I say. I know it already has . I’m here entertaining this, aren’t I?
“What else?” Nathaniel redirects.
“Will anyone else know the truth? Like, I can’t let my family know, can I?”
“I’m sorry, no,” Nathaniel says directly. “I understand it’s hard to lie to family, but all it takes is one slip, one I told Sally and she won’t tell anyone and then Jase is in trouble with the judge and the whole purpose of this charade is nullified.”
“But my bandmates will know,” Jase states, causing Nathaniel to whip his head toward him. “What? They have to. They’ll see right through this bullshit if not. It’s... I trust them with my life.”
I don’t know the brothers well enough to make assumptions on the look between them, but if I did, it would be hurt. That those words Jase just spoke, hurt his brother.
Nathaniel gives a curt nod, but I can see him struggling to allow this.
“And you pay the taxes,” I add.
“What?” Nathaniel’s voice sounds surprised.
“My net is fifty thousand a month. You’re responsible for the taxes in however you want to cover them. This is California. That fifty would soon be twenty-five, and that’s nowhere near enough if you want me to sell this lie like the best of them.”
Nathaniel blows out a long, low whistle. “Miss Wright, you came to play.”
“No. I know my worth.” The comment is matter-of-fact and complete false bravado, but I don’t see them noticing.
“Noted, understood, and agreed to.”
I fight the gasp that wants to come out. Why was that so easy ?
“Anything else?” Jase asks.
“There are a million more things that I’m sure I’m not thinking of but... I’m a little overwhelmed,” I say.
“So that means you need to go home and think about it?” Nathaniel asks, clearly unhappy that I didn’t just jump at the chance.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Can I ask you a question?” Jase asks.
“Of course.”
“Why would you say yes?”
I chuckle nervously. “Other than the money and you’re going to help me save my dream?”
“Yes, other than that.” Jase’s voice is quiet. Curious.
“Because . . . fuck Paul Flanders.”
“Who?” Jase snorts.
“My ex.”
“Okay.” He draws the two syllables out. “Explain.”
“You’re everything he isn’t.” Of all of the things I’ve said in this room over the past hour, that’s the most honest of all of them.
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or a slight,” he says.
“Neither do I,” I say quietly.
“Well shit, we’re starting this off with a bang,” he jokes.
“Don’t you believe all relationships should be based on the truth?” I fire back.
“I do. I think.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms with a shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t exactly do relationships.”
“Then how is this one supposed to be believable?” I ask.
“You’re the girl next door— baker next door. Grounded. Settled.”
“Boring,” I state.
“Normal,” he corrects.
Normal . That word is like a knife to the heart, reminding me of Paul’s bullshit and “hard truths” that he thought I should know about why he had to cheat on me.
There’s no spontaneity. Everything is even-keel all the time. Normal as normal can be and normal is the death of any person wanting to live life. You were killing me, Hendrix. Little by little. Day by day. This blah we lived in was killing me. God forbid she made me feel alive again.
I shake the words from my head, but hell, they still taste acrid on my tongue.
Fuck you, Paul.
“This was your idea? To ask me?” I ask Nathaniel, my voice wavering.
“No.” He lifts his chin toward his brother. “It was his.”
I look from Nathaniel to Jase. To a man who’s truly the opposite of everything I’ve ever liked or desired. And I do something that I think surprises the both of us.
I reach across the table, pull the contract that Nathaniel had set out earlier, and sign on the dotted line.
“Wow. Okay. What prompted that?” Jase asks.
I meet his gaze and hate the tears that well in mine. “I’m sick of being boring. Predictable. Normal. Maybe it’s time I do something unexpected to tip the scales.”