Chapter 10 #2
She glances at the wall clock, then claps. “We’ve got just under an hour before your first appointment. Sit down and have some coffee while I whip you up something to eat.”
The moment Mom goes to the refrigerator, Brody pins Marv with a fierce look. “And what is our first appointment?”
“You’re tearing a page off the calendar,” Mom calls over her shoulder.
“Every day was booked months ago, but I made a few calls this morning, pulled some strings, and got you a slot. Saturday mornings usually draw a good crowd, and word’s already out that you’re today’s star. Everyone’s excited to meet you!”
She turns and winks at Brody. “Sometimes it pays to be the mayor’s wife.”
Brody gives me a questioning look.
“It’s a relatively new tradition,” I tell him. “To help local businesses. There’s a wooden board and it has a giant flip-chart pad. Each sheet is numbered from December first to the twenty-fourth. Every morning they move it to a new location, and a local celebrity reveals the date.”
“Every location is listed on the town website and in The Almanac,” Mom adds, then addresses Marv. “That’s the town newspaper. Great way to spotlight local businesses. And the bigger the celebrity, the better the exposure.”
Brody’s jaw is clenched, but he nods. It’s the perfect way to get photos of him in Hideaway without it seeming staged, and if I’m by his side when he reveals the new date, all the better.
“What’s the business?” he asks.
“A gift shop,” Marv replies, smiling at Mom. “Erica, I appreciate what you’ve done. I think you’re going to be our secret weapon over the next few days.”
She blushes. “So glad to help. And I’ll see what else I can do.”
Mia’s back is turned, her shoulders shaking.
Suspicious, I move to her side. Her face is contorted as she tries to stifle her laughter.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice low, as Mom clatters around the kitchen and Brody sets plates on the counter.
“I can’t tell you yet. I really need this job.”
“Is it really a gift shop?”
“Kind of,” she replies with a smirk, that tells me it’s probably not a gift shop.
“It’s not the cat sanctuary at the spa, is it?”
She shakes her head.
“The yoga studio where they have goats?”
Her hand covers her nose as she snorts.
“Come on, Mia! The retirement home?”
“No,” she whispers. “But I promise it’s going to be the best publicity for the two of you, like ever.”
She walks off, going to her camera bag, and I glance at Marv and Cara. They don’t seem bothered. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad … can it?
After the stresses of this morning, I don’t think I can eat.
But as soon as Mom places a plate of crispy bacon, eggs over easy, and pancakes drizzled with blueberry compote and maple syrup in front of me, I realize I’m ravenous.
Plus, I’ll need all the fuel I can get to deal with the wintery Maine weather.
Brody, Mia, and I eat, then we get wrapped up and leave the house.
This is it. We’re in public—well, there’s no one on the residential street, but who knows who’s watching from their windows?
Brody’s ridiculously handsome, clad in a brown wool coat and a dark green cashmere scarf which probably cost more than I make in a month, and I’m wearing the same outfit I was photographed in leaving the coffee shop, just to double down on my “mystery woman” status. At least Cara isn’t in the same thing.
“You need to hold hands,” Mia hisses at us as we trail behind Mom, Marv, and Cara.
I stumble, and Brody grabs my arm to stop me face-planting on the sidewalk.
“Yep, that’s it. You need to be actually touching each other,” Mia says, then adds with a pointed look. “Like a real couple.”
Brody hasn’t let go of my arm. “Do you mind?” he asks, his voice unsure, like he’s asking me to pick up dog poop with my bare hands.
“Not at all. I think we should,” I reply briskly, then link my arm with his and set off after the advance party.
Brody matches my step, and I revel in the feeling of him so close to me.
The calendar reveal is at ten and even though we’re half an hour early, Main Street is already busy with tourists and locals.
A few people do a double-take when they see Brody, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Either he’s immune to the attention, or really good at pretending it doesn’t exist.
A few younger women recognize him, then their gazes slide to me. I look away, gripping Brody’s arm tighter, unwilling to see any surprise or confusion in their eyes about why he’s with me.
He isn’t with you, my mind inconveniently reminds me.
Well, he is with me in public, I argue back.
It’s not just the difference I feel in our outfits right now. The looks we’re getting remind me that he’s a somebody, and I’m a lucky nobody.
Across the road, a bunch of people are gathered outside a storefront. One of them spots Brody, and the squeals of excitement start immediately.
His arm tenses, and I give it a reassuring squeeze, even though I’m probably just as tense as he is. Time to step up and be the best fake girlfriend I can.
“Hey ladies! Here to meet the big man?” Marv calls out as we approach. “I’m Marvin DeVille, Brody’s agent, but you can call me Marv.”
Mia’s already got her camera out, snapping away as we’re instantly surrounded.
“Smile!” she mutters under her breath, and I make my lips turn up.
“It’s okay,” Brody murmurs to me, his voice low, before greeting the women in front of the store. “You here for the big reveal?”
“Hell, yeah!” a woman cries, as others screech with laughter. “I hope you rip it all off!”
Brody’s forehead creases slightly as he glances at Marv and Mom.
Mom pulls an apologetic face and mouths, “Sorry, this is all I could get.”
Marv’s eyes widen as he stares at the front of the shop, still hidden from view by the women. “What the actual fuck?”
The women slowly move away from the entrance, and …
Oh shit.
“The Perfect Package?” Brody asks, still unaware of where his first official sighting in Hideaway Harbor is about to happen.
Then his gaze drops to the smaller lettering beneath the name, which reads, ‘Hideaway’s naughtiest little secret. For when size really does matter.’
Yep, Brody’s about to promote Hideaway Harbor’s woman-run and female-focused adult toy store.
I glance around for an exit, but we’re surrounded by a wall of eager faces. There’s no escape.
A shocking-pink door in the center of the building opens, and a voluptuous woman with waist-length powder-blue hair steps out.
“Brody King,” she says, her voice sultry and as striking as her appearance. “I’m Lola Monroe. Welcome to The Perfect Package. Please, come right in.”