Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
JACKSON
“Iwas thinking I could visit you in New York sometime if you’re not too busy,” my mom says, her cheery voice ringing out through my phone.
Following my parents’ divorce, Mom moved to California, where she had been born and raised. Since moving back to New York, I’ve yet to see her in person.
“Of course, I’d love to see you, Mom,” I say, leaning back in my office chair.
“I’d love to see you, too.” She hesitates for a moment. “There’s something else I was going to ask—”
“Jackson, do you have a quick moment?” It’s Andrew standing at my already-open door, holding a book.
“Sorry, Mom, just a sec,” I say to Mom and turn to Andrew. “Sure thing. What’s up?”
“I wanted to give you this.” Andrew walks inside and places the book on my desk with a smile. “I know you mentioned wanting to read more last week. I picked this one up at the bookstore yesterday. It’s one of my favorites.”
I glance at the book title. It’s Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. “Thanks, Andrew. That’s very kind.”
“You’re welcome.” His gaze shifts to my phone, and he clears his throat. “I’ll let you get back to your call.”
I nod, watching as he walks out before returning to my phone call. “Hey, Mom, sorry about that. It was just Andrew.”
“No problem.” A pause ensues. “How are you finding working with him?”
“It’s been good.”
Like everyone else at Carter Marketing Solutions, Andrew’s been welcoming and supportive so far, and I don’t have much to say.
“That’s good,” Mom says slowly, as if she’s choosing her words carefully. Another pause follows. “I … I have to go now, but we’ll talk soon, okay?”
A knot settles in my stomach. I feel as though there was something more Mom wanted to say, but I’m sure she’ll share whatever news with me when she’s ready.
“Yeah,” I say. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, honey.”
As we end the call, another knock resounds on my door, and this time, it’s Clarissa. She pushes her red-framed glasses up. “Mr. Carter, Mr. Webster is waiting for you in conference room 2.”
Despite assuring her I’m happy to just be called by my first name, she insists on calling me Mr. Carter in the office.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I say.
Grabbing a pen and notebook, I head to conference room 2. Jeffrey Webster, a man in his forties, stands from where he was seated. He’s the VP of an online retailer Carter Marketing Solutions recently signed on—one of our biggest clients.
After introductions, we go through Jeffrey’s company’s budget, current marketing strategy, and challenges.
I listen and nod as he speaks while taking notes, but for some reason, thoughts of brown eyes and dark hair keep creeping into my head.
I push them away each time, my grip on my pen tightening.
Thankfully, Jeffrey doesn’t seem to pick up on it.
Once the meeting’s over, I escort Jeffrey to the reception area and head to Aaron’s office, knocking once on his door.
“Come in,” he calls out.
I open the door, revealing Aaron working while having an early lunch. He glances up from his computer screen.
“Hey, wanna go for a coffee run?” I ask.
“Sure. Where?”
“The Daily Brew is only a five-minute walk from here.”
“The Daily Brew?” Aaron’s brows perk up. “Isn’t that where Isabelle works?”
I shrug. “It’s just close and convenient. Plus, they actually have decent coffee that satisfies my taste buds.”
Contrary to what I told Isabelle last time, the coffee she made was surprisingly good. I’ve been avoiding going back there, but after trialing three other coffee shops around the area, I’m convinced that the coffee at The Daily Brew is the best within walking distance.
Aaron stabs the salad on his desk with his fork before stuffing lettuce inside his mouth. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
“You can finish eating later,” I say. “I’m looking forward to some coffee right now.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “You sure coffee’s the only thing you’re looking forward to?”
I’m beginning to regret asking him to join me. “What else would it be?”
Aaron places his fork down. “You know, for someone who aced English back in school, you sure don’t know what the word denial means.”
“I’m leaving,” I grumble, walking off.
“Wait for me!” Aaron cries from behind.
When we arrive at The Daily Brew five minutes later, Isabelle’s standing behind the counter. Her hair’s pulled up into her classic high ponytail, and a cream The Daily Brew apron is wrapped around her waist.
There aren’t any other customers in line, so we walk straight up to her.
“Look, it’s my favorite customer again,” she says to me. “And you brought a friend this time. Hey, Aaron. Long time no see.”
Aaron grins at her. “Hey, Isabelle.”
I place my hands on the counter. “Favorite customer? Does that mean I get a discount?”
“Discounts are only for nice people, honey,” Isabelle says in a sugary-sweet tone.
“Honey?” I say. “Now that’s an upgrade from jackass.”
Isabelle rolls her eyes. “Are you going to order or not?”
Since I’m here, I might as well make things interesting.
“Do you still have the black coffee with a flavor of arrogance and cockiness on top?”
Aaron stares at me in disbelief. “Is that actually a real thing on the menu?”
“Sorry, we ran out of flavoring,” Isabelle says. “I had to use too much for Jackson’s order last time.”
“How generous of you,” I deadpan. “You gave me more flavoring without charging extra. I really must be your favorite customer around here.”
Isabelle shakes her head. “God, you really are a source of pain in my life.”
“You know what they say—no pain, no gain.”
“Are you two trying to subtly flirt with each other?” Aaron pipes up.
“No,” Isabelle and I both say, crossing our arms at the same time. We turn to glare at each other.
For some reason, an image of me wrapping my arms around her from behind enters my head. I push the imagery aside.
Laughter bubbles in Aaron’s throat. “Wow. You two are literally in sync.”
Uncrossing my arms, I remind myself of the real reason we’re here—for coffee and coffee only.
“We’ll have one regular black coffee and one iced Americano to go,” I say to Isabelle, reciting my and Aaron’s usual orders.
Aaron takes out his card to pay, but I stop him. “I’ve got it.”
“Looks like Mr. CEO is feeling very generous today,” Aaron muses. “He must be in a particularly good mood. I wonder why.”
I toss him a glare. For the second time, I’m regretting asking him to join me. “Can’t I just want to buy you coffee?”
“Sounds like he got out of the right side of bed for once,” Isabelle sarcastically adds.
Her statement piques my interest. “Thinking about me waking up in the morning, Isabella?”
She scowls. “Yeah. I’m just dying to know what color shirt Jackson Carter was wearing when he woke up this morning.”
“I actually sleep shirtless,” I say and watch as flustered Isabelle—with her cheeks tinting pink—replaces sarcastic Isabelle.
Jackson—one. Isabelle—zero.
“All right, kids, let’s keep this PG friendly,” Aaron says, raising a palm. “Bear in mind, I’m still third-wheeling here.”
“Who’s third-wheeling who?”
The three of us turn around to see Jen, who’s entered the coffee shop. Her eyes dart between me and Aaron, lingering on Aaron for a moment longer.
“Jen?” Aaron grins, his face lighting up. “Nice to see you again.”
“Hey, Aaron. You too,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she walks over to us. She clears her throat and faces Isabelle, then me. “Hey, Belle. Hello, Jackson.”
I acknowledge her with a friendly smile. “Hey, Jen.”
Isabelle walks out from behind the counter with a grin and gives Jen a hug. When they pull apart, there’s a mischievous look in Jen’s eyes. She turns to Isabelle and says, “So, how’s the search for a fake boyfriend going?”
My head jolts back. Isabelle’s searching for a … what?
Unsure whether to be amused or concerned right now, I glance at Isabelle, whose cheeks are now flushed with heat. “You need a fake boyfriend?”
She shoots me a fiery glare. “It’s none of your concern.”
“Firstly, she doesn’t need a fake boyfriend, but she would be interested in having one,” Jen clarifies, turning to me with a look that means all business and no bullshit. “Secondly, would you like to volunteer?”
I’m taken aback by how forthright that was and remind myself not to mess with Jen.
“Jen!” Isabelle gasps.
“My vote also goes to Jackson,” Aaron chimes in.
I throw another glare at Aaron “The Traitor” Lancaster, who seems more invested in this exchange than when he’s watching the Knicks—our favorite basketball team and his overall favorite sports team—play a game. “Whose side are you on?”
He flashes me a smile. “I’m on Cupid’s side.”
“Same,” Jen adds.
Isabelle’s eyes go wide. “That’s an insult to Cupid!”
I agree. Any arrows Cupid shot at us would probably burn into ashes and flames.
“Doesn’t that kind of stuff only happen in those fluffy romance books you read?” I ask Isabelle.
I remember how she loved reading romance books back in high school, especially the ones with those cartoon covers.
Isabelle opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.
“You didn’t answer my question, Jackson,” Jen jumps in.
“It’s fine, Jen,” Isabelle tells her. “It’s not like I’d agree to it, even if he offered to be my fake boyfriend, which he obviously wouldn’t.”
Ouch. Somehow, that hurts more than any other insult she’s ever thrown at me.
Aaron bursts into a fit of laughter, as if what Isabelle just said is the funniest thing he’s heard in his whole life, before pointing a finger at me. “Oh man, you just got fake rejected!”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I never said I’d be willing to do it.”
“See?” Isabelle says to Jen. “Point proven and case closed.”
“Don’t believe him, ladies,” Aaron tells them. “He doesn’t always say what he’s really thinking.”
I toss him another glare. I think I need a new best friend and work partner after this. “How are you so sure?”
“Because I’ve known you since you were five,” he proudly says. “And believe it or not, kid Jackson was way more fun than adult Jackson ‘I’m in Denial’ Carter.”
He’s right. I mean, not the part about adult me being more fun than kid me or me being in denial, but Aaron does know me better than most people.
And I’ll admit, my cup of curiosity is stirring and brewing. I don’t know exactly why, but I’m quite intrigued by Isabelle’s quest for a fake boyfriend, and I’m suddenly determined to show her I’m not as predictable as she thinks I am.
“Fine. Challenge accepted. I’ll do it.” The words crawl out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I knew it!” Jen exclaims.
Isabelle looks at me as though I morphed into an alien. “What did you just say?”
“I said, I’ll do it,” I repeat. I’ve probably lost the plot, but there’s no going back now. “I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”
“Jackson Carter finally succumbs to his feelings and officially offers to be Isabelle’s fake boyfriend,” Aaron says, his voice mirroring that of a sports commentator. “But will Isabelle say yes?”
Ignoring Aaron’s unwarranted commentary, I focus my attention on Isabelle, who’s shaking her head.
“It’s not happening,” she says.
“And she said no!” Aaron dramatically gasps.
Of course, I didn’t really expect her to agree; nonetheless, for some reason, a small stinging feeling stabs my chest.
“Someone’s pessimistic,” I say, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
Isabelle rolls her eyes. “It just wouldn’t work.”
“It wouldn’t work, or are you too scared to make it work?” I probe.
She shrugs. “I just know the outcome would be an absolute train wreck of a disaster.”
A frown permeates my face. “Who says it would be a disaster?”
“Sorry, Belle. I’m with Jackson on that one,” Aaron adds, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
Finally, he’s said something useful today.
“Well, for starters, there are risks,” Isabelle continues, a certainty to her voice.
“High risk, high reward,” I point out. “It’s just like investing in the stock market.”
If I lost the plot before, that’s nothing compared to what’s happening now. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to try to change her mind like an idiot who can’t take no for an answer.
“I can’t possibly imagine there being any rewards,” Isabelle says.
Aaron faces me, clapping his hands and combusting into another outbreak of laughter. “Damn! You’re really getting rejected left, right, and center today.”
My jaw clenches. A voice in my head tells me that I should leave before I lose the last piece of my dignity and that I should stay far away from Isabelle’s chaos, not walk straight into it.
But another part of me is still tempted to prove her wrong.
To prove to her I’m not the jackass she thinks I am.
“You have any other candidates, Isabella?” I ask.
She falters. “Yes.”
My eyes narrow. I don’t believe her.
New customers arrive, the bell above the coffee shop door jingling.
“Good morning, and welcome to The Daily Brew!” Isabelle calls out, like she couldn’t be happier about the distraction.
Reluctantly, I step to the side with Aaron and wait for our orders to be made, scrolling through my work emails as a distraction.
“Jackass and Aaron!” Isabelle shouts minutes later, placing two coffee to-go cups on the counter.
Others inside the coffee shop turn to me with a funny look on their faces, like they’re questioning whether my real name is actually Jackass. Great.
“Oh my God, you’re the best,” Aaron says to Isabelle with a laugh as he picks up his coffee.
“Very funny, Isabella.” I don’t give her an opportunity to respond, turning around and heading straight for the exit with my coffee.
Aaron follows, and we say goodbye to Jen on our way out.
“I can’t believe you just threw me under the bus like that,” I say to Aaron as soon as we’re outside.
“You’ll thank me for it later,” Aaron says. “Also, if I’m not mistaken, you seemed like you were into the idea yourself.”
I gulp down my coffee as we walk ahead, letting the hot liquid run down my throat. “If I recall correctly, I was peer pressured into it.”
“Aw, you don’t have to be disappointed, man. I’m sure she’ll come around soon.”
“I’m not disappointed,” I say through gritted teeth. “I don’t know why she needs a fake boyfriend, and I’m not interested in being involved in her drama.”
It’s probably for the best. Who knows what kind of crazy or twisted scheme Isabelle Curtis-Wong has up her sleeve?
Aaron lifts a hand in defeat. “All right, Grandpa. Whatever you say.”