Page 14 of Mr. Brightside
I can’t help but widen my eyes at that, but otherwise, I try not to react.
“He needs a quick cash buyout. I want them. I just don’t have the money for it, and he doesn’t have time for me to figure it out. I’ve come up with one single solution: I have to get married. My dad died six years ago. He was a real asshat who got off on making my life hell. I know a lot of people have daddy issues or whatever, but Joe Whitely bore a special breed of hate. He left me ten million dollars in his will, but with the condition that I only got it if I got married. I know exactly why he set it up like that…”
Jake trails off and goes quiet for a moment. It doesn’t take a therapist in training to recognize the hurt behind his eyes.
“So that’s what this is about. I need to get married as soon as possible. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do, but when you mentioned you needed twenty grand, it was like the universe was saying, ‘here he is! This gorgeous man who you genuinely like would make a great husband, and he needs money, too!’”
My whole face heats at the compliment, even though I know he’s laying it on thick.
“I’m sorry if I led you here under false pretenses. I was so in my own head about this situation, I wasn’t using my other head for once.” He winks at me then, because of course he does.
“Do you… have any questions for me?”
Yes. Yes, I do. What’s in it for me? What would I have to do? How long would it last? Would I have to lie to my family and friends? Are there rules? Is there sex? And most importantly, at least where my heart is concerned, why not someone he’s actually been in a relationship with before?
That’s where I start. The question is rooted in self-doubt. But I have to know.
“Why me, Jake? Out of all the people you could have asked…”
He shrugs in defeat. “I don’t have anyone else to ask. You and I have always gotten along, and you could use the money, so why not you?”
His explanation is mediocre at best. But I have to hand it to him: he didn’t sugarcoat his answer. I respect that.
“And if I say no?”
He gives me a pointed look, like he doesn’t want to answer the question. I stay quiet and wait him out.
“If you say no, I’m back to square one, and I’ll start over.”
Start over?
Oh. Realization dawns on me then. This isn’t a special offer for me. I deflate as the reality of the situation sinks in. “You’re going through with this plan whether I’m in or not…”
Jake spreads his arms out on the island and hangs his head.
“It’s the only way I can think to get the money fast enough…”
“Why don’t you just ask someone you’ve dated?” I challenge.
He and I have hooked up. We’ve flirted. We’ve eye-fucked each other from across the room. But that’s as far as it’s ever gone. And none of that has happened recently. I’ve been in two relationships since the last time I was with Jake. He and I have been nothing but cordial, platonic coworkers since the spring of my first year of graduate school.
He smirks, making his dimple peek out before he replies. “Asking someone I’ve dated would be impossible, considering I’ve never been in a relationship.”
“What?”
I heard him. But I need him to repeat it.
“I’ve never been in a relationship. I swore them off in high school. I’ve never had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I’ve had plenty of partners, but never an actualpartner, ya know?”
I rack my brain, trying to come up with an example to refute his claim. But I draw a blank. For the five years I’ve worked at Clinton’s, I can’t think of one person Jake has ever referred to as his boyfriend or girlfriend. Huh.
“You said it didn’t have to be forever; how long would we have to stay married?”
Jake grimaces. I know from the look on his face this isn’t going to be a short-term arrangement.
“Two years, ideally, to be safe. There’s not a contingency about the length of the marriage in the will, probably because my dad didn’t think I’d ever go for it. But I have two brothers, and they’ll be on my ass as soon as they catch wind of this from our family’s estate lawyer. I don’t think they’ll interfere out of spite, but they’ll be the first to call me out if they don’t think it’s real.”
“What doesrealmean, Jake?”