Page 7 of The Girlfriend Card (Vegas Sin #4)

Craigslist Guy

Ottavia

A blustery wind tousled my hair as I peered over the balcony railing, a glass of ruby-red wine in hand.

The Strip’s marquee lights and signs danced in the dark, painting the night sky with a pulsing neon glow.

From fifty stories up, the ebb and flow of traffic was a distant hum, and the bustling city below felt worlds away.

A strange, almost bittersweet feeling turned in my core.

How peculiar to observe all the sights and sounds and energy of the city, yet not actually be immersed in it.

I felt like an outsider. Even at home. Especially at home.

This feeling, I now realized, was always with me.

It was easier to ignore it when I was at Stanford, true—but Stanford was a temporary escape lasting only four years. This was the rest of my life.

Ding .

I turned around and cast a glance at my phone, which I’d left on the table next to the outdoor lounge chair. The screen glowed with a notification.

Not going to solve any mysteries tonight, I thought as I pushed away from the balcony railing.

I laid on the lounger and scooped up my phone. The notification was for a new email—and I smiled when I saw who’d sent it.

Craigslist Guy.

His email read, “I didn’t scare you off, did I? I’d still love to speak with you. The dinner is tomorrow and I really really need to find somebody.” He’d given me his cell number again, too.

I frowned. I could feel the poor guy’s trepidation through his words. It was clear to me now that he wasn’t joking after all. But after my talk with Leo, I’d lost whatever trivial interest I might’ve had in the job. I was sick and tired of pretending to be someone’s girlfriend.

But Craigslist Guy was desperate, and the least I could do was put the poor man out of his misery. I fetched his cell phone number and tapped out a text:

“Hi there, Craigslist Guy. This is the theater major girl. I just wanted to text you to say sorry and let you know that I’m honestly not interested in the job.

I only replied to your ad because I thought it was a joke or something?

I’m not exactly sure what I thought. Anyway, I’m really sorry to waste your time.

Good luck with your search, and I hope you find what you’re looking for! ”

I tossed my phone aside, thinking that would be the end of it. But a minute or two later, my phone chimed with a new text.

“Why aren’t you interested? If it’s money, I can offer you more. How’s 20K sound?”

My eyebrow arched at that figure. I didn’t need the money. But twenty grand was a significant chunk of change to throw around for a couple hours’ work. Who was this guy, exactly, and what ‘industry’ was he in? I was curious, sure, but not anywhere near curious enough to do the job.

“It’s not the money,” I wrote back.

“Okay, then what is it?”

Ugh, I wondered, what do I tell him?

I tapped out a bullshit-sounding reply that still had its roots in the truth. “I’m looking for a new experience. I’ve already done a role like this before.”

“Whoa whoa whoa.... WHAT???”

I face-palmed when I realized my error: I’d only made him more interested, and his texts continued to ping my phone.

“ Are you serious?? You’ve pretended to be someone’s girlfriend??”

“Yes. But I didn’t enjoy it. Which is why I don’t care about the money. I don’t ever want to do it again. Sorry again, but I wish you the best of luck!”

“COME ON!!! You’re just saying all this to torture me right now, right??” He couldn’t believe what I was telling him. Literally. I suppose I couldn’t blame him. “Brett, if this is you dicking with me, I’m gonna snap. Not funny, bro.”

“I’m not Brett, whoever that is.”

“Yeah. Right. Whatever you say, Brett.”

I ignored him and set my phone aside again.

A few minutes later, though, my phone began to ring. I chortled when I saw the number was Craigslist Guy’s.

No thanks. I rolled my eyes and rejected the call.

He fired off another text a minute later. “Brett, I KNOW this is you. Got a burner phone just for this, huh? That’s so fucking lame bro! I’m in a crisis over here, and you’re seriously gonna prank me?? The least you can do is answer the phone and own up to it when I call you out, bro.”

He rang me again.

I sighed. What stupid ‘bro’ drama had I gotten myself sucked into? I didn’t want to answer, but this guy seemed convinced I was a friend named Brett, and on the verge of ending their friendship over it.

I didn’t need the bad karma weighing on my soul, so this time, I picked up.

“Hi, Craigslist Guy,” I said, irritation in my voice. “This is me, Theater Girl, not Brett.”

He chuckled with surprise. “Oh. Hey. Sorry about that, Theater Girl.” The voice on the other end, deep and velvety, warmed me like a sip of smooth whiskey. “I was convinced you were Brett.”

“I could tell. Who is this Brett character, anyway?”

“My best friend. We uh—we prank each other a lot.” I liked his laugh; he sounded magnetic and fun. “Sorry. You probably thought I was a psycho.”

“A little, yeah. Which is why I answered. I wanted to make sure you didn’t kill Brett because of me.”

He laughed. “Thanks to you, Brett lives … for now. ”

I smiled. “Anyway …” I trailed off, making the first move to end our call.

But he didn’t take the hint. “So where are you right now, anyway? Sounds windy as shit on your end.”

“I’m outdoors.”

“Oh really? I thought you lived in a wind tunnel,” he teased. “Obviously, you’re outdoors. But where? On top of a mountain?”

I giggled. “Something like that.” As amusing as Craigslist Guy was, I tried to wrap up our call a second time. “Anyway, it was nice talking to you, but I should probably get goin—”

But he stopped me from hanging up a second time.

“Are you hot?” he asked, quickly adding, “’Cause damn. You sound pretty hot.”

I tutted. “What kind of question is that? Are you hot?”

“Hell yeah, I am. Can’t you hear it in my deep, sexy voice?”

His voice was deep and sexy, but I wasn’t about to admit it to him; his ego clearly didn’t need the pump.

“And you’re so humble, too,” I said, poking fun.

He chuckled. “You’re funny. Hey, what’s your name?”

I hesitated. There weren’t too many other Ottavias in Las Vegas—best not risk it. “Olivia,” I said.

“Hi, Olivia. I’m Dakota.”

“Hi, Dakota.”

“So, Olivia, were you serious when you said you’ve done this job before?”

“Something like it,” I said guardedly.

“Can you tell me about it?”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Hm. You’re discreet. That’s good.” He paused. “And you were serious when you said you were a theater major, too, right?”

I sighed. Why was he trying to get information out of me when I told him I didn’t want to do his stupid job?

“Yes. I just finished my third year,” I said after a lull.

“Cool. Where do you go to school?”

“… Stanford.”

“Stanford, niiiice! Hey, I like you already.”

Because you think I have money? I thought, my eyes narrowing.

“What about you? What do you do, anyway?” I asked. “Twenty grand is a lot of cash for a single dinner.”

“Let’s save that for later. If you end up being the girl that gets the job, I’ll tell you.”

I snickered. “I like how you’re trying to dangle this job over my head when I already told you I’m not even interested in it.”

“I’m desperate here, Olivia,” he said, sounding sincere.

“I know. I could tell from your first email. The desperation is radiating off of you in waves.”

“God, ain’t that the truth …” he snickered.

Regardless of how desperate he was, I wasn’t his girl, and the night was getting late. I got up from my lounge chair, stretched, and headed indoors.

“Well, Dakota—” I let out a strategically-placed yawn. “It’s getting late and I’m really tired, so if you don’t mind—”

He stopped me from leaving a third time. “Hey, what’s your Insta? I wanna see what you look like.”

“I don’t have one,” I said casually.

“You don’t have Instagram?” His voice held a hint of shock. “What’s wrong with you? Do you live under a rock or something?”

I walked into the living room and toppled over the back of the couch, the sumptuous cushions swallowing my body. With a whimsical sigh, I channeled my best Audrey Hepburn impression. “Only the biggest, fanciest rock you’ve ever seen.”

Knowing nothing about me, Dakota had, of course, missed my playful sarcasm. He was merely confused instead. “What’s that mean? And why’d you say it like that just then? You’re kinda weird, aren’t you?”

“Hint, hint. All us theater kids are.”

“Lord. What have I gotten myself into,” Dakota grumbled. “She doesn’t have an Instagram. She even admits she lives under a giant rock … I don’t know what I was thinking … finding an actress on Craigslist … pft … what a great idea that was … man , I am so fucked.”

Apparently, we were talking about each other in the second person now.

Mimicking the biologist David Attenborough, I playfully began to narrate, whispering, “As we observe the fascinating subject known as Craigslist Guy, a peculiar phenomenon unfolds before our very eyes. Initially intrigued by the idea of hiring an actress, Craiglist Guy now grapples with his assumptions about the theater world and its inhabitants. Like a bewildered naturalist encountering an alien species for the very first time, he struggles to make sense of these newfound discoveries . . .”

Dakota laughed. Hard. Which put a smile on my face. I loved to make people laugh.

“Dude. What? Was that an impression of that nature documentary guy?”

“David Attenborough,” I said quietly.

“Yeah—that’s the guy!” He snapped his fingers. “That was really good. Did you just make that whole speech up on the spot?!”

“Well, yeah … I mean, I improvised …”

“Olivia!” He spoke my pseudonym with such surprise. “You’re kinda brilliant, aren’t you?”

A heat grew in my cheeks. I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing.

“Seriously, Olivia. Would you please meet with me in person?”

“But whyyy?” I mewled.

“Because it sounds like you can help me. And I don’t know much about you, but I’m sure I can help you with something, too. So if you’re free, let’s meet up and chat. What are you doing tonight?”

I liked his persistence. Most of all, I liked that he needed me. It felt good to feel wanted … just not enough to take part in his crazy plan.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve got plans tonight,” I lied.

“Plans? Hold up. I thought you were tired?”

“That’s funny,” I grumbled. “ I thought you didn’t hear a word I was saying every time I tried to get off the phone.”

“Oh, I heard you. And I knew exactly what were you doing, by the way.” He snickered. “I’m a world-class bullshitter, Olivia. That’s how I know you’re bullshitting me right now, too.”

I grinned. “Fine! My plans are to go to bed. How’s that? It’s late, and I’m tired, Dakota.”

“Meet me tomorrow, then? We can grab coffee or lunch or whatever you want. Please?” His voice held a rawness that wasn’t there before.

“I know I’m just a stranger to you but I’m really in a bad situation here.

I really don’t have much time left. You’re the only person I’ve talked to who has any potential.

I promise you, I’ll make it worth your time if you meet with me. ”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll meet you for coffee tomorrow. But don’t get your hopes up because—” I cut myself off because I could already him celebrating in the background.

“ Yes! Yes! Wooo! Yesss! ”

I listened to his whoops and cheers and patiently waited for him to pick up the phone again.

“Thank you so much,” he said at last, panting from excitement.

“As I was about to say, don’t get your hopes up,” I warned. “Because I’ll tell you right now, I’m not going to do this. You’re only wasting your own time.”

“Well, Olivia, I look forward to changing your mind,” he said with a cocky bravado.

“We’ll see about that.” I dismissed his confidence with a scoff. “Bye now—and this time for real. Don’t even try to stop me from leaving, okay?”

I waited a beat to see what he’d come up with this time to keep me from hanging.

But this time, he surprised me by saying nothing at all.

After an awkward lull, he laughed. “You’re still on the line, aren’t you? I can hear you.”

“Ugh!” I groaned, annoyed. “Well yeah, I’m still on the phone! Because you never said bye!”

“Good night, Olivia,” he said. “Can’t wait to meet you.”

“ Bye ,” I said and hung up.

Staring off into the distance, I couldn’t help but shake my head and grin, left with the most perplexing mix of frustration and curiosity. Dakota certainly had a way of getting under my skin. The strange part was, I wasn’t sure if I hated it … or not.

Dakota.

Hm.