The Pretend Girlfriend (6 page)

But what would that make me?
The question took root and wouldn't leave. Again, she thought of the genuine attraction that had been building for Aiden, and the way he so callously and casually wiped it out.

Just like pretty much everyone else in her life, Aiden wanted to use her for his own benefit.
Do I have Sucker tattooed across my forehead or something?

Gwen perked up, rubbing at her eyes. There might be one other thing she could check.

Hope driving her feet quickly, she went into her bedroom and sat at her desk. She flipped open her laptop, glancing up at the poster of Big Ben she had on the wall. It was a nice black and white print she'd bought at a poster sale during her first semester at college.

Microsoft Word documents cluttered her desktop. All the various essays and papers she had going for school. But she found the Internet Explorer icon and fired up the browser.

Soon enough, she'd pulled up her online banking. Her student loan payment had gone in a few weeks ago. Most of it went to tuition, of course, and some of it had lined Janice's pockets in that last rent check she'd written.

But there might still be enough. Her fingers shaking, she typed in her password (twice, actually, since the first time she knew she hit the wrong keys).

Her account balance showed up near the top of the screen. It wasn't enough. Not even by half. Not even by a fifth.

Then thoughts of crawling beneath the inviting comforter, to squeeze her eyes shut and let the day pass away, tempted her.

But it was time to choose between her limited options, none of them really what she wanted.

She could take her pick of which parent she wanted to live with. Both of them offered to come and help her out, both of them offered her a place to sleep. But neither of them lived anywhere near close enough to the city to make commuting back and forth to school and option. She'd have to transfer or drop out.

Then there was moving in with Beatrice. She knew as soon as she told B about her parents, B would make the offer. She'd be able to stay in school that way, which gave that choice a leg up over the parents option. However, she could just feel it in her bones that she and Beatrice would end up butting heads. Not at first, maybe, not during that initial honeymoon period where Gwen knew she would feel all indebted and grateful to her friend, ready to forgive her anything.

But just like in any relationship, the honeymoon would end and they would start to disagree. Small things at first. Like how Beatrice liked to let her garbage overflow before changing it, or letting her alarm go for hours. Soon enough they'd get fed up with each other and that, as they say, would be that. And then she'd be in the same position as now, minus that option.

It seemed inevitable that she would move back in with either her mom or her dad.

Maybe it was a good thing, then, that Aiden didn't ask her out. Say they'd started seeing each other. Well, it wouldn't have stopped Gwen from owing all that money. They would have had to break it off anyway, when Gwen moved back.

She sat back in her chair, her glassy eyes looking at but not really seeing the bank statement on her laptop's screen.

Trying to think about something pleasant, Aiden popped into her mind, to her surprise. He did have a handsome face, and those cold, arresting eyes. She would so have liked to explore those depths, maybe find the real person who looked out through them.

He'd seemed pretty great for a little bit there. What with getting his company to be more charitable. Even coming out to check on the money and everything.

But why had he been so secretive? He refused to tell her both the company he worked for, and the name of the charity. Why? Just what was going on with Aiden Manning?

Her curiosity piqued (perhaps to artificial heights by her desire to not think about her problems for once) her fingers danced across the keyboard, bringing up Wikipedia in the browser.

She typed in his name and hit enter. The page redirected, landing her in an entry about a company called Carbide Solutions. Apparently they did everything from supplying building materials to factories all over the world, to creating designs for various machines, to consulting with various governments on industrial projects. They were a Fortune 500 company, with thousands of employees across the globe.

The link labeled Controversies caught her eye, and she moved to that section of the article. It appeared that Carbide Solutions didn't become the behemoth it was entirely honestly. They were currently involved in legal action over in various Asian countries as well as India for unscrupulous business practices.

Your stereotypical big bad corporation, it seemed, in it for the money and not really caring about the cost of doing business.

But what did all this have to do with Aiden Manning? She hit the Ctrl and F keys, bringing up the search box. She typed in his name. It got highlighted about midway through the article.

Aiden Manning, it read, the youngest executive ever at Carbide Solutions. He was a graduate of Harvard Business School, with a minor in Ethics.

He was also the only child of Henry Manning, the current CEO, founder, and primary shareholder of Carbide Solutions. The article mentioned some accusations of nepotism, but that in Aiden's two years on the board, he'd shown himself more than capable of navigating the murky, treacherous waters of a multinational corporation.

The article went on to note his push for more transparent business practices, and his spearheading charitable initiatives within the company.

For once, Gwen wished Wikipedia allowed more gossip and speculation. It gave her some hard background on him, but didn't really tell her anything about Aiden as a person. Other than an apparent guilt at the way his father chose to conduct his business.

Gwen spent hours agonizing over the decision, weighing it against the alternatives, questioning her own motivations.

It was her only real option, if she wanted to stay in this place and keep going to school.

Isn't my future worth bending my morals a bit?
she asked herself. She came to a conclusion that both relieved and frightened her.

The article for Carbide Solutions still occupied her screen, and the parallels didn't escape her. She wondered if Mr. Henry Manning asked himself the same thing, when he allowed his business to operate as it did overseas.

It was a question she would have to put to his son.

If she could figure out how to find him again.

G
wen paid the cabbie, passing a $20 through the divider. The man shot her a hard look beneath his bushy eyebrows when she pocketed all her change. All she could do was offer him an apologetic smile as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.

She couldn't afford to tip him. Especially if this didn't pan out. And if it didn't pan out, Gwen knew she'd be kicking herself for spending money on two pointless cab rides. But unfortunately, the subway didn't run out this way.

It was a cooler day. The grey clouds obscured the sky in their haze, and a chilly breeze wended its way down the street. Gwen stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and hunched her shoulders. Yes, it was unseasonably cold. She tried not to take it as a bad sign as she started down the street, reading the addresses on the low buildings crowding the sidewalk.

That same breeze tugged at her hair, which she let loose against her shoulders. Her mouth kept going dry, and anxiety panged in her stomach. She'd barely been able to force a slice of toast down at breakfast; her nerves bothered her so much.

But this was it. Her last chance to solve this problem in a way that would let her stay in the city.

She walked another block before she found the right place. It was an old community center. Graffiti plastered its faded walls. Someone had tried halfheartedly to scrub the tags off, leaving them all smudged. A banner flapped in the wind over the main entrance, announcing the building as the home of the For the Children charity. Its logo was a stick man with his hands resting on the shoulders of two stick children, one slightly taller than the other.

According to her Google search, Aiden had ties with this charity, as well as two others in other districts in the metropolitan area. One really was close to her apartment, but she'd already checked there earlier that afternoon and hadn't found him.

This one she'd called ahead to. The nice woman on the other end of the line told her that Aiden was due for a visit, but didn't have an exact time.

Gwen took the concrete stairs up to the door two at a time. She didn't want to miss him again, and once more wished that he'd given her his phone number before that whole thing at Starbucks. Though, she suspected she would have deleted it in a fit of anger anyway.

"Yes, hi, is Aiden Manning in?" Gwen said, walking up to the front desk. It was flanked by a set of doors on either side. A women in her mid-fifties, her ponytail shot with grey, manned the desk. She peered over the rims of her glasses at an old computer monitor, her fingers picking at the keyboard methodically.

"Mr. Manning? I believe he was supposed to be here about an hour ago." The secretary pushed her glasses back up her nose and regarded Gwen.

"So he's not here?" Gwen said, leaning against the desk. A filing system of old milk crates and cardboard boxes took up much of the floor space.

"I'm afraid not. Is there something I can help you with?" the secretary asked, pausing in her typing.

"I don't suppose you could give me Mr. Manning's number? I need to get in touch with him," Gwen said, feeling like she already knew the answer. She could feel her resolve wavering.

"I can't give out private information like that, I'm sorry."

Gwen nodded. Maybe this was a sign. A sign that she shouldn't be trying to go through with this. That it was wrong, and the universe was trying to steer her back on the straight and narrow path (which led, of course, to a spare bedroom belonging to either her mother or father).

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for your time," Gwen said.

"Have a nice day," the secretary replied,

That's that, then, I guess
, Gwen thought as she turned around. She searched for her cab fare in her pocket. It's probably for the best, anyway, she continued. Some of the anxiety in her stomach bled away, and she actually started feeling a bit hungry.

"Gwen?"

She nearly ran into him. Aiden stood close by, looking at her with those cold chips of ice that passed for his eyes. He wore a black business suit today.
Probably coming from work
, she figured. His red silk tie was pulled loose, and the top button of his shirt was undone.

"Oh, Aiden, hi," Gwen said. Her eyes danced around the entrance hallway as she thought madly for some excuse that he might actually buy for her being there.

Aiden broke the silence, "This is nice. I didn't expect to see you again. I really want to apologize for what happened at Starbucks. I just thought I saw something..."

"I'll do it," Gwen said, forcing the words out around the bile also trying to rise up her throat. That hint of an appetite disappeared again.

"Something I might do to help us both, and then you... Wait, what?" Aiden said, his eyes narrowing.

"You want to rent yourself a girlfriend. Well, I'm your man... err... woman. Girl. You know what I mean." Gwen said. Then she stuck out her hand.

"Oh, I see. This is a bit unexpected, given your first reaction and all." He sounded uncertain, and Gwen entertained the terrifying thought that he, too, was going to refuse her. But he took her hand and gave it three solid pumps. And it was quite the handshake. Just enough firmness to show he meant business without the bone grinding force of someone trying too hard. She wondered if he learned it from his father.

"Good, I guess," Gwen said. She'd been preparing for this all day, thinking everything through carefully. This was a business deal, and she needed to treat it as such, even if her mind occupied itself thinking about how warm and strong his hand felt, and how it had so totally enveloped hers. She took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips.
You have to get through this
, she told herself.

"I have some ground rules we have to go over..." she started.

"That's great. Hey, look, let's discuss this shortly. I have to take care of some business here first. And, speaking of which, remember to remind me to ask you about how you figured all this out, where I was going to be today, I mean. Here, why don't you take a seat? I shouldn't be more than half an hour or so," Aiden said.

Before she could protest, he sat her down on a bench across from the front desk, then disappeared through the set of doors on Gwen's right.

She and the secretary shared a polite smile, then Gwen buried herself in her own doubts. She shoved both hands between her thighs and sucked on her bottom lip, staring at the black streaks left on the tile floor left by someone's shoe.

This is ridiculous
, she told herself.
You should just get up and leave. It's not like you gave him your address or anything.

Her thoughts turned quickly to Aiden.

And what kind of nerve is that? I tell him I'll be his pretend girlfriend and he sits me on this bench and tells me to wait like I'm some kid he has to babysit. Well, let me tell you, mister, what I think about that...!

Maybe it was because of that handshake, and how she couldn't, well, shake thinking about it, that she felt so mad at him again.

She was in the process of getting up to go when those doors swung open and out came Aiden. An older man with deep wrinkles on his face and a horseshoe of red hair followed him out. They shook hands, the other man looking quite pleased.

"I'll make sure you get that donation this week," Aiden said.

"Yes, and thank you. Thank you again," the man said.

"I should be the one thanking you, actually," Aiden said. He glanced over at Gwen, then back to the man, "I'll be in touch. Excuse me, please."

Aiden came over to Gwen, who tried not to look like she'd been just about to skip out on their deal. "Let's go grab some lunch. There's a nice diner kitty corner from here. Good sandwiches. We can talk things through."