Shopping for a Billionaire 3(29)
Author: Julia Kent

And you know those news reports about people who have cars suddenly plunge through plate glass windows into storefronts and houses?

I now consider them lucky. Oh please God, send one now.

But no. Instead, Monica says, tapping a manicured index finger on her peach-coated lips, “It all makes much more sense now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Amanda and I say at the exact same time in the exact same WTF? tone.

Monica’s face transforms as she thinks, the locked jaw softening as seconds pass. “Oh, dear. No wonder you and Steve didn’t work out. You were looking for a Boston Wife and he was looking for a wife in Boston.”

A Boston Wife. I’ve heard the term before. Antiquated phrase used to mean lesbianism long before it was socially acceptable to say lesbian.

“I dated Steve and loved Steve and he rejected me,” I say, a red cloud of fury growing over my head, ready to unleash a torrent of poison on Monica.

Jim clears his throat. Did he overhear that?

“Can you blame my son?” Monica is clutching imaginary pearls so hard I think she’s giving herself a tracheotomy. “He sensed it. He’s intelligent, and he’s a man. A red-blooded, masculine man with needs. You clearly couldn’t give him what he needed, so he left.” She sniffs the air. The gesture is so snobby it makes me bark with laughter. Dame Maggie Smith could take lessons on aristocratic pretension from Monica.

“We are talking about the same Steve, right?” Amanda asks me. “The same guy who wore his socks during sex and who insisted on making you buy all the Japanese tentacle erotica on your book account so it was never traced back to him?”

“Some things are meant to be private,” Monica whispers in a scathing voice.

“Monica, he buys old Japanese prints from the Meiji period and puts them on his bedroom walls. Haven’t you ever taken a good look at what’s going on in those paintings? The octopus hanging on to the woman’s half-naked body isn’t there to be cuddled,” I add.

Eyes widening, Monica looks like she might pass out. I start to feel guilty. I could really grind the knife in right now, but I don’t.

“Your red-blooded, masculine man has some really weird Hentai fantasies,” Amanda says flatly.

“Wait,” Monica says, eyes clouded with confusion. She pulls out her phone and taps into what looks like her text message screen, then reads something. “Steve told me you’re dating Declan McCormick now.” Low whistle. “Impressive.” Her eyes flicker to Amanda. “You accept the fact that Shannon is…bisexual?” That word seems easier for her to say than lesbian, but it still manages to come out sounding like she’s accidentally bitten into a piece of chocolate-covered poop.

I freeze. Amanda does, too. What can we say? How do I explain to my fake wife that I have a real billionaire boyfriend?

Amanda laughs. “That’s just business.”

Monica’s eyebrow shoots to the sky. “You’re pretending to date Declan McCormick? Even Jessica Coffin made a comment about you two as a couple.”

Amanda grimaces. I know she follows Jessica on Twitter. This is a mess. Certified, Grade A, failed-shop mess. If I admit I’m dating Declan, the entire mystery shop falls apart. If I don’t, Monica will start up the rumor mill into a DEFCON 1 level, complete with whooping sirens and fainting blue bloods.

I’d rather have my hand stuck in a toilet while eating hazelnut-flavored horseradish.

Amanda is cutting her eyes over to Jim so sharply she looks like she works for Wüsthof, and she squeezes me with more affection than a three-year-old meeting her first creation from Build-A-Bear. “Right, honey? You’re just dating Declan to make a solid business deal even better.”

Monica is eyeing me like my mom eyes a seventy-five-percent-off sale at Gaiam. “That’s right.” Fake smile. “I’m working on being more aggressive in business.”

“Steve would be proud,” his mom mutters. “He tried so hard to help you develop that killer instinct.”

I open my mouth to say something, and Amanda presses her finger against my lips in what looks like an affectionate gesture.

“So you’re really, truly not dating Declan McCormick for his looks? His charm? His money?” Monica persists. 

“For his company’s money,” I say, instantly hating the words on my mouth. Trying not to blow my cover means I’m about to blow chunks. Amanda squeezes my hand and nestles closer. I feel green. I’m Kermit the Frog right now.

“Everyone’s so much happier now, aren’t we? Steve certainly is.” Amanda’s words make Monica back down. She reaches into her purse and fiddles with something on her phone, then looks up at the wall clock.

Tight smiles all around. We look like the “After” picture from a two-for-one coupon for plastic surgery.

“Your mother must be very happy to have one of her girls married off.” She pauses. “Again, I mean. I know Carol’s divorced.”

Oh, no.

“It was a simple, civil ceremony,” I shoot back. “Not an actual wedding.” I squeeze Amanda. “We’re holding a wedding and reception quite soon.”

“Really? Where?”

“At Farmington,” Amanda blurts out.

Amanda doesn’t realize that Monica is on the board of directors for Farmington Country Club.

“You can’t.” Monica’s voice becomes low and roaring.

Jim happens to wander over at this exact moment. “Can’t what?” He’s holding a stack of printouts. I see a mortgage disclosure statement thicker than a thirteenth-century French stone castle wall in his beefy hands.

“Can’t have a wedding at Farmington Country Club,” Monica says in hushed tones.

His expression is bemused. “Why not?”

Monica blanches. “Because it’s not done.”

“Weddings are done all the time there.” His eyes narrow and his jaw tightens. Go Jim! You’re getting one hell of an evaluation. At least, after I go puke in a trash can and take four Xanax.

Monica stiffens. “Of course.” Smile so tight she could slice cheese with it. “We’ll see about that,” which, when translated from Bitchspeak, is actually Oh hell no they won’t.

Jim gives me a searching look, then grants Amanda one as well. “Shall we?” He holds up the stack of papers. “You newlyweds have a home and a life to start building.” He gives Monica a cold look. “Right this instant.”