Page 9 of Boyfriend Maintenance

My eyes bulge. “That’s eight thousand, Becca. I’m not made of money.”

“Actually …” she trails off with a smile.

“I don’t even know why we are still having this conversation. I’m not hiring some random guy to pretend to be my boyfriend for a few weeks.”

She shrugs just as someone knocks at our front door.

I look at her quizzically and she turns away from me. “Must be maintenance to fix our garbage disposal. I’ll let him in.”

I stand from my bed and shut my door. Thank you, Becca, for leaving my door wide open to let some guy into our apartment while I’m standing here in my bra.

Behind my now closed door, their voices are now muted. I finish dressing and pick up my phone just as it rings. It’s Levi.

“Hey! I got your note today. How thoughtful of you.” I smile in greeting.

“I just needed to make sure you were coming to the wedding.” He chuckles, but I can tell he’s just playing.

“I don’t know, I might be busy. I might need to wash my hair.”

“Ha, ha. Look, Kitty is driving me mad. She keeps bitching about how you’ve not RSVP’d yet.”

“I got the invitation in the mail two days ago, Levi.”

“I can hear the eyeroll, Ems.” He knows me too well.

“Side note, when is Kitty not bitching about me?” I offer, because the answer is all the time.

“True story.”

“The end.”

“I should probably warn you now, I just got word that she’s expecting you to come alone, and she’s inviting Craig. She’s seating you together. So, you might want to bring a plus one.”

“Why?” I moan and throw myself onto my bed, very dramatic-like. It would be GIF worthy for sure.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. Hey, I have another call I’ve got to take.”

“Okay, later.”

“Bye, Ems.”

The line goes dead.

Shit.

In addition to dealing with my family, the last thing I need is having to put up with Craig, my fucking ex-boyfriend. His family and mine go way back. When we were kids, we got along pretty well, then we dated for a few years in college. We ended it for few reasons. One, he fully expected me to become his wife, to put my brand-new diploma in a cabinet somewhere and tend to his beck and call. And two, I suspected that he was not being faithful. Plus, I really wasn’t that into him. I didn’t like him enough to put my career and dreams in a drawer and be the wife of a cheating, high-powered douche-lord.

Damn Kitty. She knows he’s a dick. She’s doing it to punish me, that’s for sure. If only Ididhave a boyfriend. But I’ve been so focused on my career, I haven’t really had time. I have dated a little, but there’s been nothing serious.

Mentally, I start to run through a list of single men I know who might be interested in being my date. There’s Seth, from the marketing department. He’s nice. Single. But he’s also kind of my direct report. Hmmm. Mark from accounting, he’s nice. But I think he is dating Janice from sales. I’m going to have to inquire about that tomorrow. I’m racking my brain for more men, when my phone beeps with a text.

Bex:I’ve just had the most brilliant idea ever.

Me:Oh, yay. Can’t wait to hear it.

Me:Why are you texting me?

The three bouncing dots show up on the screen while she types. I’m tempted to just get up and open my door to talk to her. But just then a picture comes through. It’s from our kitchen. Front and center is Jake the maintenance man, bending over our sink. He’s wearing a heather gray T-shirt, highlighting his muscular back. The snug-fit jeans, I suspect would hang low on his waist if it weren’t for his belt.

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