Page 63 of My Fearless Fake Fling

“Traverse City.”

“You know it’ll take me a few hours to get there. What if you sober up and decide you don’t want me after all?”

That was a good question. “Don’t be logical when I’m drunk,” I said. “Plus, I have a good answer.” My brain sort of froze for several beats.

The dead air hung between us before he prompted, “Kam?”

“What?” I startled. “I’m here.”

A second laugh. “What’s your good answer?”

“Oh, that… yeah, I’m in love with you. So…”

“So you’re coming to Iceland with me?”

“Well, I was gonna make you sweat and show up at eight-fifty-nine, like in one of those eighties movies. Then when you thought all hope was lost—boom!—I’d be there. But now I’m horny and miss you, and I forgive you because that was a really bad time for the both of us. And I’m horny. Did I say that already?” I shook my head.

The rumble from Len’s truck sounded in the background. “Which hotel?”

“The beach resort. But I’m not there. I’m at a vineyard.”

“Don’t drive.Shit—sorry,shite. Is there an employee nearby, preferably a woman?”

I scanned the room and found the perky blonde who talked about chocolate and walked over to her. “Here.” I shoved the phone in her face. “My boyfriend needs to talk to you.”

“Sure,” she said to me. “Hello?” To him. Then it was a one-sided conversation because I couldn’t hear Len. “Yes, sir. We have a service here at the vineyard.” Pause. “Absolutely. I’d be happy to.” More pausing. “It’s my pleasure. She’ll be well taken care of.” Then she handed the phone back to me. “He’d like to speak with you again.”

“His name is Lennon McCartney,” I announced. “Lennon, not Lenin… because his mom loved the Beatles, not the Bolsheviks.”

Both the woman and Len laughed at me.

“Go with the lady, okay? She’s going to put you in a car to take you back to the hotel. Which room are you in, Kam? Do you know?”

I thought hard as I walked, or, more like stumbled along with the woman who guided me by hanging on to my arm. “Two-Twelve,” I finally remembered.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to freak some poor couple out when I knock on the door.”

“Nope. I’m sure. Two-Twelve. That isdefentlywhere you’ll find me.”

“Defently, Kam? You are so never living this down, baby.”

“That’s okay. Do I get sex?”

The blonde walking slightly ahead of me turned to look at me. She bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh.

“When you’re sober,” Len answered. “Yes.”

The woman placed me in the backseat of a Lincoln Continental. Black. Nice and roomy. Expensive. I hoped I didn’t puke on the leather interior. My head felt spinny, spinish? All I knew was the driver helped me from the car and I sort of wobbled before I found my land legs. Though with a great deal of concentration, I walked in a not-quite-straight line back inside the resort and even made it to the elevator on my own.

There were too many buttons and I couldn’t exactly tell which one said two. Luckily, a bellhop carrying luggage stepped in with me just before the doors shut.

“Having trouble?” he asked.

“Point me to two?” I asked.

He pressed it for me and the elevator lifted up to the second floor. The doors opened and he held his hand against the open door so they wouldn’t close on me.

“Which room?”

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