Chapter Text
The bar smelled like stale beer and a sad attempt at holiday cheer with pine-scented cleaner. She wiped down the same spot on the counter for the third time, hearing a groan from some local over the football or hockey game they had on the one sad TV mounted in the corner that was half obstructed with dim multi-colored lights that give the impression of melancholy more so than yuletide joy.
Her phone buzzed against her thigh.
She ignored it. No one important had her number, and if they did, it probably meant nothing good.
It buzzed again
"You gonna get that?" Kevyn called from the other end of the bar, somehow reading her mind despite being elbow-deep in dirty pint glasses.
"No."
"Could be important."
"It's not."
Another buzz. Then another.
Nat sighed and pulled the phone from her pocket. Unknown number. Probably spam or someone who needed something. She almost put it back, but her thumb caught on the preview text.
Hi, is this Natalie?
I got your number from the ad you posted
Is the offer still available?
Nat stared at the screen. She typed back one-handed, still holding the bar rag in the other.
what ad
The buzz hit the moment she tried to put the phone back in her pocket.
The one about being someone's date for the holidays? I know it was posted a while ago but I was hoping you might still be interested
Nat’s brain tried to come up with something. Holiday date? She vaguely had some recollection of something but that was months ago. She and Kevyn had been crossed beyond belief, sitting at this very bar after close, coming up with increasingly stupid ways to make rent. She remembered typing something, laughing in the way where the room spun a bit. But she has no idea what they came up with.
gonna need you to send me what you're talking about
cause i got no idea
Another buzz and then a screenshot loaded.
STRICTLY PLATONIC HOLIDAY DATE - $$ (Wiskayok)
I am a 23 year old female felon who has no degree, come from a broken background so that can be played into for all the prissy backgrounds who'd scoff at the scuff marks on my boots that already have the soles coming undone. I drive a busted up red pickup truck that has no functioning seatbelts. I can play between the ages of 20-30 depending on the day. I'm a line cook and work late nights at a bar (you can ask me where to get good weed). If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship (monogamous or polyamorous, whichever sounds most like it would freak out su familia) with you (and/or others), to torment your family, I'm game.
I can do these things at your request:
- Openly hit on female/male guests while you act like you don't notice
- Share inappropriate PDAs with you in front of homophobic Grandpa (girls only). This includes overuse of tongue, groping, humping, miming oral sex—whatever you need.
- Pretend (or actually be) to be really drunk as the evening goes on. I can convincingly (or, again, actually be) play high as well.
- Propose to you in front of everyone (while pretending to be drunk/high, if you like)
- Start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see. Cousin, Uncle Luke, the cat—whoever.
Pay depends on the offer but the free meal I will receive as a guest is a guarantee!
do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers
"What the fuck did we do?" Nat mumbled under her breath as she read the first few lines, refusing to read anymore.
Kevyn's head snapped up. "What?"
Nat turned the phone so he could see the screen. He squinted at it, then his face split into a grin that could have lit the dead bulbs.
"Holy shit, you actually posted that?"
"We posted that. You were there."
"I was present. You were the one typing." He leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "So? Someone actually bit?"
Nat looked back at the message. Read it again. The person whoever they were had sent three messages in a rapid-fire which meant they were either pathetic or insane. Most likely both.
"Guess so."
Her phone buzzed again.
So is the offer still a thing?
Nat chewed the inside of her cheek. The smart thing would be to say no. Tell them it was a joke, sorry for the confusion, have a nice life. She had enough going on in her world without adding whatever this was going to be.
But rent was due in two weeks. And her truck needed an oil change. And she'd been eating forgotten bar food for four days straight.
depends
how much are we talking
$500?
Nat's thumb hovered over the keyboard. Five hundred dollars to eat a free meal and piss off some rich family. She'd done worse for less.
when
Christmas Eve
thats in like two weeks
I know
Is that a problem?
Nat glanced up at the local yelling at the TV again. She looked over at Kevyn, who was watching her with that stupid knowing expression he got whenever he thought Nat was about to do something stupid.
"What?" she said.
"Nothing." He went back to the glasses, still grinning like an asshole. "Just thinking this is either the best or worst decision you've ever made."
"It's five hundred bucks for one night."
"Uh-huh."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." He dried a pint glass, held it up to the light, found a spot, kept drying. "Just seems like the kind of thing that starts simple and ends with you doing something stupid."
"I don't do stupid things."
Kevyn looked at her. Just looked at her.
"Shut up," Nat said.
Her phone buzzed again.
Hello?
If it's too short notice I understand
I can try to find someone else
Something in those messages, the quick follow-up, the backpedaling made Nat's fingers move before her brain caught up.
no its fine
but we're doing this my way
my rules
The pause stretched longer this time. Nat almost pocketed the phone.
Okay
Can we meet first? To go over everything?
sure
Tomorrow? There's a coffee place on Main, the one with all the Christmas decorations. Does 2pm work?
Nat looked at the message. Looked at Kevyn. Looked at the bar with its sad string of multicolored lights, the ones that still worked blinking in a rhythm that had probably given someone a seizure at some point.
Five hundred dollars.
yeah sure
Great! I'm Jackie btw
See you tomorrow!
Nat shoved the phone back in her pocket. Kevyn was watching her over her shoulder clearly reading what he could from the messages.
"What?" she said.
"Jackie," he said, drawing out the name like it was funny.
"So?"
"Nothing. Just..." He set down the glass. "A couple days before Christmas. Coffee shop on Main. Girl named Jackie.” He shook his head. “You're about to get yourself into some romcom bullshit, aren't you?"
"It's five hundred dollars."
"Sure," Kevyn said. "That's definitely the only reason you said yes."
Nat threw the bar rag at him. He caught it, laughing, and went back to the dishes.
The coffee shop looked like Christmas had thrown up inside it and then decorated the vomit.
Garland wrapped around every surface. Twinkle lights draped across the windows in patterns that probably caused a few seizures to the unassuming. A tree in the corner, so covered in ornaments Nat couldn't see the fake branches. The whole place smelled aggressively of peppermint and gingerbread fighting it out and neither winning. Nat stood just inside the door, letting it fall shut behind her, and considered leaving.
She looked around trying to find whoever this Jackie was. Nothing about the messages gave an impression of her rather than a desperate girl with money. And by the sweep over the shop it looked like that was a commodity here.
Then her eyes landed on a girl in a corner booth. Her age, blonde, cable-knit sweater and jeans that probably cost more than what Nat made in a month. Pretty in that casual, effortless way that meant money. The kind of pretty that made Nat want to leave immediately, because girls like that didn't end up on Craigslist looking for fake dates unless something was seriously wrong.
The girl looked up. Green eyes traveled the length of Nat’s body. Bleached hair with two inches of dark roots, leather jacket that was nearly all smooth besides the few flakey spots, jeans that had rips that weren't there on purpose and boots held together with duct tape. Something flicked too quickly across her face to pinpoint.
Nat walked over. Each step felt like more reason to retreat especially with the way this girl was watching her.
"Natalie?" The presumed Jackie questioned as she rose to greet her.
"Nat." She slid into the booth across from her, nodded at the mug. "You already order?"
"Oh. Yeah. Do you want something? I can—" Jackie gestured halfheartedly toward the counter.
"I'm good."
Jackie sat back down. Her fingers went tapping. Nat counted four taps before Jackie seemed to realize she was doing it and flattened her palms on the table instead.
"Thanks for meeting me," Jackie said. "I know this is probably weird."
"Yeah, well. Five hundred bucks buys a lot of weird." Nat shoved her hands in her coat pockets. The vinyl booth was cold through her jeans despite the place blasting heat.
A small smile. Jackie’s thumb traced the rim of her mug. "Right. The money. I can give you half now, if you want? As a deposit or whatever?"
Nat shrugged. "Half now, half after. Sure."
Jackie reached for her purse, pulled out an envelope. It looked pre-prepared, crisp and white. She slid it across the table, fingers lingering on the edge before pulling back.
Nat picked it up, felt the weight of it. Tucked it into her jacket without opening it.
"You're not going to count it?" Jackie’s voice went up slightly.
"You gonna short-change me?" Nat raised an eyebrow at her.
"No, I just—most people would count it." Jackie replied seemingly more off put.
"I'm not most people." Nat leaned back, one arm slung over the booth. "Besides, if it's light, I know where to find you."
Jackie's smile flickered, uncertain if that was a joke or a threat.
"You found me through a months-old Craigslist ad three weeks before Christmas," Nat said. "I'm pretty sure if you were going to scam me, you'd be better at it."
Jackie's smile got a little wider. A little more real. "Fair point."
"So." Nat crossed her arms. "You want to tell me why you need this? The ad mentioned Thanksgiving, but you're asking about Christmas Eve."
"Right. Yeah." Jackie's fingers found the mug again, wrapping around it like she needed something to hold onto. "So. My boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, Jeff. He, um. He cheated on me."
"Okay."
"With my best friend. Shauna."
Nat let out a low whistle and sunk deeper into the booth. "Low blow."
"Yeah." Jackie's laugh was bitter, sharp-edged. "And the thing is, my family loves them. Both of them. Jeff was at every holiday, every birthday. Shauna was practically a daughter to my parents. So when we broke up, when I told them what happened, they didn't... they didn't believe me. Or they did, but they thought I must have done something to cause it. Or that I was overreacting. Or—"
The mug made a small sound against the table as she set it down too hard.
"They invited them," she said quietly. "To Christmas Eve. Both of them. Together. Because apparently we're all adults and we should be able to handle this maturely."
Nat watched her. The way Jackie's jaw was set, the tension in her shoulders, the careful control in her voice that was barely holding.
"And you want me to show up as your girlfriend," Nat said. "Make them uncomfortable instead."
"Basically." Jackie finally looked up, met Nat's eyes straight on. "I know it's stupid. I know it's—it's petty and immature and probably makes me a bad person, but I just—" Her voice cracked slightly. "I can't sit there and watch them play happy family while I'm supposed to just smile and deal with it."
"So you picked a girl." Nat kept her voice even. "Why a girl? Shock factor? You actually gay? Because I know a hundred guys who'd do this for free."
Jackie's face went carefully blank. "I—uh—"
"You know what..." Nat tapped her jacket pocket where the envelope sat. "Doesn't matter. I'm walking away with five hundred bucks either way. Your reasons are your business."
The relief that washed over Jackie's face was almost painful to watch.
"Thank you," she said.
"So what do you need from me?" Nat asked. "Just show up, hold your hand, piss off your family?"
"Basically. I mean—" Jackie reached into her bag looking for something. "I made a list of things we should probably have our stories straight on. Like how we met, how long we've been together, what you do—"
"I'm a line cook. Work at a bar." Nat gestured at herself. "Everything else in that ad was pretty accurate, I'm sure. I was too drunk to lie when I wrote it.”
"Right. I saw." Something in Jackie's voice made Nat look up. "The boots too."
Nat glanced down at her feet, at the soles that were more duct tape than rubber at this point. When she looked back up, Jackie was watching her intently.
"How long have we been together?" Nat narrowed her eyes on Jackie.
"Three months?"
"Sure. How'd we meet?"
"The bar?"
"Works for me. I can improvise the rest." Nat drummed her fingers once on the table a finishing gesture to wrap this up.
Jackie looked startled at the movement. "Don't you want to—I mean, shouldn't we plan this out more? What if they ask specific questions?"
"Then I'll answer them."
"But what if you say something that contradicts what I say?"
"Then we'll look like a real couple who doesn't have their shit together." Nat leaned forward. "Look, if you want this to be believable, the worst thing we can do is memorize a script. People can smell that fake bullshit from a mile away. You want them to think I'm your disaster girlfriend? Let me be a disaster."
Jackie was quiet for a moment, fingers still wrapped around her mug, studying Nat's face like she was trying to figure out if this was confidence or stupidity.
"Okay," she said finally. "Okay, we'll improvise."
"Great." Nat started to slide out of the booth, one leg already out. "Text me the address and what time you want me there."
"Wait—" Jackie's hand shot out, stopping just short of grabbing Nat's arm. "That's it? We're done?"
Nat paused, half-standing, half-sitting. "You know what you need. I know what I'm getting paid. What else is there?"
"I just thought—" Jackie pulled her hand back, curled it into her lap. "I don't know. That we'd need to spend more time together. Get comfortable or something."
Nat stood the rest of the way up. Jackie was looking at her with something that might have been disappointment, which didn't make any sense because this was a transaction. A business deal. An easy five hundred dollars.
"You've got my number," Nat said. "You need something before Christmas Eve, you can call me. Otherwise, I'll see you there."
She made it three steps toward the door. Could even feel the cold air threatening to burst in. The promise of escape teasing at her skin.
"Nat?"
She turned.
Jackie was standing now, playing with her hands to ground herself. The afternoon light coming through the window lit her up from behind, made her look soft and golden and completely out of place in Nat's world.
"Just..." Jackie bit her lip. "Thank you. For doing this. I know it's weird."
Nat shrugged with one shoulder. "Weirder things have happened for five hundred bucks."
She pushed through the door into the cold. The coffee shop's Christmas music followed her out, muffled and distant, mixing with the sound of traffic and someone's car stereo blaring out George Michael’s vocals.
Her phone buzzed before she'd made it to her truck.
Thanks again for meeting me. I really appreciate it. I'll send you the address later. Let me know if you need anything before then!
One long message instead of three short ones. Progress from before. Nat climbed into the truck, turned the key, listened to the engine make concerning noises before finally catching.
She should delete the message. Should probably delete Jackie's number entirely, show up on Christmas Eve, get her money, and never think about this again.
Instead, she typed back with her thumb, squinting at the tiny screen.
ok
She put the phone in the cupholder, put the truck in reverse.
That weird feeling in her chest was just the coffee shop's peppermint assault catching up with her.
Had to be.