Chapter 1

George

            I’m vaguely aware of the time. Something near dawn, perhaps. Not sure. Who cares? All I know is I need help and I need someone with a head on their shoulders. Someone smart. Someone who gives a shit about me.

            Scrolling through my mental rolodex, that’s actually a small list. Not that I care. I’ve never had much time for relationships. What I need right now is someone solid that can help me out of this mess.

            “Ford! Where are you? Get up! I need you!” I stand in the foyer of my only friend Ford’s spacious but simple home. It’s not quite a McMansion – more on the sparse side – but you can tell it’s well built. Everything is in the right place.

            That’s why I need Ford in my life. His whole life is ordered. With my crazy schedule and jokester ways, I can often get myself lost in my own chaos.

            Right now, I have more chaos than I know what to do with.

            “Ford! Need you, buddy! Get up!”

            My voice echoes off the pure white walls. Outside, the desert heat is already starting to bake but in here, the A/C is buzzing happily and the temperature is even. The pitch-black night is giving way to the hazy streaks of desert sunlight. Soon, the Vegas Strip will be hopping with tourists and would-be high rollers.

            Out in the ‘burbs, though, it’s like any Sunday morning. Quiet. Well, except for my hollering.

            “George…what? What are you doing here? Do you even know what time it is?” Ford says sleepily, coming down the stairs wearing an old t-shirt and boxers. His brown hair is disheveled, and his slightly babyish face is sprinkled with 5 o’clock shadow.

            I feel a slight twinge of guilt at disturbing him but Ford’s in the movie business. He’s used to weird hours. Besides, I really need him.

            “Sorry, man. Wouldn’t do it if this wasn’t super important,” I start to say but George raises a hand.

            “Yes, you would. Now, come into the kitchen and stop bellowing. You’ll wake Geneva.”

            “Too late,” comes a voice from the top of the stairs. Geneva leans against the banister, her braided hair in a cap, her eyes still half-closed in sleep. She wears shorts and a tank-top and her brown skin glows in the early morning light.

            I’ve always thought Geneva was one hell of a catch. And I’ve also wondered how Ford snagged her. Then I remember she’s also got a good head on her shoulders and that must have appealed to him.

As a movie director, Ford is surrounded by bimbo wannabe actresses and a crazy assortment of hangers-on. When Geneva took the job as a personal assistant in his film company, Ford quickly saw just how even keeled and smart she was. Better still, she was not interested in sleeping her way to the top.

            Ironically, she’s now sleeping with him. But for purely personal reasons. I must respect that. Now, however, I’ve got other things on my mind.

            “Sorry, G,” I call up the stairs as I follow Ford into the kitchen where he starts to brew coffee.

            “Talk to me,” Ford says, measuring out the grounds.

            “I need a wife.”

            Laughter comes from behind me as Geneva joins us. “You need a what now?”

            “It’s not a laughing matter. I need a wife. And I need her fast.”

            Ford gestures for me to sit at the high café chairs along the counter. “Take a load off and tell me what’s going on. My brain is still half asleep so I can’t tell if you are talking nonsense or not.”

            He’s right, of course. I need to slow down and give them both some background info. My brain is swimming.

            Forcing myself to take a few deep breaths, I start at the beginning. “Okay. So, about six years ago, I had a fling---”

            “Oh, here we go,” Ford says, knowingly. I let the crack slide.

            “And turns out, I got the woman pregnant.” There’s a pause and then I add the rest. It’s obvious, yet still requires the obligatory explanation. “I have a kid. He’s five now. His name is Greg.” The words tumble out in a rush.

            Geneva, who is now sitting a few chairs from me, picks up an apple from the bowl of fruit sitting there and then puts it back. “When did you find all this out?”

            “About Greg? A week ago.”

            “What? How the… Okay….” Ford closes his eyes for a moment and then prompts me to continue.

            “His mother died. I’m not sure how. He’s being raised by an aunt. And-,” I begin, pulling out a sheaf of papers folded and bent from my inner jacket pocket. “She is threatening to sue me for being a deadbeat dad. See for yourself.” I slap the papers in front of Ford who peers down to read them.

“See how much this grifter wants from me! Even if I wanted to pay her off, there’s no way I’m selling off Techno Services to give her the money. I worked too hard to build that company!”

Rage comes off me in waves, but I give Ford a second to read the papers. He clears his throat after he reads and then hands the pages to Geneva. “Let me make sure I have this right: she wants $20 million from you?”

“Yup. Can you believe that? So – I need custody of Greg. That’s the only way I can get out of this.”

Geneva pipes up, her face still aimed at the papers. “Did you try settling out of court?”

“No dice. She won’t even hear about it. All she wants is $20 million. I can’t believe it.”

Ford rubs his eyes while turning to grab some coffee mugs from the cupboard. “All right, I need a second. You have a kid that you just found out existed a week ago. The kid’s mom is dead, and the kid’s aunt is after your millions. Where, exactly, does the need for a wife fit in?”

Geneva tsks in agreement. “I was wondering that too, boo.”

I wish I could laugh with them about this. On the surface it does sound utterly ridiculous, but this is my life we’re talking about, not some sitcom.

Yet another deep breath. “My lawyer thinks it’s the best shot I have at gaining custody. The aunt is going to throw everything at me to prove I’m not fit to have him. If I have a wife, I look stable, able to take care of things, prove that I’m not a—”

“Chaos muppet?” Ford interjects. He isn’t being unkind. Merely truthful. Good friends will always tell you the truth – even when it hurts.

“It’s not going to be easy. The kid doesn’t even know I exist yet. And yes, I have the money but I’m not going to just give it to someone who clearly doesn’t even care about Greg either. She’s just using him! I need to get this settled. And fast.”

“Why am I only just hearing about this kid now?” Ford asks.

“I needed to be sure. The results just came in. He’s mine. But now the real fight begins.”

Geneva shakes her head as Ford pours the coffees. There’s a moment where everyone’s wheels are spinning. Mine most of all.

“Told you all that womanizing would bite you in the ass someday. Gotta watch where you spread your wild oats, my friend.” Ford is unsparing this morning. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I did wake him and his girlfriend on a Sunday morning, after all.

“I’m not a womanizer! I just…” I let out a huge sigh.

Geneva pats my shoulder as my face heats in embarrassment.

“I need your help, Ford. And yours too, Geneva, if you’re willing to give it. I’m sorry I woke you like this.” There. I’m near the bottom of the barrel. How much lower can I go?

Clicking her spoon against her mug, Geneva changes tactics. “So, on the advice of your legal counsel, you need a wife to sell the image of being the responsible family guy. And how, exactly, does this wife magically materialize?”

I look up at them both. This is the part of the plan I have thought about ahead of time. “With all your connections in the film world, I thought you could find me someone, Ford.”

“You want me to hire you a wife?” Ford asks. I can’t tell if he’s messing with me so I plow on.

“Yeah! Someone who is the picture of perfect mother material. Someone nice, soft-spoken, and can treat Greg well. Bonus if they cook and take care of my house.”

Both Geneva and Ford look at me for a hot second before they both burst out laughing. Geneva sputters through her giggles. “Sounds like we’d be hiring you a nanny, not a wife!”

My cheeks heat once more. Maybe it is entirely ridiculous. But I don’t have a lot of choices here.

“I’ll be straight with you, friend. There’s no one in the entertainment industry who is going to take that on. They won’t settle like that. It’s not the breed.”

“Can’t you hold an audition or something?” I’m desperate here.

“No actress is going to do that for you, George. No one. This is real life we’re talking about here.”

“What if she falls in love with him?” Geneva asks, as if I’m suddenly not in the room. I pipe up, eager to re-establish myself.

“That’s also a condition: she absolutely can’t be my type. No blondes, not sexy, not bold or outgoing. There will be no falling in love!” I blurt out. Surely she’s out there, right? I’m asking for the opposite of a supermodel.

“Where the hell are we going to find that?” Ford asks in consternation. “Do you think we can just conjure this wife out of nothing?!”

The air in the room turns icy and for many moments, no one speaks. The smell of coffee wafts through the kitchen as we each sit in our own thoughts.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should not have burdened my friends with this problem. But if they can’t help me, who can?

Chapter 2

Katarina

            The scuff on my shoe isn’t coming off. No matter how many times I rub it on the back of my other leg, the scuff is still there. Mocking me, almost.

            Oh well. Maybe you can’t notice it from far away? Or maybe I can find a way of standing that hides it? I only have this and my sneakers. If I’m going to make a good impression and get a good job out here, I’m going to have to look presentable.

            Add it to the wish-list, I sigh to myself.

            The airport is bustling all around me. Some of the travelers are the usual fare: businessmen looking important with efficient looking suitcases, bedraggled families with strollers and stuffed animals, and slow-moving retirees.

            But this is Vegas so there’s some unusual visitors as well. As I wait for my cousin to arrive and pick me up, I watch the crowds of giggling women ready to embark on noisy bachelorette weekends, the bros bragging about what high rollers they are going to be, and the giddy couples ready to find the nearest wedding chapel.

            Las Vegas never fails to put on a good show. That’s maybe why I feel so utterly out of place here. The buzzing energy in the air, the possibility of riches, the thrill seekers.

            I’m just here to make some money and chip away at this mountain of debt that looms over me. If it has to be here, in crazy Vegas, so be it.

            Well, that and the fact that Geneva lives here.

            Were it not for my cousin Geneva, I’d be pretty alone in this world. My mom’s death about six months ago has left me feeling pretty empty. Not only do I miss her, but I still feel sort of adrift. I don’t know what to do with myself without the responsibility of taking care of her.

It was Geneva that helped me see that there could be a life for me beyond living in a small town. A small town I never left so I could care for Mom in her final years. 

Years that were filled with cancer treatments, pain, discomfort and yes…medical bills. It’s more than I know what to do with, and it’s weighing heavily on me. 

I wasn’t exactly in a place to do much about it, even when she was alive. Though I had a job, taking care of a cancer patient is expensive.  I needed too much time off work and focused on keeping her comfortable, not the cost of it all.

Not like my meager salary would have covered it, anyway. And we had no alternative. She was sick and we did what we had to do. 

But now, with all these bills still my responsibility, it’s a lot to figure out. On top of that, I’m not sure how to pull myself back together, now that she’s gone.

            Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I scan the crowds of travelers moving from gates to luggage racks to the doors that open to the blasting heat of the Nevada desert. I’ve kept things light, only packing one simple suitcase.

            Not like I have a ton of stuff anyway, I think ruefully.

            “Hey there, stranger!” A friendly voice calls and I see Geneva walking towards me with her arms open. She is taller than I am, and we share some of the same facial features, but it’s her demeanor that really sets us apart. Where I am quiet and reserved, she is confident and bold.

            Nothing seems to scare her while my own shadow gives me pause. Without Geneva, I don’t know where I’d be right now. She wanted to make things easy for me by lending me the money I needed to settle my debts, but a deeply rooted pride wouldn’t let me.

            “Find me a job and that’ll be the most I’ll take from you,” I had told her on the phone. So, here I am, now hugging her and taking what strength I can from her strong embrace.

            “It’s good to see you, Kat. I really think this will be a good change for you.”

            “Good to see you too,” I reply, steering clear from offering an opinion on how well I think this experiment is going to go.

            “That’s it? One bag?” Geneva says, pulling it from my hands.

            “Ah...yup! Travel light, you know?” I mumble, as she leads me to the airport doors.

            “Whatever you say! Follow me…” Geneva calls over her shoulder, as she approaches a sleek midnight blue car, one of those crossover SUV things. The furnace of the desert hits me full in the face only to be quickly replaced by a shot of cold air as I open the car door.

            “Hey there, Katarina!” Ford calls from the driver’s seat. Geneva clambers into the front passenger seat while I sit in the roomy bench seat behind.

            “Hi, Ford. How are you?”

            “Great! You ready for this new adventure? Promise it won’t be dull,” he says, pulling out into the sneaking arrivals traffic ringing through the airport.

            “Sure am!” I say, with false enthusiasm. If I had my way, dull would always be the name of the game. My dream job is as a librarian. I had it, for a while in a part-time capacity back home. But now I need real money.

            Geneva has lured me here with the promise that being a personal assistant is lucrative, if tiring. At this point, as the bills mount and the collections calls keep ringing, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get this debt under control.

            Even if it means wearing scuffed shoes.

            “You hungry?” Geneva calls from the front as I watch the odd trees and bright lights whiz past my window. At her question, I realize that I’m starving. 

Having never been flush with money, eating is mostly a scavenging activity for me. You eat when and where you can and you’re grateful for it. Nothing fancy for this gal.

            “Umm, yes, I am,” I mumble.

            “What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” Geneva says, her tone jovial but insistent.

            Note to self: learn to stop mumbling.

            “Yes, yes I am,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. Maybe the motel I’m booked to stay at has a vending machine or something?

           “Good! Then we’re taking you to dinner!”

            I start to protest but Geneva whirls in her seat and looks at me. “No protests. You are going to eat and you are going to eat well. My gift to you.”

            I shut my mouth. My mother always taught me to accept a gift when given and Geneva knows this.

            “So…what’s new?” I say, trying to diffuse the feeling of guilt I have at accepting Geneva’s offer of dinner.

           “Oh, not much. Except Ford and I now live together!” There’s a streak of genuine giddiness in her voice and I can’t help but be happy for her.

            “How wonderful! Congrats!”

            Geneva’s face grows serious. “Where are you staying again?”

            “Uh… the Gold Spike, I think it’s called?” I reply, fumbling in my purse for the reservation info.

            “Cancel it.”

            “What?”

            “I said, cancel it. You aren’t staying in that nasty place. You are going to stay in one of Ford’s rental condos. It’s super nice and you’ll absolutely love it.”

            This is all too much. It’s one thing to accept a dinner. It’s quite another to live in someone’s condo – no matter how extra it is to their lives.

            “Oh, I couldn’t do that. Or if I did, I would need to pay for it---”

            “Not at all. You are my cousin, which means you are family. You aren’t paying a thing.”

            “Look at it this way, Kat,” Ford pipes up, his eyes on the road. “You’re actually doing me a favor. With you in there, I know someone trustworthy is looking after it. Do you know how hard it is to be a landlord here in Vegas? People are crazy!”

            Geneva gives me a glare that tells me there will be no arguing. Instead, I give the only response she’ll take. “Thanks, Ford. I’ll make sure your place is well taken care of.”

            “I know it,” he says happily and returns to focusing on the road.

            It takes a while to make our way through Vegas traffic but soon enough, Ford pulls into the parking lot of Village Pub & Poker. Though it looks comically overdone on the outside, I’ve heard about this place. The food is supposed to be stellar and it has been around long enough to have become a go-to spot.                          

            As we pull in, Ford gets to talking. “So, I’ve got a bead on a personal assistant job for you. For an actor. He’s just starting out, so it’ll be pretty easy at first. And he’s not demanding like some of them can be. Think it’ll be a good training ground for you.”

            “Thanks, Ford. I really can’t thank you enough.”

            He puts the car’s e-brake on. “You can thank me by enjoying dinner,” he says. His kind eyes smile at me and I realize why Geneva is with him. Kind, gentle and caring. Doesn’t every girl want that?

            We get out of the car and Ford strides ahead to get us a table. Pulling Geneva aside, I slow her down. I need a second with her alone. “Geneva – thank you. I’m really grateful. You have no idea—”

           “I think I do, babe,” she starts to say.

            “No, you might not” I say, my eyes focused on the ground. I have to tell her this but I’m not good at such things. “The calls are getting worse. I have to make monthly payments if I’m going to get them off my back…”

            “Once you get that job going, the money will start to work out.”

            “It’s pretty bad. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful to you both. Beyond grateful. But I think I’ll find an extra gig once I get settled. Just to help a little.”

            “The offer still stands for a loan, you know,” she says, her eyes stern but warm.

            “I want to do this on my own. You’ve already helped too much already.”

            She looks like she’s about to argue but stops herself. Instead, she grabs me by the shoulders and looks me square in the eyes. “You’re going to get right here. You’ll make the money you need, and we’ll get those assholes off you, okay? You don’t worry now. Let’s get some steak.”

            Her confidence helps boost my own. I nod and we walk into the restaurant, a charming mix of old-fashioned Americana mixed with the Wild West.

            The food is delicious and with Ford’s encouragement and Geneva’s thinly veiled threats, I actually manage to enjoy myself. Time flies by and my belly and heart are soon full.

            Hours later, Ford drops me off at the condo. The keys sit heavy in my hands. Though they offer to help me get settled, I wave them off, painfully aware how much of their time, energy and money I’ve taken already.

            Finally, with much cajoling, they get back in the car and head home, leaving me standing in an unfamiliar living room in an unfamiliar building in a very unfamiliar city.

            A sense of profound loss and lack of direction infuses me as I stand dumbly in the center of the room, the keys dangling from my fingers.

            “What should I do now, Mom?” I ask the air.

The room stays silent.