The Setup Read online

  Leo grinned. “Aw, Jilly—”

  “Jillian.” I corrected, grabbing my scissors and pointing them in his direction.

  “Jillian,” he said smoothly. “Let us help, I mean this is what we do. Plus, the band’s all back together, and as much as we love our jobs here, we’re really good at helping people find out their needs…”

  My eyes narrowed. “Did you just go all Pleasure Pony on me?”

  “He used the voice,” Slater groaned into his hands. “Look, what he’s trying to say is, let us help you build a guy who’s best for you. At least then you won’t be stressing over it.”

  The idea had merit. Especially since I had my first double date with Finn tomorrow night.

  Ugh.

  He was probably matched with some supermodel lookalike, perfect skin, thin, huge boobs, thigh gap.

  “Do it!” I accidentally shouted at them. I think the thigh gap threw me over the edge, I mean who the heck even had a thigh gap in this day and age without undergoing cosmetic surgery?

  “Excellent.” Leo started typing in the phone, then Knox grabbed it and muttered something about being funny, Slater grabbed it last, and his laser-like focus was almost unsettling as he typed in a few things.

  They tossed the phone back at me.

  I barely caught it. “Wait, that was like three minutes?”

  Leo looked hurt as he put his hand across his chest. “My dear lady, we’re professionals.”

  Slater and him high five while Knox shared a small smile with me.

  Instantly nervous, I looked down as the app calculated my perfect matches, most of the testers were getting a small stipend to beta the app, the one stipulation was they had to be single and looking.

  The Wingmen logo turned in circles, and then finally stopped.

  Ten matches.

  “I have ten matches!” I gripped my phone so hard my hand hurt. “I’m not a loser!”

  “Settle,” Slater lowered his voice. “Celebrate maybe, on the inside. “

  “Sorry,” I grumbled. “Okay, so now what? I just contact the first guy on here and let him know I want to get together Friday night on a double date?”

  “Easy.” Slater nodded.

  Leo and Knox shared a look, and then Knox held out his hand again. “Where are you guys meeting?”

  “Taqueria, downtown by Pier Sixty.”

  Knox’s fingers typed fast across my screen, and then he grinned up at me. “He can’t wait! By the way, he’s going to wear black, like the color of your eyes.”

  “Er, my eyes are hazel.”

  “Hey, I thought we asked for a smart one?” Slater looked confused at his friends while Knox handed me my phone back.

  “He’s probably joking,” Leo added with a shrug. “All right, let us know how it goes!”

  And then they were gone.

  My knights in shining armor with asshole tendencies.

  I shook my head and stared down at my phone.

  Mark seemed nice.

  Mark had a huge smile and muscles.

  Mark also wore glasses, which made him look smart.

  Hmmm… I could like Mark.

  Mark and I were going to have a good time.

  I just hoped that I could keep my cool around Finn while he charmed the pants off of a Brooke, or Stacy, or Brit—because those were the type of girls that he dated.

  No Jillys.

  And certainly not Jillians.

  Chapter Five

  Finn

  Me: Want me to pick you up?

  Jillian: For?

  Me: Our dates tonight. Want me to swing by your house, apartment, troll box down by the water?

  Jillian: What’s a troll box?

  Me: A small box trolls live in, you know because you’re small.

  Jillian: I’m not small.

  Me: Knox isn’t small; you’re a curvy little—well, I would finish that sentence, but I don’t want HR up my ass, and since our carrot-obsessed office manager is all-seeing, like Sauron, I’ll let you use your imagination.

  Jillian: Lord of the Rings reference, your inner nerd is showing.

  Me: I don’t try to hide it.

  She didn’t type back right away, and then.

  Jillian: I’ll just meet you there, I live pretty close, and I like walking. Gets rid of the first date nerves.

  Me: You’re nervous?

  Jillian: I’m meeting a complete stranger, and I have you as my wingman, who wouldn’t be nervous?

  Me: I’m a damn good wingman!

  Jillian: Sure, you are.

  I grumbled.

  Me: We need a safe word, a word we use when we want to bail on the dates if they’re horrible.

  Jillian: Carrot.

  I burst out laughing.

  Me: Yeah, that’s not going to fit into normal conversation. Oh sorry, my carrot hurts really bad right now, or my carrot just got in a car accident! How about bite?

  Jillian: But what if I accidentally say bite and I like my date?

  Me: Good point, feel free to kick me under the table then.

  Jillian: I like this plan.

  Me: I knew including violence would win you over.

  Jillian: Asshole said I can kick him!

  Me: Um, only if you like your date and by the looks of Mark, I’m thinking you’re going to be screaming bite at the top of your lungs within five minutes—his hobby’s hula hooping.

  Jillian: Which means he’s right-brain oriented. Perfect for me!

  Me: You do realize what hula hooping is, right?

  Jillian: I’ll see you in a few minutes!

  Me: Dismissed. Damn, you’re cold. Okay, see you in fifteen!

  I put my phone away, grabbed my keys, and hopped in my white Audi R8. I didn’t often spend money on myself, but my car was the one thing I gave myself permission to splurge on.

  I lived in a nice apartment.

  And I had nice clothes.

  But all of my money was there for investing, for creating a life for my sister and me that didn’t include our money-hungry parents.

  I shuddered.

  Things were still bad.

  They were still begging us for money, asking us to sign over part of our trust funds.

  Not that they could legally do that, but still, when your own parents threaten to disown you because they need shopping money—it messes with your head.

  I drove in relative silence toward the restaurant, then gave my keys to the valet and grabbed my ticket.

  My date’s name was Brooke, which for some reason, had made Jillian roll her eyes so hard when I told her, I was surprised they didn’t get stuck in her eyebrows.

  I was wearing jeans and a blazer with a band T-shirt underneath, casual but trendy. And I’d specifically told Jillian not to dress up like an uptight librarian.

  Fingers crossed she listened.

  I was just getting ready to text her when I heard a throat clear behind me.

  I turned.

  And almost dropped my phone.

  Jillian’s hair was pulled back into a tight bun on the top of her head, and her white slinky dress hugged every delicious curve. It was sleeved, and the front had a bit of a plunging neckline. Her heels were, once again, two inches, and she still wasn’t up to my shoulders.

  I grinned and then reached for her without thinking, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re the anti-librarian today. I love it.”

  “You better.” She hugged me back and then wiggled in her dress. “I’m wearing SPANX for you!”

  I gasped. “Really? Just for me? Do I get to peel them off later? Too far?”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Finn, I say this honestly. If you could get them off of me, you should be sainted for your efforts. Why are they so tight?”

  She wiggled again.

  I bit back a curse. Damn, that ass.

  “Pro tip.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Get a bigger size.”

  An outraged gasp followed by a small punch in the stomach. “Did you just ca
ll me fat?”

  “Not at all.” I led her into the restaurant. “I just know women, all right? Buy the right size, and it will still look great, nothing worse than wearing something tight and staring longingly at the queso with the knowledge that if you ate it, your zipper would ping someone in the face, thereby tripping the waiter, and causing him to drop the flaming lava cake, promptly setting the restaurant on fire.”

  She gaped up at me. “Good to know my SPANX are tight enough to call the fire department. On that note…”

  I groaned. “Don’t tell me firemen do it for you?”

  “A man in uniform does it for everyone,” she said slowly. “I thought you said you knew women?”

  “Yes, well, I was just hoping you wouldn’t be like ninety-nine percent of them,” I said, not realizing that I was actually speaking the truth.

  “Sorry to disappoint.” She winked. “A man who knows how to work a hose—”

  I coughed to cover my choking.

  “Get your head out of the gutter, Titus.” She laughed.

  And I fell a little bit in love with her laugh.

  And with the way she did it so freely.

  And the way she did it by my side.

  “What are you staring at?” she whispered.

  “You must be JILLIAN!” A man straight up yelled her name, and at a pace, I could only describe as a hard sprint, made it to her side in three seconds. “I’m Mark!” He grabbed her hand with both of his and shook for longer than five seconds.

  I almost saved her when she jerked her hand away and gave me a panicked look.

  My bored expression was all she got back, even though I was ready to run Mark over with my car for no other reason than he touched her longer than I got to.

  “Finn?” A woman a bit taller than Jillian approached. She had long, jet-black hair, a perfect pink pout, and hypnotic blue eyes. “Are you Finn?”

  “Brooke?” I offered my hand.

  She took my arm instead like we were familiar. “OMG, I’ve been waiting for this all week! My girls back at Delta Zeta were so jealous that I landed a date with a Titus!”

  I felt my entire body stiffen. I would rather her be dumber than a box of rocks than after me for my money and last name.

  Jillian cleared her throat. “Hey, Brooke, I’m Finn’s cousin, Jillian.”

  We never agreed to that. What was she playing at?

  “WOW, two Tituses!” Brooke looked ready to pee her fucking pants. “Let’s get our drink on!” She pulled out her phone. “But first, group selfie!”

  Mark looked ready to bolt.

  Me too, bro, me too.

  She took the picture and edited it as we walked toward the bar.

  “Hey, can you make my butt look smaller?” Jillian asked with a grin.

  “Oh, honey, of course. I was just going to do it anyway, but it’s so good when we know our own flaws so we can fix them on social media, you know?”

  Jillian lunged.

  I reached behind Brooke and grabbed Jillian before she could scratch Brooke’s eyes out.

  “I was kidding!” She mouthed at me.

  “She. Is. Dumb.” I mouthed back. “Humor…” I passed my hand over my head, earning a giggle from Jillian that had me feeling like everything was right in the world again.

  “So.” Mark pulled out Jillian’s chair. She looked at me helplessly as she tried to sit on the barstool without ripping that dress in two, along with her SPANX. I quickly texted her a fire engine emoji, and when I checked my phone again, had a middle finger back.

  I snorted out a laugh.

  “Something funny?” Brooke asked with laser-like intensity focused on my crotch.

  “Nope.” I slid my phone away and ordered a vodka martini. “So, tell me about yourself, Brooke, why did you decide to test the app?”

  “Okay, honest moment.” Brooke waited for all of us to go silent, Mark included. “I just want to find a guy that likes me for more than my body.” She flipped her hair and then added, “And of course, my mind.”

  “Of course.” Jillian nodded solemnly. “It must be so difficult finding someone on an even playing field.”

  “YES!” Brooke reached for Jillian’s hands and held them. “Girl, you get me, you get the struggle. I mean, not the body thing but the mind. Guys just want us for our cells!”

  Holy. Was she drunk already?

  I shared a curious look with Mark, who started sipping his drink like water.

  Good call bro, good call, maybe he wasn’t a total dick.

  “Y-yes.” Jillian agreed. “Our brain cells are very… important.”

  “Oh, I meant our other cells too, you know, the cells that make up our bodies, they want all of it, greedy pricks.” She snapped her fingers at the bartender and ordered another round, then honest to God finished the martini in her right hand while grabbing the new one with her left.

  Jillian sipped hers, made a face, and put it down.

  I grinned over at her then told the bartender to send something fruity.

  She shot me a thankful look, and I realized I wasn’t supposed to be taking care of her, but my date.

  My soon to be drunk off her ass date.

  “What about you, Mark?” Jillian asked. “What do you like about the app?”

  Mark grinned wide, his dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and though he was on the shorter side, he at least didn’t look like a tool, just a people pleaser.

  “Well…” He held his craft beer in one hand and stared hard at Jillian, perhaps too hard. “I work really hard and really strange hours, so I find it difficult to connect with someone on a spiritual level—”

  “Preach!” Brooke interrupted with a wave of her hand in his direction.

  “—so the app provides a way to build my perfect woman, sort of like a sex robot, you know? But not.”

  “Sex robots are so hot right now,” Brooke again.

  Jillian gaped. “Um, but the purpose of the app isn’t for just sex.”

  “Oh.” Mark looked crestfallen. “I mean, it could lead to sex, and why wouldn’t you want to create your perfect sexual partner and then meet them?”

  “Why indeed.” This from me as I crossed Mark off the list.

  “You’re so deep, Mark.” Brooke looked ready to cry. “I mean, do you think you would ever be interested in a girl like this?” She shimmied in her seat.

  “I would never use you for your cells.” Mark straight up stood and announced this to the entire bar while Jillian’s eyes widened.

  “You’re such a good person.” Brooke reached for him. “And I don’t say that to guys who like craft beer!”

  “I feel a big connection right now,” Mark walked toward her, and astronauts in space could see the size of his boner.

  Brooke shivered. “Our auras are aligning perfectly.”

  “God save us all if they procreate,” Jillian said under her breath, earning a bark of laughter from me.

  “Bite, bite, bite, bite,” Jillian said in a panicked voice.

  “Bite!” Brooke agreed. “Yes, Jillian, thank you so much for your permission to steal your date. You’re right, a bite is just like a kiss, a bite tells so much more, it’s hungry, it’s invasive, it’s hot…” She wrapped her arms around Mark and then leaned in and bit his neck.

  Wow.

  Mark let out a moan that made me want to cover Jillian’s ears even though she was an adult, and then they were gone.

  Leaving us with the tab.

  And the answer to an age-old question—that there really was someone for everyone.

  “Cheers,” Jillian held up her glass and then burst out laughing. “I can’t believe that just happened. Should we start filming a reality show?”

  “She’s probably going to beg him to grow a beard, which he will by the way, and then he’s going to show her off to all his friends at the poetry slam—which she’ll love by the way—and then they’ll decide not to have kids. No… kids are too last year, they’re going to adopt an Emu, and n
ame it Ted, because you know, Ted talks are gospel.” I held up my martini. “Anything to add?”

  “I think maybe an Emu farm because you know…” I nodded. “Save the Emus.”

  “Should we make shirts?” I wondered out loud.

  “I would wear the crap out of that Emu shirt, probably sleep in it, spray it with your cologne when you aren’t looking, then dance around it while chanting incantations.” She winced. “Too far?”

  “Maybe, next time, stop when you get to the chanting part.”

  “Noted.” She downed the rest of her drink. “Well, at least this dress wasn’t a waste.”

  “Definitely not.” I eyed her up and down again, and because I was feeling a bit tipsy, I leaned in and pressed my hand to her hips and whispered. “By the way, your ass is perfect.”

  Her gaze locked on mine.

  I licked my lips.

  Co-workers.

  Rules.

  “GUYS!” Someone yelled. We jerked away from one another just in time to see Slater, Knox, and Leo come ambling toward us with their significant others in tow.

  “How’d it go?” My sister was clinging to Slater like a second skin. I mentally choked him out and then glanced at Jillian, she looked nervous, maybe even shy, so I scooted my barstool closer to her.

  “Well,” I said, locking eyes with Jillian. “Let’s just say we’re really good at matchmaking, our dates felt a connection and took off without us.”

  Leo burst out laughing. “Cool story, bro, tell us more.”

  “Not much more to tell,” Jillian interjected. “Though I did use our safe word bite, and his date, the airhead, thought it meant I was encouraging her to bite my date’s neck.”

  “They did it in front of us,” I whispered in horror.

  “It’s gonna be okay.” Jillian patted me on the arm. “I mean, after years of therapy, you may not even remember what that looked like. Her teeth, his erection—”

  “Whoa!” Knox held up his hands. “He was sporting an erection?”

  “Either that or he was hiding a miniature baseball bat in his pants.” Jillian lifted her empty glass. “Cheers?”

  The guys all sat down, and I started introducing Jillian to the girls one by one. They stayed for two hours, and stupidly all I kept thinking of that entire two hours was how natural it was to have my not-date by my side.