The meeting

Steve cheerfully started explaining. "Calm

down, your face dropped a hundred

storeys. It's not going to be real. Just real

to the rest of the world. We'll hire a girl

to become your fiancée -"

"Jessica Alba!" I immediately exclaimed.

Yes, she was every man's dream. She

was tantalizingly exotic and had always

been on my top list of hottest women,

no matter how old she was.

"She's taken you idiot! And she has a

kid! Anyway, not someone famous.

Someone who is not like Lindsey Lohan,

someone sweet, who the press will like."

"That sounds incredibly boring," I

remarked with a frown. Sweet? Why

would you want sweet when you could

have sexy? "Why that type of girl?!"

Steve looked at me like I was an idiot. In

his mind, I probably was. "Well, everyone

will think you're serious about

relationships since you've finally settled

down and not with someone who's just

rich and hot."

"Everyone will think otherwise when it

ends," I pointed out. He obviously hadn't

thought of everything, so I felt quite

proud of myself for pointing out that

little flaw in his grand plan. If this was to

be a fake engagement, it would have to

end sometime right? And the press

would think I was a player for leaving

the girl again.

Steve shook his head. Ok … so maybe he

had thought of everything. "The break

up will be seen like this: your fiancée

realises she can't marry you after all

because dating someone famous won't

allow her to lead a normal life and have

her dream job, which would be

something smart, such as a doctor. It

will make you look like a good guy,

because you did nothing wrong … and

oh! I have just the right person!"

My frown deepened. I didn't think

Steve's perspective of the 'right person'

was the same as mine, which s----d.

This was going to be bad.

"But we haven't even interviewed

anyone."

"We don't need to interview anyone! My

niece is perfect! I don't know if she'll

agree but I think she would, if I offer to

cover her college fees. I know it's her

biggest wish to go to Harvard. She'll get

in too; she's so smart."

I was about to scoff, "She can't even

afford college?!" but Steve had

disappeared – probably to ring up his

poor niece.

* * *

Cadillac, Michigan.

Dusk soon settled over my bedroom,

making me sigh with relief. Now I

wouldn't have to stay up to finish my

college applications. Smiling proudly at

the small stack finished applications on

my study desk, I decided to head

downstairs to grab myself some orange

juice to celebrate. As I passed the lounge

room, my eyes strayed to the two people

on the sofa: my mother and one of her

gorgeous dates. God, how public could

she get? I cleared my throat loudly as I

walked past them. As I poured juice for

myself in the kitchen, I heard a deep

voice.

"I'll see you tonight, Hazel?"

I heard my mother giggle girlishly. I

could even imagine her twirling a lock of

her blonde curls. "Oh yes!"

I rolled my eyes. My mother is, as one

would say … promiscuous. I hated

acknowledging that, but it was the truth.

I felt like strangling her most of the time

because she was like that. Usually

mothers were kind and protective and

baked cookies for you when you came

back from school. Not my mother. I was

basically stuck with a teenage girl.

"Lainie, make dinner will you? I'm

starving."

"Yeah," I muttered.

See what I meant? It felt like I was the

mother sometimes. I took out the

leftover lasagne and watched as my

mother laid on the couch and put a

dainty hand to her forehead. Her dirty

blonde curls fell around her slim

shoulders as she closed her eyes. She

was undeniably beautiful, but it didn't

negate the fact that she was

selfish. Meanwhile, I was her total

opposite: a brunette with brown eyes

and olive skin.

In comparison, my father had been a

generous and loving doctor. There was

one time when my parents had been in

love, but not now. Not ever since he

died.

The ring of the phone interrupted my

train of thought and I picked it up.

"Hello?" I said breezily.

"Lainie! Is that you? Wow, you sound

old!"

I laughed happily as I recognised the

familiar voice. My uncle, Steve, who I

haven't seen for years was calling me

while I waited for the lasagne to cook!

Living the high-life as a publicist and

manager to various celebrities in Los

Angeles meant that he couldn't afford to

visit us all the time, so whenever the

chance to see him popped up, I took it –

anything to get away from my mother.

"Hi Steve! Yes, it is me and I'm pretty

sure I still sound the same."

He chuckled. "How's my older sister, hey?

Is she behaving?"

"You know mom never behaves," I

murmured with a frown. I wish she did

though, because life would be so much

better that way. I could invite friends

over to our house without being

embarrassed, I wouldn't have to work

so much in order to support the both of

us …

"Touché," Steve replied in a crisp tone.

"Well anyway, the reason I've called is

because I have a proposition for you."

I tensed automatically. Well, that didn't

sound good. Since when did uncles

make propositions for you?

"Proposition?" I