Rent a Boyfriend Page 9

 

  They can be anything!

  Pj’s with little mooncakes on them…

  One that turns the sheep into a giant mooncake…

  One with a fake sheepdog attached to its butt trying to nudge it inside a fence…

  A sheep with antigravity boots…

  The sky’s the limit! Because we don’t want the poor antigravity sheep to float past the atmosphere. That’s dangerous!

  Chang’e would have to catch him and send him back down

  Omg

  You might have missed your calling as a sheep pajama designer

  Or a children’s book writer

  I’ve still got time

  You just need to find an illustrator

  I have someone in mind for that and the actual pajama making

  Though I need an engineer for the antigravity stuff

  I’ll try to find an aerospace class

  Maybe online since UChicago doesn’t offer it

  Good night

  Sleep loose

  You too

  December 16, 12:47 a.m. CST

 

  The best I came up with was a sheep in a tuxedo

  But that’s just a different piece of clothing

 

  It’s creative though

  I’ll leave the designing to you

  So am I your non-booty booty call?

  Erm text

  Sorry I couldn’t sleep again

  Are we breaking like a million company rules right now?

  We weren’t even supposed to talk before the assignment

  Ehh what do they know?

  They just have a dedicated analytics team to scrutinize every piece of data we get

  Maybe we’re actually helping by getting to know each other even better

  We’re talking about sheep pajamas

  Well if your parents ask me what your favorite sheep pajama is, I’ll now know to answer tuxedo

  That’s not my favorite

  It’s just the one I came up with

  My fave is your mooncake one tied with the antigravity boots

  Well good thing we straightened that out by texting, right?

  Haha right

  Sleep loose

  You too

  December 17, 12:23 a.m. CST

 

  I’m sorry about your parents

  I should’ve said that a few days ago when you told me about them

 

  Rereading our texts? Has that replaced thinking about embarrassing things?

  And don’t worry I haven’t been rereading our texts either

  No I haven’t been doing that

  Oh

  Me neither

  that previous text had no subtext between the lines

  My apology is part of the spiral

  I replay all my previous interactions at night searching for where I went wrong

  But with you (unlike with Jerry), I can correct it

  I didn’t say anything that night because I was so worried about crossing a line since you don’t like to talk about stuff, but I should have at least said sorry

  I didn’t mean for it to come across like I didn’t care when really, I was just making sure to respect your rule to keep the role and real you separate

  Though I did want to know more

  I mean, only if you want to tell me

  Which you don’t

  So you shouldn’t

  Maybe I should stop texting you in the middle of the night when my filter’s asleep before me

  Sleepiness, alcohol’s sneakier sibling

  Are you old enough to drink?

  I’m 21

  So you *are* older than me by 2 years!

  That wasn’t a lie to my mom

  Why is that so hilarious?

  Because it’s after midnight (for you)

  Alcohol’s sneakier sibling strikes again

  Thanks for the kind words about my family

  I haven’t talked about them to anyone in a long time

  I get that

  It’s too hard, especially when other people don’t understand

  Yep

  I hear “good riddance” a lot but it’s not like I chose this

  Is it hard for you to spend holidays on the job, away from family?

  One could argue that’s why this job is perfect for me

  It gives me somewhere to go

  Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you during the upcoming job? Like any traditions you want to do?

  Wait didn’t you say your family eats Sichuan food around the holidays? Well if that was a true story

  It’s true

  But um…

  What?

  Sorry, as lovely as that sounds and as kind as it is that you remembered, it goes against one of my rules

  ?

  Pause.

  You have to tell me!

  I try to stay away from intestinally unfriendly foods while on the job, just in case

  No shit

  Correction: No gas

  Shit’s ok though

  Okay

  No Sichuan food

  Or escolar or beans or ghost peppers

  Much appreciated

  Chloe CHAPTER 22

  BA-BOOP-BOOP

  December 17

  My password-protected Rent for Your ’Rents app—which showed up on my phone screen as HOMEWORK PLANNER, one of five stealth shields offered—went ba-boop-boop, reminding me that the payment (minus the already-paid booking fee) for Andrew’s upcoming rental was due in four days.

  I had to get my shit together. Finals had ended and though I was three days into the paid research-assistant gig I had recently nabbed with my favorite professor, the paperwork and thus payment hadn’t gone through yet. And, more importantly, with the help of that trusty ba-boop-boop, I had been reminded of how complicated my texting with Andrew was. Mostly because my feelings had gotten more involved than I would’ve preferred, and now was the time to untangle that mess so it didn’t affect the very important, life-altering mission ahead of us.

  No more texts, not with the boy beneath the role.

  Drew

  Her loving my sheep pajamas (and even trying to come up with some of her own), telling me about Jerry’s tight ass… it made me forget my rules for the first time.

  But then she didn’t text for the next four days.

  December 21, 1:45 p.m. CST

 

  Payment should have just gone through

 

  I know, my app just pinged

  Actually it went ba-boop-boop

  Annnd confirmed on my end

  I’m looking forward to seeing you

  Good

  You’re already in character

  Drew CHAPTER 23

  ELIZA SCHUYLER

  December 21

  “Why do you seem so nervous?” Jason asked me.

  I was ironing clothes for a date tonight (as in a date date, not a job) and for my upcoming week with the Wangs, which would start in two days.

  “I’m not nervous,” I said calmly, using my training to sell it (I looked him in the eye, breathed not too fast or slow or loud, and continued spraying water and ironing as if I weren’t fazed). Really, though, my stomach was knotted tighter than one of my grandfather’s red Zhōngguó jié wall hangings. Because I was losing it.

  On December 15, after our second night of texts, I’d painted something for Jing-Jing. A sheep dressed as a mooncake with antigravity boots, floating past a moon. I’d hidden it under my bed.

  Then yesterday, after rereading her application, I’d ordered jasmine oolong tea, her favorite, because I wanted to know what it tasted like. And I ordered it from her favorite tea store. (Insert monkey-covering-eyes emoji here.)

  Jason examined me head to toe again. “I’ve never seen you so worked up over a date before.”

  I said nothing, scared to give him any clues as to what was really going on.<
br />
  But it didn’t matter, because the five-star operative figured it out.

  “Oh, it’s the upcoming job, not the date.” Pause. “This is the same client as Thanksgiving, right? You were weird then, too. Was she an Inspector Gadget?” (That was our nickname for clients who think they’re helping but actually make the operative’s job harder, either by mixing up facts or by bringing up details that haven’t been agreed upon.)

  I shook my head.

  “Was she a Katherine Heigl?” (Bad actress. My last client before Jing-Jing, Kristen, had been one of these. She had actually tried to rebook me this Christmas, but I’d given Jing-Jing priority—because of the Katherine Heigl bit, nothing else, I swear. And I did feel horrible for not being able to help Kristen out, though I offered to try for another time in January.)

  I shook my head again.

  “Were the parents Sherlocks?” Another head shake.

  I looked up to find Jason staring at me, eyes wide and boring into mine, while one hand covered his mouth in shock.

  “What?” I retorted, mustering all my acting skills to play innocent. But he’d received the same training as me.

  “You didn’t!” he gasped.

  I wondered how his boyfriend, Marshall, could stand him always figuring stuff out. (Though, since I liked when Jing-Jing did it, I already knew the answer.)

  “What about—” Jason started, but I couldn’t hear prerogative, Operative one more time; it had been continually running through my head the past month. (Did it bother anyone else that the two words only sort of rhymed?)

  “You got it all wrong,” I lied. “She’s a category all unto herself. A…” My brain flashed through possible traits to latch on to. (I could’ve made something up out of the blue, but it was quicker and safer to base it in truth.) “She’s an Eliza Schuyler—too selfless.” And yet so very strong. “Made it harder, you know?”

  Jason raised one eyebrow at me. “Mm-hmm. We all know you have a crush on Eliza Schuyler.”

  A garbled scoff made its way out my nose. “She was alive hundreds of years ago; that’s not a thing.”

  “Fine, you have a crush on the version Lin-Manuel brought to life.” He started shaking his head. “Oh man, please stop this before it’s too late. Wait, what about your date tonight?”

  I said nothing, hoping he wouldn’t figure out that I’d been texting with my client, and that Jing-Jing’s last text had jarred me into making the date. You’re already in character, she’d said, when I wasn’t, not at all. I’d completely lost the line between job and reality, so in desperation I’d opened up the first dating app I spotted on my phone and swiped right until I made a match.

  “Don’t shit where you eat,” Jason warned.

  “I would never.” I turned off the iron to let it cool on the kitchen counter (a.k.a. our ironing board) and retreated to my room to finish getting ready. And I definitely did not tell him that it already tasted kind of poopy in my mouth.

  Voicemails from Chloe’s mother

  December 19

  Wéi? Jing-Jing? Wéi, is anyone there? Oh. It’s voicemail. Jing-Jing? It’s your mǎmá. Look, I’ve been thinking, and I just can’t live with myself taking Andrew away from his family another holiday. Maybe he shouldn’t come here, so he can be a good son, of course, no other reason. What do you think? Tell him not to come. Okay, Jing-Jing? For everyone’s sake.

  [silence]

  Eh? How do you turn this thing

  December 20

  Ah, there’s the beep. Jing-Jing? It’s Mǎmá again. Why haven’t you text message me or called me back? I know you’re upset about some of the things I said, but I taught you better than to ignore your poor mǎmá who is just looking out for you. And Andrew. I’m looking out for him and his poor mǎmá who will surely want to see him over the holiday. Win-win, right? I mean, not a win for us. Lose for us, of course. But we will make the sacrifice for him and his family’s sake.

  Okay? Please. If you don’t call me back, I’ll assume you just did what I asked!

  December 21

  Oh, clever. You call me when you know I’m working. Well, fine.

  I am thinking about Andrew and his parents. Maybe I’m also thinking about us and Hongbo, but above everything, I’m thinking about you, Jing-Jing! It’s always you!

  But fine, yes, I don’t want Andrew to come because I want you to focus on Hongbo. He likes you so much, Jing-Jing, and so do his parents. You don’t know what it’s been like for me this month! Not just the gifts, but they’ve been having us over for dinner constantly. And I’ve seen your future, Jing-Jing, and it’s so bright! They’re talking about everything they’ll give you and Hongbo as their only heirs. Describing all the future vacations we’ll take together—all of us! To Taipei, to Kaohsiung—don’t you want to see where I grew up?—to Europe, Australia, Beijing. Remember when you were little—oh, so little—and we used to watch those videos about the Forbidden City and Great Wall, and you’d beg me to take you there? What happened to that girl, so eager to see where she came from? Well, now you can! You can get back the curiosity for your culture that you used to have!

  The Kuos are so excited to have you as their daughter-in-law, and to have Bǎbá and me as family by extension. You know how rare it is for them to be so forward, and rare for you, Jing-Jing, to have this kind of attention. And from the Kuos—the Kuos! I didn’t even dream of this for you because it was so unlikely! Andrew is a nice boy, but don’t miss out on this golden duck of an opportunity. We’ve known Hongbo his whole life, and Andrew just a short time. It’s nothing about Andrew personally. You understand.

  Think about it. Please. I’m your mǎmá, Jing-Jing. I know you. Just trust me.

  Chloe CHAPTER 24

  ARMOR

  December 22

  Packing for a visit home was more complicated than texting fake boyfriends late at night. Most of my go-to clothes were too loungewear for applying-makeup-is-the-same-as-being-polite Mǎmá Wang, and I had so outgrown the clothes that remained that they now pointed giant neon arrows at my not-completely-flat stomach. Might as well just draw a bull’s-eye there for my mother to throw mean jabs at. There was no winning here, so I packed the loosest of my mother-approved wear and called it a day.

  I already had a feeling I would need armor for this visit. Thanksgiving had been a joke compared to what was likely coming, with the impending deadline and my mother’s change in attitude, which was apparently still developing given the voicemails she was leaving me. She’d switched over from text about three days ago, probably because I had been sending her one-word replies.

  I zipped up my suitcase and, with a sigh, resisted the urge to reread certain non-Mǎmá texts—which I had been doing despite my lie to Andrew. I reminded myself of the main objective this Christmas break: Get. Rid. Of. Hongbo. That was it. Anything else only got in the way.

  Voicemail from Chloe’s mother

  December 22

  Eh, Jing-Jing. Wéi? [long sigh] Why didn’t you call me back before you got on the plane? You haven’t boarded yet. Why aren’t you picking up now?

  I guess I can understand why you couldn’t uninvite Andrew. But… don’t put all your duck eggs in one place, okay? At least see Hongbo this break. Keep thinking about the proposal. Who wouldn’t want to wear that huge ring? Did you know it’s twenty-four-karat gold? The Kuos know what’s best! Andrew hasn’t even proposed yet. Don’t lose a sure thing for a maybe.

  Think about it, okay? For me, your poor mǎmá who is constantly worrying about you so much her blood pressure is high. Don’t send me to the grave early!

  CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR

  Drew CHAPTER 25

  CHRISTMAS COOKIES

  December 23

  I was outside, sort of behind a tree, waiting for the Uber with Jing-Jing in it to pick me up. It was routine, but my hands were clammy.

  I fidgeted with my UChicago scarf (the only emblem I was sporting today) and cringed, remembering that this was the very dagger that had killed m
y dinner date two nights ago. Okay, that was dramatic, and obviously my actual date the human didn’t die, but the abstract idea of that date had met a fiery end.

  After a dinner of pad see ew, yellow curry, and crab Rangoon, she had asked to come over so I could draw a caricature of her (twenty-five miles away, my mother was having herself a good laugh). Caricatures I had no problem showing others, so I said fine (meanwhile thinking, As long as she doesn’t ask to see any of my real work, which was hidden away in boxes). But I didn’t have to worry about any of that because, not one minute after she entered my room, she noticed my UChicago scarf on the floor, then the Harvard sweatshirt peeking out of my closet, and she’d marched right up to the closet door and flung it open to see STANFORD, MIT, BERKELEY, UCLA on the sleeves of hung-up shirts.

  “What the fuck?” she had asked, but I’d said nothing. Just stood back and watched as she pawed through, pausing on each one just long enough to verify that it was, indeed, yep, another school.

  I’d tried to lie about having family ties to all those colleges, but given that those clothes made up the majority of my closet (the company paid for them, okay?), she fled. I yelled sorry after her, then felt weird about the rush of relief that came over me.

  Honestly, we’d said about ten words to each other at dinner (three of which had been “I like art”), and she’d been on her phone a lot. I was pretty sure I even saw her swiping right and left with a suspicious rhythm, which, fine, yes, we weren’t hitting it off, but she couldn’t wait until I wasn’t in front of her face?

  The date had not only been a Mentos-in-Coke explosion, but it had also massively backfired, making me think about Jing-Jing and our easy conversation more.

  I took the scarf off and angrily stuffed it in my bag.

  When the little car on the Uber app approached my spot, I picked up the poinsettia at my feet and emerged onto the street.

  “Hey,” Jing-Jing said with a small, nervous smile when I opened the door.