Fake It List

Ten

The app his oldest brother, Wesley, created was awesome. Chris looked through the data Wes had compiled. Just like other apps, the user swiped through the candidates, but these guys were all ones who'd applied for the chance to date Reysha. When their image was pressed, a small bio came up, and there was even a link to a video recording. It wasn't a requirement, but several of the applicants had done a quick intro clip. Chris had been up late most nights compiling information, sorting through candidates, and triple-checking background reports, criminal record checks, work histories, and anything else he could find out about these guys. The nice part about Wes's app was it did a background screen before uploading the candidate list. Sort of like a final red flag checker.

In moments like these, it helped that he had connections and could call in favours. It also didn't hurt that he had his own money to hire an investigator. The station could have covered it, but without his push and personal weight, the process would have taken longer, and he didn't have the time to waste. Reysha would be safe, and his father wouldn't have time to question any of the process. Tonight, they'd choose the first two.

Putting aside the fact that the whole idea of Reysha going out with anyone made him slightly ill, everything was progressing perfectly. His phone rang, interrupting his perusal of bachelor number four. His dad's name popped onto the screen.

Chris bit back his sigh as he swiped. "Dad."

"Are you serious about this? I thought you were trying to one-up your sister, but you're actually going through with it?"

I'm fine. How are you? "People are already invested. We're selling promo spots quicker than ever. We've had 450 entries for possible dates in the last two days."

There was a slight pause. "Excellent. You took a risk, and you're lucky—so far—that it's working. I want you to keep me in the loop, and I mean it this time. Don't fill me in after the fact. You get those numbers up, and we'll be able to up my asking price."

Chris's breath caught. "What?" The station—the staff—didn't need to go through another turnover.

"We'll see. Hard to turn down profit, son. What's the point if we do?"

Granddad would have a far more concise and impactful answer than Chris could muster at the moment. His father didn't truly listen to any of them. But you have to try.

Chris stood up, paced back and forth in front of the windows. "Why turn it over if it's making a profit? It doesn't hurt to have these holdings." Any more than it would have hurt to keep the warehouses Noah was attached to. Why do you care? You won't be here. It didn't sit right, though. In fact, it made his stomach clench.

Sometimes his father reminded him of a child who couldn't choose a favourite toy, so he grabbed them all before anyone else could, then decided he didn't want any of them.

"I'll think about it. Not really your concern. This goes the way you want it to; you'll be home in no time doing exactly what you've wanted. Now, I want you to take a closer look at the subsidiary companies. I think we should off-load them sooner rather than later."

Frustration rolled through his body. "You have enough going on that you don't need to micromanage any of us. I've been here for almost twelve months. I'm doing what you asked, including looking into our sister companies. Can you just let me do my job, Dad?"

"Be happy to," his dad said, laughter in his booming voice. "As long as you don't mess it up."

The buzzer signalling a visitor sounded. "I have to go."

His father's low rumble sounded in his ear. "Updates. Don't forget."

Check the damn website if you want to know what's going on. "Of course. Good night."