The Pretend Girlfriend

Chapter Seven~ Let's do This

Gwen paid the cabbie, passing a $ 20 through the divider. The man shot her a hard look beneath his bushy eyebrows when she pocketed all her change. All she could do was offer him an apologetic smile as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She couldn't afford to tip him. Especially if this didn't plan out. And if it didn't plan out, Gwen knew she'd be kicking herself for spending money on two pointless cab rides.

But unfortunately, the subway didn't run out this way. It was a cooler day. The grey clouds obscured the sky in their haze, and a chilly breeze wended its way down the street. Gwen stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and hunched her shoulders. Yes, it was unseasonably cold.

She tried not to take it as a bad sign as she started down the street, reading the addresses on the low buildings crowding the sidewalk. That same breeze tugged at her hair, which she let loose against her shoulders. Her mouth kept going dry, and anxiety panged in her stomach.

She'd barely been able to force a slice of toast down at breakfast; her nerves bothered her so much. But this was it. Her last chance to solve this problem in a way that would let her stay in the city. She walked another block before she found the right place.

It was an old community center. Graffiti plastered its faded walls. Someone had tried halfheartedly to scrub the tags off, leaving them all smudged. A banner flapped in the wind over the main entrance, announcing the building as the home of the For the Children charity. Its logo was a stick man with his hands resting on the shoulders of two stick children, one slightly taller than the other.

According to her Google search, Aiden had ties with this charity, as well as two others in other districts in the metropolitan area. One really was close to her apartment, but she'd already checked there earlier that afternoon and hadn't found him. This one she'd called ahead to. The nice woman on the other end of the line told her that Aiden was due for a visit, but didn't have an exact time. Gwen took the concrete stairs up to the door two at a time. She didn't want to miss him again, and once more wished that he'd given her his phone number before that whole thing at Starbucks. Though, she suspected she would have deleted it in a fit of anger anyway.

"Yes, hi, is Aiden Manning in?" Gwen said, walking up to the front desk. It was flanked by a set of doors on either side. A women in her mid-fifties, her ponytail shot with grey, manned the desk.

She peered over the rims of her glasses at an old computer monitor, her fingers picking at the keyboard methodically. "Mr. Manning? I believe he was supposed to be here about an hour ago." The secretary pushed her glasses back up her nose and regarded Gwen.

"So he's not here?" Gwen said, leaning against the desk. A filing system of old milk crates and cardboard boxes took up much of the floor space.

"I'm afraid not. Is there something I can help you with?" the secretary asked, pausing in her typing.

"I don't suppose you could give me Mr. Manning's number? I need to get in touch with him," Gwen said, feeling like she already knew the answer. She could feel her resolve wavering.

"I can't give out private information like that, I'm sorry." Gwen nodded. Maybe this was a sign. A sign that she shouldn't be trying to go through with this. That it was wrong , and the universe was trying to steer her back on the straight and narrow path (which led, of course, to a spare bedroom belonging to either her mother or father).

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for your time," Gwen said.

"Have a nice day," the secretary replied.

That's that, then, I guess, Gwen thought as she turned around. She searched for her cab fare in her pocket. It's probably for the best, anyway, she continued. Some of the anxiety in her stomach bled away, and she actually started feeling a bit hungry.