A Beginner's Guide to Gold Digging: Chapter 3

A Beginner’s Guide to Weathering Storms

Lily

I stared at Crispin blankly as he finished providing context for the utterly insane thing he’d said upon walking into my office. This absurd, well-intentioned, shockingly honorable man with his striking green eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses had used me, of all people, as a means to get his father off his back. The only question was-

“Sorry, but why me, exactly?” I asked. “Like, of all the girls you could’ve said-”

“You were just the first person I thought of,” he clarified. “I was high and in the middle of something and I was still kind of… Upset about what happened earlier today and… Yeah. I’m sorry about jumping in like that earlier-”

“You mean when you white-knighted for me?” I said, cocking an eyebrow… Raising an eyebrow. Raising. The hell- why did I think that? Whatever. 

“Yes,” he said, cringing. 

“Okay, uh… So, just gonna point this out-”

“I’m aware that you’re gay, Lily,” Crispin said. 

I flinched. Wasn’t sure why- I mean, I WAS gay, I’d described myself that way a million times, and it was usually no problem at all for me. But something about him saying that about me made me feel like I’d bitten into a sheet of aluminum foil. “Yes,” I said evenly. “But I was going to say that you could surely ask any other woman to pretend to be engaged to you?”

“That’s, uh… Not really an option.”

“Why?”

Thunder clapped outside as rain began to fall to the Earth in a rhythmic assault. “Who would I ask? One of my sisters?”

“No, obviously not; don’t you have any female friends?”

“I have Rose, and that’s it,” he said flatly. “And she would not agree. And even if she did agree, her giant fiance would throw me through a wall.”

“He is exceedingly buff, yes,” I nodded, crinkling my brow as a bizarre mental painting formed inside my head of Kyle and Crispin in wrestling speedos, oiled up and duking it out in the ring and ending when Kyle gave Crispin a package pile-driver before Rose steel-chaired Crispin in the face. And for some reason I was the ring-girl in this image, a mini-dress made of red sequins adorning me while my face was painted immaculately… yeah, right, like I could ever pull off an outfit like that. Whatever. “What about like, one of the thirty million girls you’ve boned?”

“They, uh, don’t really give me their phone numbers or contact information.”

“They don’t?”

“No. Why would they? They know it’s just going to be a one-night-stand. Why complicate it with personal information?”

“Fair enough. Uh… Seriously, though, there’s no other girls-”

“They’re all either married or engaged or related to me,” he said. “Plus… Okay, look, this is gonna sound shitty-”

“Oh, it’s just now gonna start sounding shitty?”

“Point,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He looked out the window at the rainfall outside for a few moments before turning back to me. “Look, the actual plan here is pretty simple: if I can sell my dad on the idea that I’m serious about this girl but it’s one he still doesn’t approve of, he’ll tell me to drop you and then get off my back for at least a few more years. Then, we can pretend like this never happened and I can get back to-”

“Whoring around?” I cocked- RAISED (what the hell) my eyebrow yet again. 

“Yes, precisely. And you can get back to looking for Mrs. Right.”

“Pffttt, like that’s gonna be a fruitful endeavor.”

He squinted. “Well, yeah, obviously it will.”

“That was… That was sarcasm, Cris.”

“Why? You’re you.”

“That’s why.”

“But you’re great. You’re buff and snarky and fierce and you dress like a lumberjack. Lesbians eat that up like it’s a dripping pussy.”

Images! So many images! Dear God! My cheeks warmed again, and it was my turn to stare intently out the window. 

“That was too much,” Crispin said, “And I’m sorry I said it.”

“Thank you,” I gritted my teeth. “Uh… Dare I ask why you think your father automatically wouldn’t approve-”

He pointed at the trans pride flag behind me. 

“Oh,” I said. Then I blinked. “Wait, how disapproving are we talking about? Because if you’re dragging me to your house to meet your transphobic family-”

“He won’t do anything to hurt you,” Cris said. “The worst he’ll actually do is have security escort you off the premises. And our security guy is a friend of mine, so he’ll probably lead you to the edge of the driveway and then smoke you out on the hood of his car.”

“That… That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“So you’ll do it?” Cris said, leaning forward in his chair and smiling. His sunglasses fell off and landed in his lap, and it was almost shocking to see that delighted twinkle in his brilliantly green eyes. He averted his gaze as soon as it happened. 

“Oh for- you can look at me,” I sighed. 

“Really?” he said, still looking like an overjoyed kid on Christmas morning. Stop being endearing, you douche!

“Yes,” I said. And as he met my eyes, I flinched again. A strange stirring went through me, one I couldn’t describe and one I couldn’t help but be uncomfortable with. I breathed in deep through my nose, out through my mouth, and said, “And… Maybe. If it’s really as simple as you say, then maybe. But I want something in return.”

“Anything!”

“I’m supposed to fly to Thailand in early September for my vaginoplasty,” I said. “But we’re having some money problems, and I can’t cover the ticket. That’s where you come in.”

“Done,” he said. 

“Just… Just like that? No haggling?”

“No haggling,” Crispin said. “My entire way of life is on the line here. Getting you to and from Thailand is nothing compared to that.”

“Then… Then I also want you to pay for the whole hospital stay!” I said.

“Done,” he said. “Anything else?”

A bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, and not three seconds passed before a second thunder-clap exploded. Not another three seconds died before the power went out.

I sighed. “Let’s take this inside the house, shall we?”

“Certainly!” he said. God, he would not drop that goofy smile. His teeth were so perfect and his dimples were so well-placed they looked like a sculptor had added them. 

We stumbled through the dark and out into the rain before running into my house. 

“Rob? You in here?” I called out into the darkened expanse of our two-story home. We’d grown up here. I’d never known another home. And much like the family business, it was all we had left of our parents. Well, more so our dad, but he and Rob had always insisted that Mom loved the company just as much. 

“I’m down here!” my big brother’s voice called out from the basement. 

We’d come in the back entrance that led to the kitchen, a simple room with linoleum floors and gas appliances and a square dinner table squished into a corner below our family photos. The basement door was at the end of the room, next to the entrance to the main hallway. Cris and I walked over to the open door, and to my cold, intense dread, I heard water coming from downstairs.

“Is this the part in the horror movie where a pretty girl walks into the basement alone during a storm?” Cris said. “Because if it is, I’m going with you.”

“You… You think I’m pretty?” The shit- I wasn’t pretty. I was a frumpy weirdo who dressed like a teenage boy because why bother putting in any effort when you know you’ll look like shit no matter what you do. 

“I got eyes,” he shrugged. What the hell did that mean? And why was he looking away from me when he said that? 

Why did I ask that in the first place? God, he was the worst- constantly confusing me. This whole situation was confusing me. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it wasn’t worth it. Maybe I should find some other way to raise the money.

We descended the creaky stairs to the basement, where we found my brother standing in knee-high water while fending off a hissing mink with a kayak paddle. 

“Careful!” Rob called. “They’re everywhere! Murder-noodles everywhere!”

“Then get out of there, you idiot!” I shouted. 

“I’m trying! But these beasts-”

That was when a long, soggy thread of fur and claws jumped out of the water at me, only for Cris to catch it in his hands right before it reached my face. He chucked it back into the water, grabbed me by the elbow with one hand and Rob by the back of the shirt with another and dragged us both back up the stairs. 

We ran the rest of the way up and slammed the basement door shut behind us. 

Rob, between heaving breaths, “Thanks. I, uh, I managed to plug the leak and stop the flooding, but by that point a bunch of those things had already made it in and… Yeah. Wait, Crispin? What are you doing here?”

“Just… getting a bill of goods itemized,” he said, the smile returning. Nice save- I didn’t have the capacity to explain any of this to Rob right now.

“Oh,” Rob said. “That’s cool.”

“So,” Cris said, “is there anything else?”

That was when a brutal crashing sound exploded through the vicinity. We all ran over to the nearest window, and saw a tree branch had been shaken loose by the storm and obliterated the roof of the garage. 

The one we’d just been in. 

The one I’d still be in if he hadn’t shown up. Shit, now I owed him my life.

“I guess I owe you my life now,” Crispin said. 

“Huh?” I said. 

“You suggested we go inside-”

“We can call it even on that one,” I said. “Though, if you wouldn’t mind covering the-”

“Yeah, I got it,” Crispin nodded. “Anything else?”

I thought long and hard. Part of me felt this was already going too far: in theory, this would only be an hour of my life, and I was potentially looking at Crispin paying me thousands for it in goods and services. 

Unfortunately, there was something I was going to need for those few hours, something that I didn’t own and was necessary in selling the illusion that I was actually attracted to this absurd hunk. Something I was dreading and looking forward to at the same time. But first things first… I sighed. “I guess… We need to get to know each other.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Crispin said. And he wouldn’t stop smiling like that as he said it. 

***

Rob hung out upstairs getting some much needed sleep. Crispin agreed to call animal control and hire a new crew to fix the garage in the morning, but for now, we had a storm to weather. We sat in front of the crackling fireplace, basking in the orange light. We sat on opposite facing couches, a coffee table between us, woodsmoke and petrichor scents all about. 

“So,” I said, stroking Void as he rested on my lap.

“So,” Crispin said. 

“How old are you?”

“31. You?”

“25,” I answered. “Where were you born?”

“Here in Boston. You?”

“Same,” I said. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Party, hook up with girls,” Crispin shrugged. 

“Besides that,” I sighed. 

“Uh… I like to read.”

“What do you like to read?”

“Classics, mostly,” he said. “I recently finished a new translation of the Aeneid-”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Of course you do.”

“What does that mean?” 

“You know what it means,” I said. 

“Well what do you like to read? Low art like comic books?”

“Yes, actually,” I glared. “I love comic books. And as my fiance, you should know and support me in my interests.”

“Well, as my fiance, the same goes for you,” Crispin glared right back. 

I blanched at the word. I was his fiance. His fake-fiance, but still. I was going to have to pretend to be engaged to a man. I was going to have to sell people on the idea that I was in love with him, that I wanted him to put me in a fancy white dress and kiss me in front of a crowd of our friends and family, that I wanted him to bend me over a bed and thrust into me and make me scream with pleasure-

“What else do you do for fun?” Crispin asked. 

“Uh… I’m in an online gamer group with some other trans women,” I said, rubbing my temples to try to massage away the disturbing images. “I watch wrestling. And I like to draw.”

“What do you like to draw?”

“Houses, mostly,” I said. “Buildings. Castles, sometimes.”

“Oh hey, that’s cool!” Crispin said. 

“Really?” I said. “Most people think it’s weird that I don’t wanna draw people or anime characters or whatever.”

Crispin shrugged. “I think it’s cool.”

Stop complimenting me… No, no, he would have to compliment me a lot if we were going to sell this. “We should probably establish some backstory. How did we meet?”

“My friend Rose introduced us,” Crispin said. “Best lies are the truth.”

“Okay, but when and how did she introduce us? We can’t say we’ve only known each other a month and now we’re engaged. Nobody would believe that.”

“Good point,” he said, scratching at the side of his head. “Oh! I have an idea. I was in a sailing competition last year. We met at that.”

“You sail?”

“Yeah, I love sailing!” he said. 

“Why didn’t you mention that when I asked what you do for fun?”

“Because I figured you’d say ‘of course you do,’” he replied with that annoying perfect dimpled smile.

“Fair enough,” I said, my nose wrinkling. “So, was I in the competition, or was I a groupie?”

“There aren’t really groupies at sailing events,” Crispin said. “But my dad doesn’t know that, so we can probably sell him on it.”

“Oh, so I can’t be a sailor? I have to be some simpering fangirl who wants a-”

“Hot seaman?” he said. 

I rubbed at my temples furiously. So many images, good God! 

“If you said you were a sailor too, my sister Priscilla would start grilling you,” Crispin said. “She hasn’t gone on a boat in years, but she still knows all about it. Trust me, this is easier.”

“Fine. I’m a simp,” I said.

He laughed, the green of his eyes twinkling in the hearthlight. “Yes you are, angel.”

I gulped. “Seriously?”

“Couples have pet names, as a general rule,” he said. 

“But ‘angel,’ seriously?”

“What would you prefer? Sugar-tits?”

I went warm, warmer than the fire alone should have made me. “No.”

“Angel it is, then!” he beamed. “‘Dad, Karen, this is my fiance, my beautiful angel, Lily DiGiacomo.’” Fucking hell. I could imagine him calling me that, whispering it into my ear when I was splayed out in bed before him and he thrusted into my-

“And what should I call you? I’m assuming ‘douchebag’ isn’t an option?”

“Not unless you can say it all flirtatiously,” he chuckled. “Like it’s an insult of endearment.”

I smirked. “Oh, you mean like this?”

“Like what?”

I delicately put Void on a cushion, went over to Crispin’s couch and leaned over him, giving him a clear view of my boobs as I caressed his cheek with my hand. I pitched my voice up extra high, added a breathy little flare to it, and batted my eyelashes rapidly as I said in a Mid-Atlantic accent, “Oh, Crispin, my dear beloved douchebag, the only man who could ever tame a wild beauty such as myself, how I love you so! You are the douchebag I dream of coming home to and being held by as we live our lives of wealth and romance together! Oh, take me away, my douchebag! Show me the marvels of-”

He caught my hand by the wrist and stared at me with an indecipherable, unblinking intensity. “Yes. Like that.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said smugly, dropping the accent and letting my voice go back down to a contralto, but still leaning over him. 

“Yeah. Now please, please for the love of God, never do that again.”

I rolled my eyes as I pulled my hands out of his. “I think I can manage that.”

“No, seriously, don’t,” he said. Like he was legitimately angry with me… the hell?

“Okay,” I said softly, returning to my couch and my bunny. “Um… Do we have sex?”

His eyes bulged. “What?!”

“Like, are we banging, or are we waiting for marriage?”

“I don’t think anyone would believe I’m waiting for marriage.”

“Good point. So then we are having sex.”

Somehow, his eyes went even wider. His only auditory response was a grunt. 

“When are we getting married?” I asked.

“Uh… how about a year from now?”

“That far off?”

“Disappointed?” He smirked.

“No, just surprised. Wouldn’t it sell the whole whirlwind romance better if we get married in like a month?”

“No, Summer weddings are gauche.”

“Why?” I asked, baffled.

“They just are, trust me.”

“Okay, feel like there’s a longer story there-“

“Yes, and I’m not telling you.”

“Isn’t that something your fiancé should know?”

“…When my dad married my terrible golddigging stepmom, who’s name is literally Karen and is just the fucking worst in every possible way, it was a whole blowout event on Martha’s Vineyard during Fourth of July weekend and it was all an insult to good taste.”

I tilted my head to the side. Don’t think I’d seen this side of him before… Honestly it was kinda reassuring to know he had chinks in his armor. “Fair enough. She must be pretty bad.”

“Just the worst,” he grimaced.

“Will she be there tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh. Gotcha. Steeling myself for that. Any other pertinent deep lore I should know in advance?”

“… My mom died when I was six. Breast cancer.”

“Oh. Oh shit. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. “My younger siblings, they’re Karen’s kids.”

“I see,” I said, considering what I said next. Well, he’d shown me his… “My mom died in labor. I never actually knew her. But my dad and my brother swear up and down she was… Well she was the best, apparently. And my dad… he never quite recovered, near as I can tell. His best friends became booze and cigarettes and red meat. Then when I was fourteen… heart failure.”

“My condolences,” Cris whispered. 

“Thanks,” I smiled sadly. 

“Let’s… let’s table this for the night, yeah?” Cris said. 

“Good idea,” I nodded, taking my bunny in hand as I stood up. “You can crash on the couch. Don’t think you should drive in this storm. We can finish getting our story straight tomorrow, yeah?”

“Perfect. Good night, angel.”

I knew I was supposed to groan, to glare, to get mad at him calling me that needlessly, but… I didn’t. I found, to my shock, I kinda liked it when he called me that.