(He’ s a published author and he likes me!)

(Me!)

‘ Drink?’  he asked.

‘ Sure. Thanks.’

‘ By the way,’  he said as he handed me a glass of wine, ‘ I’ m all for keeping the fact that this is our first date on the QT.’

I smiled agreeably and took a sip.

(Oh no, he’ s ashamed of me.)

Attempting to check my insecurities, I harkened back to the advice I used to read in Teen magazine. I asked him about himself. Once I did, I relaxed. Sebastian Forbes put on his Armani slacks one leg at a time like anyone else.

Turned out he worked as a copywriter for DDB advertising agency and had written this book in his spare time over the past two years. That meant giving up any semblance of a social life, he told me, cashing in the evenings he used to spend clubbing by banging away on his computer. (And I wasn’ t sure what I envied more, the fact that he gave up clubbing to write or the fact that he’ d been clubbing in the first place.) He wasn’ t sure if he was writing anything people would care about. ‘ I had a story I had to tell, that’ s all I knew,’  he said. ‘ Corny as that sounds.’  After he found an agent and he started shopping the manuscript, he found himself in a bidding war, a rare occurrence for a first-time author. Only once he made it through the grueling editing process did he realize how much of his life he’ d let slide, and-pardon me while my ears perked-he was eager to get things back on track.

So the guy set my hormones in motion. Even more amazing was how comfortable I felt talking to Sebastian. Like talking to one of my girlfriends-only a handsome girlfriend who was starting to get the faintest shadow of stubble along her strong, masculine jaw.

‘ Aren’ t you nervous?’  I asked.

‘ A bit. I can’ t believe this turnout. And the L.A. Times book reviewer is supposed to show up.’

‘ That seems like a pretty big deal.’

‘ It could make me or break me.’

The room filled, and I was taking up the attention of the man of honor. ‘ I feel like I’ m hogging the bride and groom at a wedding,’  I confessed to him.

‘ I’ m grateful for the distraction, but you’ re right. I should be mingling. Here, let me introduce you around.’  He took my arm, then hesitated before saying, ‘ June& you have any nicknames?’

‘ My mom calls me June Bug. My brother had a few that don’ t bear repeating. Why?’

‘ You don’ t strike me as a June. I see you as having a spunkier name. Like, oh, I don’ t know, JJ.’

Then he led me into the crowd. ‘ Come on, JJ, I need you with me to face the firing squad.’

I met his agent and his publicist, each one shaking my hand and saying things along the lines of ‘ It is so wonderful to meet you’  and, even more strangely, ‘ JJ, you’ re everything I imagined.’

I’ d heard movie people were a bunch of phonies. Maybe publishing people were the same-lots of air kissing and pretending to be fabulous friends. It was baffling, however, how many congratulated me. I could understand Sebastian& but me? After the third time it happened-the woman had even grabbed my hand and said, ‘ Sebastian, you bad boy& why is this still bare?’  I turned to Sebastian.

‘ What the heck was that all-’

‘ Sorry to interrupt,’  he said, ‘ but we’ re ready to get under way.’

He escorted me to a chair in the front of the room. ‘ I saved this seat for you,’  he said, and he kissed my cheek before heading to the podium.

Sebastian read several excerpts from his novel, which was quite good. It was the story of a man who met the love of his life in the 1960s at a Peter, Paul & Mary concert and followed their courtship against the backdrop of the folk music era. It was quirky and smart-a romance novel, only from the man’ s point of view.

After reading, he answered questions from the audience. Then he introduced and thanked the agent and publicist I’ d met earlier. Before finishing, he said, ‘ And lastly, allow me to introduce my beloved JJ.’  Everyone applauded, and he motioned for me to stand, which I did, waving around to the people while confusion and dread formed a stew in my stomach. My beloved JJ?

Psycho. The guy was clearly a psycho. Oh, why did I ever let Susan talk me into the Internet? Everyone knows it’ s crawling with loonies.

As I entertained thoughts of being held captive in a cellar later while Sebastian decided which part of me he’ d use to make his coat of human flesh, the guy who’ d served as bouncer earlier announced that we’ d be taking a brief break, after which Mr. Forbes would sign books.

Sebastian came over and this time kissed my forehead. ‘ How’ d I do?’

Be calm& be cool& don’ t aggravate the crazy man.

‘ Great! But you know what I realized? I need to go.’

His face fell. ‘ You’ re leaving?’

‘ I forgot I have this big meeting tomorrow.’  I faked a yawn. ‘ But I loved your book. Thanks so much for inviting me.’

‘ Can’ t you stick around a while longer?’

No sudden movements that might startle him.& ‘ It was lovely, really. But I need to get going.’

‘ Give me a few more minutes, please. Let me explain.’  He pleaded so earnestly-and even though he was a psychopath, his face still seemed sweet-I let him lead me behind a bookshelf, where I figured my screams could be heard. ‘ The L.A. Times book reviewer isn’ t here yet, and my publicist says he’ s due any minute. Can’ t you stay for that, at least?’

‘ To be honest, Sebastian, I don’ t understand what’ s going on here.’

‘ Going on?’

‘ Everybody acts as if they know me, and they keep congratulating me. Then you introduce me as your beloved JJ.’

‘ What, people can’ t be friendly?’

‘ Thank you, I’ ll be leaving now.’

‘ Wait!’  he whispered urgently, grabbing my arm. ‘ There’ s something else.’

‘ I’ m listening.’

‘ I may have let it get around that we were engaged.’

‘ Engaged?! Why!?’

‘ Think about it. I’ m writing about a lifelong romance between a man and a woman, but I’ m coming to my own event stag? No one would take me seriously.’

‘ You couldn’ t get a friend to pretend for you?’

He released my arm. ‘ I didn’ t want to be that& devious. I was hoping you wouldn’ t catch on, the press would write it up-and by the time anyone was the wiser, my book would already be at the top of the best-seller list.’

‘ Weren’ t you scared people might see your personal ad?’

‘ It was a chance I had to take.’

‘ Sebastian, I wish you luck. I do. But-’

‘ No buts, please! I’ m begging you! Just for another hour or so, pretend to be my fiancée. Please& as a favor to a fellow writer. I hate to ask this of you, but when I got your letter and photo, you seemed so nice.’

‘ I’ m not comfortable with this. I’ m sorry& .’  And I turned to go.

He slumped against the shelf. ‘ You think I’ m a lunatic, right?’

‘ I& uh& ‘  Yes?!!?

‘ Would it ease your mind if I mention to you that, lovely as you are, you’ re not exactly my type?’

‘ What-’  I bristled, finally fed up and not afraid to let him know. Now the psycho was going to insult me as well? ‘ You mean sane?’

‘ No. Female.’

I stared at him, he shrugged, and after a second a light bulb went on over my head. ‘ Oh.’

No wonder he was so good-looking.

‘ I’ m not in the closet, but for this first book, I thought it would be best if I appeared to be straight. The book has received good buzz. If the press found out I was gay, no matter how glowing the reviews, it would still be a gay man’ s account of a romance. I didn’ t want to see it limited that way. Believe me, once this hits it big, I won’ t care what anyone thinks. I’ ll hand out free copies at the Gay fucking Pride parade.’

‘ I don’ t claim to know anything about writing books,’  I said, neglecting to mention the Carpoolers Guide to Road Safety I’ d authored, ‘ but don’ t they say ‘ Write about what you know’ ? Shouldn’ t you have written about a gay relationship?’

‘ This is what I know. It’ s the story of my parents’  courtship-and it’ s a love story, but it’ s also a story about drug addiction and wife swapping and other things they grew out of and would be humiliated to have anyone know they used to do. They’ re dead. I wrote this to honor their memory in my heart, but to publicize it to the world as their story would have them spinning in their graves.’

There it was.

How could I not help a man trying to tell his dead parents’  story of romance?

‘ Oh, crud& ‘

He saw his opening. ‘ Sit next to me while I sign. Emit estrogen. That’ s it.’

‘ Fine,’  I huffed. ‘ But you’ d better really be gay.’

‘ Please. Would a straight man wear shoes this expensive?’

AFTERWARD OVER DINNER, I got the whole story. JJ was his boyfriend, to whom the book was dedicated and who-along with the rest of Sebastian’ s friends-boycotted the reading. That’ s how disgusted they were about his playing straight. But one friend-a Latvian model-trying-to-turn-actress named Mjorka, who had a tendency to be game for anything-had volunteered to play his fiancée. When she canceled on Sebastian for a last-minute shoot in Bolivia, in desperation he posted a profile online to see if he could find someone. Then along came my e-mail.

‘ JJ’ s probably dumped me for good,’  he lamented. ‘ So maybe I’ ll switch my profile over to a gay site. How do you like Internet dating?’

I explained what I was doing with Marissa’ s list and decided to cross off Go on a blind date right there at the table. He made me feel the evening was worth it, applauding so wildly that the waitress came by to ask if champagne was in order.

Chapter 5

R ose Morales peered at me over thick red reading glasses. ‘ So,’  she said, straightening papers on the desk between us, ‘ why do you want to be a Big Sister?’