***Edited on 11/22/2014
Disclaimer - If you couldn't tell by the story summary, this is a story about an otherwise straight and homophobic person being put into several situations with gay people. There are opinions, expressions, themes, and controversial writing that might upset some sensitive readers. There are comments made about types of members in the gay community, lots of homophobia, a plethora of politically incorrect statements, and really bad stereotypes in here. People have emailed me to say they are offended by reading this. I just want to say that these opinions don't reflect my own, and should you find something offensive, take it lightheartedly or make fun of it. This, afterall, isn't really a serious story. It's meant for entertainment and fun, and I wanted to do something challenging, so before you get on a political or socio-economic soapbox and flame me, please keep what I've said in mind. That being said, please read, review, and enjoy. -Paige
They learned much more from the newspaper articles than they could by trying to stalk Max Felton on the internet. His profile page didn't reveal much. It was quite private, in fact, Facebook only gave a name and the picture of a very handsome 27-year-old millionaire with perfectly placed chocolate tufts of hair. His grin seemed infectious, the kind a real estate agent would want on their billboards. Rachel's pouty red lips crept upwards into a smile the second she saw his face. Instantly, David knew that his girlfriend was excited about their new target.
"Well, at least he's hot." she concluded, her heels clomping away at the hardwood floor as she left her boyfriend's side to plop on the couch. Her favorite reality TV show was starting soon… the one where the girls all fight for some guy with a pretty face and the winner gets a dream wedding… only to be divorced before the finale even airs. The older man in the background contorted his face in disgust the second she took control of the remote. David fought back a cringe as the scar on the old guy's cheek contorted his grimace. It ran from ear to nose. Victor was from Russia or something, and David never wanted to know why he had such a creepy fucking mark on his face.
"I'm tired of talk, talk, talk. When the fuck do we take the money?" the Russian asked as he chipped away at his nails with a switchblade. Rachel only smiled his way. When did she get messed up with this guy again?
"Aren't you the one in charge of the rendezvous thing?" David snapped back, his blue eyes cautiously darting away from the ex-mafioso. The blade snapped back into its closed position and David fought the urge to jump. He didn't even need to look away from the computer screen to know the old man stood up.
"Why don't you concentrate on your shit, pilot." Victor quietly suggested. Startled, David shuddered and whirled his head to the left. The Russian somehow ghosted over to the blond and hovering over his shoulder. "I'll take care of mine."
Victor turned on one heel and retreated towards his room without another word. "Give me a week." The old man called from his bedroom doorway. "I'll find a way for your pretty girlfriend to run into this Max."
The plan was always simple: they'd trick some rich shmuck into letting one of the trio get their bank information. Then they'd commit some serious identity theft and empty bank accounts. Usually it was some spoiled asshole who was like a trust fund baby or a pompus prick that seriously deserved it. With a brunette bombshell with the body of a supermodel like Rachel, the guys never knew what hit them. She was really good at pretending to be trophy wife material. Keyword: pretending.
As stupid as their scheme seemed, they hadn't gotten themselves caught yet. Despite having the IQ of a nail file when it came to anything other than high fashion, makeup, spending money, and hairstyling techniques, Rachel was actually really good at concealing her real identity around these rich fools. Her other talent? She seemingly knew everything about that one celebrity that was somehow famous for being the daughter of some dead lawyer who won a high-profile murder case involving a pro sports player. David couldn't remember the name. He just knew the chick was dating some famous rapper or something.
As promised, Victor tracked down their newest target within the week. David never questioned the old man's methods. That scarface was never wrong anyway. So, on some idle Thursday, Rachel spent three hours applying crimson lipstick and straightening her hair. Max was worth 15 large, so she needed to put her game face on. Once she shimmied into her scandalous little black dress, the three headed out to the bar of some swanky hotel lobby so David's girlfriend could get down to business.
David and Victor waited on the lobby couches, magazine and newspaper in hand, respectively. They pretended to read but really, they were keeping an eye on the single millionaire at the bar. Most hotels had their lounges in different areas altogether, but this one made being a spectator very simple. The bar was housed in room of window panes. Enticing if someone had just came in here from a long flight. Rachel made her entrance and they watched with anticipation. There's no way anyone could resist her; that swanky little black dress made her look like one of those hot chicks in a television beer ad. David knew she was a perfect 10 every time he saw her in it.
The red soles of her designer shoes strutted down the imaginary catwalk towards the Max guy. Her hips swayed like she meant it and it was obvious that she was getting every man's attention in the place. David grinned while watching her approach the man they were after. Things seemed to be going perfect. Even the bartender lifted an interested eyebrow at her while pouring the martini she ordered. David watched his girlfriend start to chat with the millionaire in question. She smiled one red-lipped smile that made her teeth so bright it should have been more illegal than the acts they were going to commit. She leaned over while saying something witty, then she did the classic "index finger down the bicep" move.
And then things started to go wrong…very, very wrong. Sexy catwalk-style strut forgotten, she stomped out of the bar without taking a sip of her glass muttering insults under her breath.
"Fucking ridiculous!" she shouted the second she reached her accomplices, and it was loud enough make everyone in the lobby pause for a moment.
"Shhh!" Victor ordered, trying to keep a low profile.
"What happened!?" David asked, concerned. Rachel looked like a damn model! This sort of thing, well, it just didn't happen!
"He's fucking gay!" she growled, crossing her arms in front of her as her clutch dangled from its chain around her wrist. David paused and looked at the guy in the bar. Max was contently staring at his phone while short blonde guy nudged his shoulder. The millionaire instantly grinned, and you could see his eyes brighten, even from as far away as they were.
"Well, let's just go home and wait for the next big fish." David sighed, rolling his eyes.
"No." she argued. "15 Million Dollars."
"But he's a fag, there's nothing we can do." David defended, dropping the magazine into his lap.
The woman dropped into the lounge chair she'd been standing in front of and patiently observed the hot piece of ass she couldn't charm.
It took a second. No, it took less time than that. Her crimson pout curved into deviousness and the crook of her eyebrow told David everything before she even snapped her eyes towards her blond boyfriend. "Look David, he likes blonds, you're just his type." she teased.
Except she wasn't teasing. She was serious. Dead fucking serious, and David's pretty blue eyes bulged out of his head the same time his jaw dropped in horror. As if that was even an option. Hell to the no. Not fucking happening. Not now. Not ever.
"No. Are you fucking kidding me!? That's disgusting . . . No!" he refused. Just the thought gave him nightmare flashbacks of having to defend his primal straightness in high school.
"So I heard you and that fag Eric have a thing for each other."
"What!? What the fuck, man! Fuck no!"
"Then prove it before I mash your fag face in."
Rachel had a pout of determination and her eyes were not faltering. This bitch was serious, and as far as she was concerned, David was going to be seeking out Max in a gay man's costume tomorrow. Victor smiled and walked away. He already knew who was winning this battle.
David's anger melted into fear after seeing her stone-cold and unforgiving eyes. "No. I'm not gay, it just won't work, I can't..."
"You will." Her words blew a frosty interruption David's way.
"No!" he said again. He despised gay men. Hated them even. He was homophobic to the core. He even ditched his best friend in high school when that guy came out of the closet. He and his friends ruined his shoes in gym class . . . Threatened him until he dropped out of basketball tryouts. They all scared him into not going into prom. They made sure the fucker ate all his lunches in the bathroom where they couldn't find him.
"15 million dollars says you WILL do it." Rachel demanded. "Or else I'm leaving you for a REAL man."
David was good looking, but he was quite aware that Rachel was out of his league. She dragged him home quickly while he protested this new plan of hers, and they both knew he was going to end up seducing this Max character whether he liked it or not.
11/22/2014 A/N: Here I am again, cleaning things up again... for the third time... yeah sorry. Don't kill me. The epilogue is done. I just can't live with myself if this thing isn't cleaned up. Bear with me, it's my baby. I want to make it as close to decent as possible. If there isn't a "edited on **/**/****" notice in bold at the top of the page, I haven't gotten to that chapter yet. Thanks for reading!