The genesis of the fake-date

ZACK

At Buzztone, budget cuts are a death knell for a podcast. I honestly don’t care much if the show dies and we have to move on to something else, but Three Single Guys is Josh’s baby. He started the podcast five years ago, when he was studying communications at uni. Luke joined after about a year, but I came in later.

It’s a funny story. Growing up, Josh and I were best mates — we both lived on the same street and went to the same school. We lost contact for a bit when I started playing rugby, but after I tore my ACL and got kicked off the team, Josh found me again. I was a mess: drunk and depressed. He scraped me off the floor of my hotel, moved me into his apartment, and flat-out demanded that I join the show.

It was actually a really great move; I attracted a ton of new listeners to the podcast, and Three Single Guys has been doing pretty well ever since.

Until now.

“Figure something out,” Paul orders, giving us one last stern look, then picking up his tablet and leaving the room.

I flip off the door as it swings shut. “I still think we should just go independent,” I say. “We’ve been doing this long enough to work stuff out by ourselves.”

As usual, no one listens to me.

Josh is frowning at the pile of papers in front of him. “Something fresh,” he repeats. I can practically hear the cogs turning in his head. “That we’ve never done before. That will attract viewer engagement, and prove to people that we actually know what we’re doing.”

“You got something?” I ask.

He nods slowly. “I think so.” He looks up at me. “Call Layla. Have her meet us at our place after she’s done with work.”

“What?” Luke asks. “Why?”

“I have an idea. But we’re going to need her help.”

*****

LAYLA

“You… want to date me?” I ask later that evening, my stomach flipping.

“Fake-date,” Josh corrects quickly. “It would all be pretend.” Zack nods and grins, like that makes perfect sense. I squint at them.

This was not what I expected when Zack asked me to come over to their flat after work. I honestly thought it would be some kind of intervention. I spent the whole afternoon in my meetings mentally drafting my apology. When I finally made it back to their flat, all three men were at their breakfast bar, drinking beers and huddled over pages of handwritten notes. Before I could even open my mouth to say sorry, they’d sat me down, offered me a drink, and proceeded to pitch the stupidest-sounding idea that I’ve ever heard.

I look between the guys. Zack is beaming enthusiastically. Luke won’t look up from his beer. Josh’s eyes are fixed fiercely on me.

I bite my lip. “And you think you can actually teach me how to date?”

“‘Course, pet,” Zack says easily. “We’re love masters.”

Luke frowns. “There’s no way this is really necessary,” he says flatly. “You can’t be that bad at dating.” He waves at me. “I mean, look at you.”

I look down at myself. “What do you mean?”

Zack leans forward, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. “Yeah, Mr Martins. What do you mean?”

“I…” Luke runs a hand through his silvering hair, his cheeks flushing.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Layla. You’re smart and put-together. Give it some time, and you’ll find the right guy.”

“I’ve given it plenty of time. If it was going to happen, it would have by now.” I turn back to Josh. “Okay. Assuming I did this, how would it work?”

Josh shuffles through the papers. “We’d take you on dates. Let you practice flirting. Get you comfortable with displays of affection. We can help get you acclimated to… romantic situations.”

“We’d basically be your boyfriends,” Zack says cheerfully.

“More or less,” Josh cuts in. “We can walk you through all of the things that you’re unsure about. Text a guy. Invite him round to your place. Apologising after a fight.” He tilts his head, his dark eyes drinking me in.

“Do you think that will be helpful for you?”

Yeah, I think it will be helpful. Being able to roleplay with the guys, who I know won’t judge me when I mess up, is the most helpful thing anyone could do for me.

It’s almost too helpful.

“What do you get out of it?” I say slowly.

“Content,” Josh says promptly. “I think we can turn the concept into a segment on our show. Like… a dating makeover. We take someone who’s romantically hopeless and teach her how to start a relationship. That way, we give the audience actual, practical tips, and we can prove our credentials to our listeners.”

“... okay,” I say. “Why do you need to do that?”

“Some knobheads have been saying online that we shouldn’t be giving advice,” Zack says, scowling. “But you could help us prove them wrong.

We’d be your fake boyfriends, then at the end of every week, you’d come on the show for fifteen minutes and talk about what we taught you. Easy peasy.”

“Our numbers are flagging,” Josh admits. “It would be a great way of getting engagements. We can have listeners tweet in with date suggestions, answer polls, stuff like that.”

Zack nods. “Our production manager almost came when we pitched the idea to him.”

I dither. “What exactly would be my commitments? I’m pretty busy.”

“I know.” Josh flips through his pages of notes. “I’d ask for one formal date night per week, and three hours’ recording time on Sundays. We’ll also give you some homework.”

“I’m gonna teach you how to sext,” Zack says gleefully. “I already have a ton of material.”

“Zack,” Luke says sharply, setting his beer down hard on the counter.

I don’t say anything. I feel a bit giddy. Luke might not approve, but honestly, the idea is very appealing. The guys are actually going to help me.