There was a gaping hole in my heart, and the weather outside seemed to agree. Just like a chunk of my soul had been removed with a rusty saw, part of the heavens had been ripped out and a torrential downpour was threatening to topple and pound through every building in Boston.

I stared darkly at the stack of papers on the desk in front of me. Goode Enterprises was sinking like a rock, but I could care less.

I had stormed into my office three hours ago, slammed the door, and barked at every employee who thought it would be a good idea to bother me. Thankfully, the interruptions had stopped after my third verbal beating of the morning, leaving me to my brooding in peace.

Now, with a frustrated growl, I swiped the mountain of paperwork into my briefcase and left the office building as abruptly as I had come in earlier. There was no way I was going to get work done. Not when all I could think about was her.

I couldn't escape her. Not in the building elevator (where we had some escapades that should not be mentioned anywhere except a tabloid), not in the svelte BMW pulled up for me by the valet (again – the tabloids would've died for a peek), and certainly not in my flat, where her perfume of Bond No9 still pervaded the air. I couldn't even get a break in supermarkets, because our picture was splattered across every gossip magazine by the checkout counter.

She was everywhere. Macey McHenry. New England royalty and the celebrity it-girl of the year. And until a few months ago, my girlfriend.

"Hello, Zicky," an entirely too-jovial voice announced, and a weight flopped down next to me.

"Get out," I commanded before I was even fully awake. I raised a foot to shove my oldest friend and business partner, Grant Newman, off the bed. "I'm not in the mood. And I've told you a million times not to call me Zicky."

"What a downer," Grant mumbled, pulling himself off the floor and dusting off imaginary lint. He paused and squinted at me. "It's been three whole months, man. You have a choice now: get over it, or drown your sorrows at a bar. And I'm surprised you have attempted neither. For God's sake, I can barely call you a bro now. Where's the gung-ho alcoholic spirit?"

"I can't believe I'm in business with a five year old," I moaned, finally sitting up against the headboard. "What are you doing here? You're not even supposed to have a key."

"It is…" he looked down at his watch, "…nine o' clock on a Friday night. I am taking you out so maybe you can regain some semblance of a guy. Seriously, I'm impressed that you had such a fully developed teenage girl hiding in you."

"Not. In. The. Mood," I seethed.

"Aw, come on. You love me."

I sent a withering glare at him. "No, if I remember correctly, I don't love anybody except myself."

"Man, she didn't mean it like that."

"She would be here still if she didn't mean it. She said it, and she obviously meant it. You know what she did? Yesterday, she sent somebody to pick up her clothes from the closet. She hates me so much that she didn't even come herself. She had to send somebody. I am an awful person."

Grant pinched me.

"Shove off! What the hell was that for?"

"I've decided it will be my new warning for you. Every time you phase back into teenage girl mode, I'm going to pinch you. Seriously, man up. You screwed up. So as a member of the testosterone-driven sex, you have two options. Win her back, or apologize. But let me serve as a warning that the second option has the potential to earn you a massive pinch, courtesy of moi."

"And you say I'm the girl," I snapped, but I could start to see the appeal in leaving the flat for once. "Okay. Let's go. And you will spend your time telling me exactly how I'm going to win Macey back. And buying me drinks, because this was your idea in the first place."

"Mission accomplished," Grant declared happily.

He left and closed the door so I could glare a hole through it and imagine that it drilled straight through his head.

"No. Nononono. I refuse. That is manipulation. That is evil. That is…is…"

"Pure genius?" Grant supplied.

"I was thinking more along the lines of insane. Borderline sadistic."

"Aw come on. We live in Boston. There are plenty of broke university girls in the area, and I bet they're begging for money. You wouldn't really be using them if they knew and agreed to it. It's like a blood drive – you aren't sucking away their life force if they volunteered to donate."

"You're crazy."

"No more than the next guy. Look, that girl over there is super hot. She's kinda got a Megan Fox vibe going on. And that one over there, she could be cute if she would pull her hair back."

"I'm leaving. You suck."

"So you'll do it?" Grant yelled at my retreating back.

In my distraction to hiss back at him that no, I was neither a lunatic nor a psychopath like he was and would therefore not be following his plan, I tripped over the prettiest waitress I had ever seen. But she was only a waitress, and a pretty serving girl couldn't compare to Macey McHenry, especially if she spilled all of the drinks on her tray on my shoes.

"Watch where you're going," I snarled angrily. "These shoes cost more than you're ever going to earn in one paycheck."

She picked herself up off the floor, looking in dismay at all the shattered glass and spilled liquid on the floor. Grant had rushed over, and I heard him apologizing profusely for me, but all I wanted was to leave.

"Zicky, your manners are awful. Are you even going to apologize? Look, she's even bleeding from that glass."

The girl looked at me curiously, no doubt wondering about the "Zicky" nickname. It just made me more annoyed.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Grant continued, as if I had decided to cooperate. "My name's Grant Newman, and that's my friend, Zach Goode. But Zicky's his nickname, so feel free to call him that."

"Don't," I snapped, shooting Grant an annoyed look. Some friend.

"He's in a bad mood because his girlfriend dumped him," Grant whispered conspirationally. "He's usually a lot more fun to be around." As he looked at the girl in front of him trying to wipe the blood smears off of her white apron, a light bulb seemed to go off in his head.

"No," I commanded, grabbing onto one of his arms and trying to pull him away before he could say what I thought he was going to say. But he refused to budge.

"Are you a student in the Boston area?" he asked.

I did my best to talk him out of it. "She's too plain. It wouldn't make sense, going from Macey to her." (She glared at me at that, as if she were trying to say "I'm right here!"…as if I had the energy to care.)

"Sure," she responded, ignoring me. "Full time student, part time waitress."

"Are you looking for a better paying job?" Grant pushed on.

"She's too short."

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Well, Zicky here –" Grant clapped me on the back.

"She's horribly inept at carrying drinks to customers."

"Zach, really!" Grant interrupted my verbal berating of her. " When are you going to get another chance for this? Make it up to this girl…uhm…?"

"Cammie," the blonde supplied.

"Make it up to Cammie and her bloodied hands. It's not like we aren't going to pay her or something."

"Are you trying to recruit me into prostitution?" Cammie deadpanned. "Because I'm just going to tell you upfront that I would be the worst hooker you ever met."

"I don't doubt it," I replied with just as bored a drawl. "No one would ever pay for you."

Okay, probably not true, but I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

Suddenly, something clicked with her. "Oh my gosh. Zach Goode. Grant Newman. You guys are the founders of Goode Enterprises."

When most people realized who we were they got a reverent look on their face, realizing they were standing in the presence of 22-year-old millionaires. But she didn't exactly look like that. She looked more…grounded. And it annoyed me to no end.

"Oh look who finally understood something. I guess all that thinking at college is finally paying off, huh?" I remarked.

"Excuse me, but I'm going back to work," she said smoothly. "I have a mess to tend to, and some customers I have to get new drinks for. If you come back, try not to sit in my section. I'm sure my fellow waiters Nick and Liz would love to exchange snark with you all day, but frankly, I could do without your caustic attitude."

I narrowed my eyes at her as she walked away. Her tone told us that she was ignoring the fact that by extension, Grant and I owned the bar she was working in and could have her fired if we wanted. The nerve she had to talk to her boss' boss' boss that way! But Grant didn't seem to want to get off my case about her.

"You guys banter like a married couple."

"I hate you."

"She's perfect for our plan."

"I never even agreed to that in the first place. Come on, we're leaving."

"Don't tell me you don't feel the cosmic energy pushing you two together."

"All I feel is the overwhelming urge to figure out why I ever decided befriending you and then making you my business partner was a good idea."

Another week of self-imposed doom-and-gloom passed, leaving an entire staff of meek and near-silent staff in its wake. Every day, I came in the building, shut myself in my office, demanded not to be disturbed, and promptly chewed off the heads of anybody who thought I didn't mean what I said.

I hadn't really developed any ideas about how to approach Macey, other than to wait for her to come back to me and say she'd forgiven me. But as days passed and nothing happened, the alternative plan Grant had concocted looked more and more attractive.

On Friday afternoon, I picked up my phone.

"Fine. You win. I'll meet you at the bar at seven."

I only heard Grant's smile before I hung up.

Against Cammie's wishes, Grant made sure we were sitting exactly in her section, despite all my protests.

"Anybody but her," I pleaded. "Come on, I was a jackass to her last week. What makes you think she'd even contemplate going along with it? She's more likely to scream no in my face and slap me before saying yes."

"At least you recognize you were a jackass," Grant muttered. "But there was definitely a connection. You guys had a spark."

"You're so full of it. The only thing that was sparked was a simmering hatred for me in her very core."

"And you think I'm dramatic." Grant rolled his eyes. "Give it a go. Besides, she already knows you want something. Why embarrass yourself in front of more of the female population if you don't have to?"

Before I had a chance to retort, Cammie came over.

"Oh. You."

Grant flashed a winning smile. "You're still looking for money to pay for college, right?"

"I thought I already established that I'm not willing to be a hooker for you guys."

I cleared my throat, suddenly more nervous than I wished to be. In the days when Goode Enterprises was still doing well, I was as cool as a cucumber in corporate takeovers. But I couldn't even ask this girl a simple question.

Cammie looked at me expectantly. Grant prodded me along with raised, anticipant eyebrows. I sighed.

"I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

Hello, to readers both new and old! If you're new to the "Getting the Guy/Girl" series, I'm just going to say now that you might want to start with the Cammie Morgan edition first. They're all standalone stories, but if you want to start from the beginning, that's where to go :)
With that out of the way, I'm just going to say that this story is going to end up a lot longer than the first "Getting the Guy" story. So I decided to break it up into 2000 word chunks (ish). And I plan on updating every four or five days.

Okay I'm going to announce this now before somebody digs into me: THIS IS NOT A ZACH-MACEY STORY. It may seem like it, but bear with me. I promise if you guys are patient, you'll be happy in the end :)

Sooo? What do you think made Macey break up with Zach? (okay actually, you guys are never going to guess this one because I haven't given you enough clues yet) What do you think Cammie's going to say to Zach's crazy request? What do you think Grant's master plan is? I'm curious to see what you guys think at this point!

As always, if you have any requests for "Getting the Guy/Girl" pairings, I'm totally open. As of now, I've done the two main characters, Zach and Cammie. But I think Bex was most popular after them, so unless you guys tell me differently, her POV will probably be next on the menu.

Love,
achi