Playing Pretend Box Set

by Natasha L. Black

  Even Dad's periodic apologetic looks couldn't change my mind at this point.

  My decision was made.

  Mom and Dad somehow worked well together, but for me, Mom was way too much. She was never satisfied. Her hobby, other than reorganizing old albums and taking new photos, was nagging. While Dad must have somehow gained an immunity to it over the years, I hadn't.

  I could still remember my first few years of university, when her influence was so strong that whenever I was about to make any type of decision—from taking three scoops of ice cream instead of two, to going to a late night party with someone I didn't know very well—sure as shit, her voice would appear in my head, scolding me for it.

  No, I was a grown-ass woman now. I loved my mom, and I loved my dad, but I wanted my own life and not to be constantly critiqued for it.

  This new start in the United States, for it to be a new start, I really needed to do something different. New. I didn't care if I ended up homeless, so long as I didn't have to live with my parents. That way, at least, I could maintain my self-respect.

  Then there was Giovanni. I could take him up on his offer, at least long enough for me to save up enough money so I could move out on my own, if it came to it.

  He had said we could see how it went...

  It was only on the bus ride back to Miami that I realized I'd completely forgotten to mention anything about Giovanni to my parents. Nor had I thought of a solution to this party. Giovanni had basically already told his family that mine would be there. Maybe we could explain it away for now, but that didn't change the fact that I would have to deal with it eventually.

  Someone was going to tell my parents or mention it to them. That was how secrets worked. The more you needed it to stay quiet… Well, you couldn't exactly keep being married to someone from your own parents for five years. There was no way.

  But, on the crowded, rainy bus, whose windows jangled so loudly at each bump I was afraid they may cave in, I couldn't think of an answer. I could barely think at all. No, all there was to do was stare out at the nighttime landscape, mysterious and enticing in its gloom.

  When I got off the bus, I made my way back to the hotel for what I could only assume had to be my last night.

  The next day, I finally called Giovanni back.

  "I need time to think," I told him.

  "The party's in—"

  "Two days, I've got it," I assured him. "If worst comes to worst, we can put off your mom meeting my parents."

  "Can we?" he asked coolly. He paused.

  I paused.

  What else was there to say? I needed time to think, letting my head get messed up by whatever he did, or didn't, say wouldn't help things. "Yeah. Thanks, bye."

  Later that day, I went for lunch with Jen, who was looking unusually rosy, wearing her good luck lemon-printed summer dress.

  "What's the occasion?" I asked. We sat outside, sharing a Dairy Queen brownie explosion.

  She kept her gaze carefully focused on the brownie and whipped cream she was scooping up with her long, red spoon. "What? I can't just be happy that the weather is finally nice enough that I don't have to wear a thousand layers of clothing?"

  I waited until I'd swallowed the ice cream in my mouth before snorting. "Okay, if you don't want to tell me."

  Spoon halfway to her mouth, Jen bit her lip. Stabbing her spoon down back into the sundae, she sighed. "Oh, Kandy. He's amazing."

  "Oh no," I said.

  Jen glared at me. "Can't you have faith in me for once?"

  "I do have faith in you," I pointed out. "Just not in your taste in men. Remember the last guy? He was a doorman at the Hilton, but he stole a ton of money from you!"

  Jen's gaze became forbidding. "Please do not remind me of that. Horatio is firmly in my past." She sighed. "But Gino."

  I squinted at her.

  That was the same name as Giovanni's brother. Weird. But, considering Giovanni said he was a raging alcoholic and a derelict, I doubt even Jen would have gone for him. It must have been a coincidence.

  "Was that the guy you were dancing with the other night?" I asked.

  Jen screwed up her nose. "Ugh, not him. He was a total creep. When I wouldn't go home with him, he tried physically pulling me out of the club and that's when..." Her face assumed the dreamy look again, like she might topple over into her ice cream. "Gino."

  "You're going to have to give me more than that to go on," I said. "Because right now, I'm imagining an invisible man... Named Gino."

  Jen huffed. "I mean, I could explain him to you. I could tell you that he has tan skin and dark hair, like a Greek God. Cheekbones to drool over, and he has these big eyes and he's so strong. A little bit dark, too. And he reads poetry!"

  "Okay," I said. "So, what, he's an artist?"

  That was Jen's type. Horatio, though he'd been a doorman at the Hilton, and a class-A asshole, had also indulged in singing some Metallica karaoke when he'd had a bit too much to drink. Which was enough for Jen to refer to him as an artist, I suppose. Probably just because he was mopey and spent most of his time fantasizing about what he wanted instead of working for it.

  Not that I had anything against artists. After all, Giovanni...

  "You're not even listening!" Jen protested, grabbing the ice cream, and yanking it toward her. She stabbed her spoon in again and took a hefty bite, chewing furiously.

  "Whoa there, tiger," I said. "I guess I just started to tune out when you began describing his luscious locks of hair for the third time."

  Jen paused in the middle of her rampage, a chagrined expression crossing her face.

  "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm going to try and be careful this time. It's just that we've had two dates already, and I know he's the one!"

  "You said that about Horatio," I reminded her.

  "But he is," Jen protested. "He opens doors for me, and he isn't pressuring me to go all the way yet. He pays for dates. He's funny, he's honest—"

  "And Claude," I reminded her.

  "And he's a great listener, but he can still make amazing conversation—"

  "And Peter."

  "And I'm seeing him again tonight. He's genuine and..." She trailed off, catching my eye roll. "I know you're dubious, Kandice. You have a right to be, but for once, I think this is going to work out."

  My poor friend looked so genuinely delighted. I didn't have it in me to poke fun at her anymore.

  "Okay." I reached over and gave her hand a supportive squeeze. "If this guy makes you happy, then great. Just—"

  "Be careful," Jen finished for me. "Just like you and Giovanni have been?" Her brow quirked and I played with the remnants of our sundae, now a puddle of creamy soup at the bottom.

  "I never said that I was going to back off last night," I reminded her. "In fact, I said that I was more open to the situation and that I wasn't going to lie to myself anymore."

  "Well that's just peachy," Jen said. "You still haven't told me what went down between you and Giovanni, though."

  "Yeah, and you haven't told me what happened with you and Gino."

  Jen stiffened and threw a braid over her shoulder.

  "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That night at the bar, he took a taxi home with me, gave me a kiss goodnight on the cheek, and that was it. A perfect gentleman."

  Her narrowed gaze peered at me from under her sandy lashes, daring me to say anything different. She smiled with self-satisfaction. "Okay. Your turn."

  "Fine," I said. "It's just what you think. We had some wonderful, hot sex in his limo and—"

  "Hold the hell up," Jen said. "You had sex in his limo? This guy has a limo?"

  "Oh, sorry," I said. "Did I really say that? I meant his old, beat up, '75 Ford Conqueror."

  Jen snorted. "Hilarious. But seriously. This guy isn't just a handsome god, he's a handsome, rich, artistic, generous, family-loving, funny god."

  "You haven't even met him," I reminded her. "How do you know he's funny?"

  Jen gave her h
ead another toss. "You said so yourself. And anyway, I could just tell." She didn't add a 'so there', but her satisfied grin said it all.

  "And you visited home, right?" She continued. "How did that go?"

  "Enough to make me want to hang myself in my childhood room," I admitted. Although, looking at Jen, I suddenly got an idea. I couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to me before. I guess I had been too distracted thinking about Giovanni and the upcoming party.

  "Jen," I said. "You said I could live with you. I'm here now, and I can’t live with my parents. Even the Giovanni thing I'm a little hesitant about. But if we live together..." I trailed off as Jen's bright smile slowly but surely disappeared.

  "You never followed up on my offer," she said sullenly.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Just," she said. "I just signed the lease over a few days ago. I'm moving into a bachelor in Miami! Believe it or not, it's way cheaper. Snuggles will love it."

  Snuggles was Jen's pug, who, true to his name, loved cuddling as well as sneaking hot dogs out of the fridge.

  "And you didn't think to tell me you were moving?" I said.

  "I'm a bit superstitious," Jen admitted. "It all feels too good to be true."

  "And yet you tell me all about Gino, the guy you met two nights ago and spent two minutes with."

  "It was a good few hours," Jen retorted. "And if you must know, Grandma Beatrice said that keeping your cards close is a sure way to make things you want follow through into your life.”

  "Whatever," I said with a wave of my hand.

  Jen had already moved on and was gripping both of my hands. "Just think—if you and Giovanni admit that you are actually in love, we could go on double dates because I’m here now!"

  I rolled my eyes. "Whoop-di-doo."

  "Seriously, Kandy. What is it about Giovanni that scares you so much?"

  "What makes you think I'm scared of him?" I retorted. "How do you know I'm not just being logical about this?"

  "Pfft," Jen said with a flick of her wrist. "Logic doesn't come anywhere near love."

  I was about to respond that she would know better than anyone, but that would’ve been petty.

  I was triggered though, that was for sure.

  But why? Had Jen inadvertently struck a nerve? Was I scared of Giovanni?

  "He is pretty different than Jin," Jen pointed out. "So passionate, dominant, and..."

  I sat back on my chair and thought it through.

  Even though Jin hadn't been the guy for me, he'd also cheated on me. It was shady. Maybe our relationship had been over, and maybe, when it came down to it, I didn't really care that much. What if the same thing happened with Giovanni? What if the same thing happened with a man I was starting to genuinely care about?

  That was the thing, too. I had no idea where Giovanni stood on any of this. Or if he even had an opinion on it.

  He was so Italian, so passionate. So emotional. One minute I felt like I was his whole world, the next, I felt like an annoying disturbance.

  Jen got up and hooked her arm in mine. "I have an idea."

  "Yeah?" I said. "Does it involve relaxing? Because, right now, the only thing I want to do is lie in a bath of hot water and relax, honestly."

  "You read my mind," Jen said. "I got my new keys, and my new place has a jacuzzi and we can do some of those starfruit kiwi face masks I bought!"

  "Cool," I said, not needing to fake my enthusiasm.

  Anything to distract me from this shit show.

  22

  Giovanni

  This is what I chose to do to take my mind off things.

  I surveyed Eleven's exterior. The purple, muted lights gave everything an aura of debonair sophistication it didn't have. The girls were already grinding against the couches, while those who weren't falling over drunk were busy scanning the other faces in the room, as if judging to see if they were having more fun.

  How could this be one of the good bars, the happening bars? God, it felt like a bar where everything went… Down.

  My libido was quickly plummeting as well.

  My teeth ground together.

  It wasn't the bar, though. It was me. I didn't want to be here, and I'd known that I wouldn't enjoy it and yet I had gone along when James had called and harassed me into coming. It wasn’t just tonight. It was the same whenever I went to any other bars. They all seemed so pointless to me. Maybe I was biased. It was the scene that had first sucked Gino down and hadn't let him out.

  Damn it, I'd been the one to take him, too. I had shown my little brother a good time. I thought it was what big brothers did. So, we'd gotten him a fake ID, gotten him through the door and then... It all began.

  The drinking. The disappearing. The spiraling. The pill popping. The stealing.

  When it came down to it, this was what had done it to him.

  But not even just this. Me.

  I took a long swig of my whiskey, downing most of it, but the burn couldn't get rid of the guilt filling my head.

  That was why I couldn't just let it all go—Gino and his troubles. It was my fault. No matter what anyone said, I was the one who had introduced him to bars, to clubs. I was the one who had introduced him to this life.

  Big brothers were supposed to protect their siblings, and what had I done? Thrown him into the jaws of the beast. I thought I'd been doing him a favor. Ha.

  I had no clue where Gino was now. I'd texted Marley days ago after Gino had called, raving out of the blue. She still hadn't responded. Marley was the most responsible of their group, but that wasn't saying much. Considering they party hopped, pill popped and jetted between festivals all over the world with whatever rich friends they had. She’d picked up in Shanghai, so, the likelihood of her responding soon was low. She probably wouldn’t respond for days, if not weeks.

  My mouth hardened as I threw back the rest of my drink.

  Marley would respond eventually, though. She always did. She had to.

  "Well," James said, slinging himself beside me. "Look who's having the best time out of all of us!"

  I strained a smile at my red-haired, smirk-faced friend. "I told you not to invite me. Just head on back over there to the blonde you're trying to sway—Ms. Reese Witherspoon."

  It obviously wasn't the actual famous actress, but with the girl's round head and straight blonde hair, she was a decent comparison.

  James made a skeptical sound of disappointment. "Normally, I'd be right with you on that one. She's only visiting, though, and she has a husband, over there."

  He indicated at a Viking-sized man in the corner built like a linebacker. His back was turned to us as he waited to get drinks.

  "That's never stopped you before," I pointed out.

  James rubbed his chin. "You know... That's a good point. It would up the ante a bit. A new challenge."

  His thoughtful squint moved to focus on me. "But seriously, are you really going to mope around all night because of some chick when you're surrounded by an endless stream of very attractive other women?" He gestured at the room.

  "It's more than that," I said. "Just the whole situation. It's complicated."

  "Because you're making it that way," James alleged. "Either you two stick to business, or you don't. You bang her, or you don't. It's not rocket science."

  "Thank you, Professor," I said sarcastically. "You know, that really put everything into perspective for me. I can't believe I hadn't thought of that."

  James shrugged. "You know I'm right. Feelings aren't that difficult. You either let them rule you, or you show them who's in charge. At the end of the day, Giovanni, if you let this thing get out of control, it could really get out of control. I’m just trying to look out for you, man."

  I turned to give him a genuinely grateful smile.

  "I know. Thank you. It's just, I'm not used to this. I'm not used to being unsure. Normally, with business—even with girls—it's obvious what the right move is. Not so this time."

  James rubbed at his chin aga
in and shifted the ice in his glass. "So, you're saying this one is different, then—this Kandice?"

  I shook my head and shrugged. "That's the thing. I don't know. I don't know what other explanation there could be for it. But I want to see her again and again. You know what I want to do right now?" I turned to him. "I want to ditch this place. Go to her. Call her. Anything."

  James nodded his head sympathetically. "Yep. You've got it bad, bro."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  To my knowledge, James had never fallen in love. And I meant never. Sure, he'd had his fair share of conquests, but as far as committing to spending more than a few weeks at a time with someone—nope.

  "You faked it until you made it," James said, nodding his ginger head decisively.

  "I... What now?"

  James gave me a hefty pat on the shoulder. "Listen. You fake married this girl, so you had to do all this pretending. Spending time together, stuff you wouldn't normally do. You faked it so much—happiness, contentment, even… Love, that it became real. It's just mind-over-matter. Just stop acting like she's your wife, and then the whole thing will blow over."

  He smiled, clearly satisfied with himself as he chewed on one of his ice cubes.

  Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

  Mind over matter... Hell, James made it sound so easy and yet... Something told me that it wasn't going to be that simple.

  "Come on," James urged me, throwing his arm out at random. It stopped, pointed at a girl with short, jet-black hair and ice blue eyes. "Go on. Talk to her. Let's see if we can't get you to forget Kandice for one night."

  I dutifully followed him over.

  "You look like someone who knows what's good around here," he addressed her. "What drink should we order next?"

  She smiled with painfully white teeth. "I really like the vodka water, actually."

  James paused for a significant moment, then he burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, you've got to be joking."

  "I'm not," she insisted. "It's actually good. If you'd tried it, you'd know."

  "Yeah, no," James said, shaking his head decisively. He patted me on the shoulder. "But my buddy here, Giovanni, who, yes, if you were wondering, is Italian, he might want to." He elbowed me in the gut. "Right, bud?"