Playing Pretend Box Set

by Natasha L. Black

  "Meaning?” I asked.

  "Just what I said," she said, with an easy laugh, "I mean, I'm buying it and I know the truth."

  I studied Kandice's face. "I wasn't putting on a show.”

  Something on Kandice's face flickered, hopeful and bitter, then hopeful again, but she moved her hand out from under mine.

  "Sorry," she said quietly. Her hand on the bench beside me looked so small. I covered it again with mine.

  "Hey," I said softly, "Stop it. Stop saying things like that."

  "They just slip out," she admitted, "We still haven't decided where we stand. What we’re doing. Anyway, that is how this all started—what the point of this party was. A show to convince everyone. Fake."

  "Maybe," I said, "But that doesn't mean that everything I do, every word I say, is fake."

  She said nothing, and I brought her hand to my lips. I rose, not ending the kiss so she was forced to rise with me.

  "Dance with me," I said.

  Her eyes said yes before her lips did. "For real or for show?"

  I smacked her ass, and she giggled as she ran a bit ahead. "You tell me,” I replied. We moved onto the dance floor, and I couldn’t help but lean over and whisper, "Want to know what else is very real now?"

  "You tell me," she quipped.

  I leaned in so that my lips brushed against the small, perfect shell of her ear, and whispered, "My boner."

  We cracked up, although after, her lips stayed parted. Our eyes met, both filled with desire.

  Fuck it. I could almost do it. Take her right here, right now. Even with all my relatives, friends, acquaintances—even business associates all around. Her parents, Jen. All here. I didn't care. I would take her right here, while they all chatted amiably.

  Yeah, that would be one thing that wouldn't be for show. Not at fucking all.

  The song was some sappy Italian one, Dolce Amore Mio, I think. The dance floor was filled with happy, old couples, fumbling half drunkenly along, and the odd overeager young couple, swirling and moving over the floor. They all looked rosy with happiness. I wondered what Kandice and I looked like to them.

  All I knew was that my hands were around her, pressing her body to me tightly, her warmth and buttery scent working like a drug on me.

  Fuck.

  She was so close. Eyes closed, lips parted again, ready for…

  Stay on task, Giovanni.

  The song changed, the new one a faster tempo. I gave Kandice a spin and our dance continued.

  I didn’t want to break contact, not for one second.

  One song after the next played, and while we danced, Gino and Jen joined us, laughing along as Gino did just about every step wrong.

  We danced on and on, as some guests filtered in and out, others bid goodbye, others continued to drink too much alcohol, and others still, disappeared into the starry night sky. We danced even as Mama and Maria said goodbye, laughing and crying at how beautiful we were. We danced as Kandice's parents said a stiff goodbye, Mrs. McArthur’s smile having never fully reached her eyes. We danced, even as finally, the last of the guests filtered out and it was only us and the moonlight and the music.

  Eventually, even the band had to pack up, their gig long done. They had left the music playing on a stereo, but eventually they had to take that as well. I pulled out my phone and put on some random, slow song. I still wasn’t ready to stop. When finally, even Gino and Jen had left, leaving just us two, I looked at her. She looked at me. We knew. This was it.

  We were going to continue the dance. Just not here.

  27

  Kandice

  He held his arms around me, dancing us into the night, and all the way to the shady glen where the bench waited for us still. Set away from any and all possible eyes at this late hour, except the large, impassive, wide-open, shining eye of the moon.

  As we stopped at the bench, another slow song crooning from his phone, we danced some more. We danced, our lips coming together, our clothes coming off. We danced slow, kicking our shoes off, bare feet reveling in the grass. We danced, from standing to laying down.

  This was all part of the dance. Always had been.

  From the very first moment Giovanni had shown up saying, “Sweetheart, there you are,” and sitting down beside me at the bar in Shanghai, saving me from that gross guy.

  It was an ancient dance, one we were called to do, and once again we were reaching its apex.

  Somewhere in the murkiness of feelings, in the rise and fall of my breath, in the thrash and tangle of my emotions, there was how I actually felt about Giovanni, how he actually felt about me. But right now, all I knew was that our lips were joined together, and I didn't want it to ever stop.

  No, the way his hands flowed through my hair, caressing my face, clasping it, pulling it into him as if, even now, kissing me wasn't enough, as if he wanted to conquer me. Claim me, own me, possess my body entirely, completely.

  When his hands finally began their descent, mine did too. He was rock hard. Had been since we'd danced off his boxers. Our bodies continued to move in sync, but there was a slowness to it. A savoring. Every movement was rhythmic, unhurried.

  The song was still crooning away, guiding our movements. The grass underneath my back was cool and slick. Giovanni covered my body entirely with his. I couldn't even move; he'd pinned me down so completely.

  I didn't want to move. Not with the way his stroking hands were caressing me to oblivion. He hadn’t even touched me ‘there’ yet.

  No, but I was as wet as if he'd been stroking me for hours. Wetter. I bet all he'd have to do was flick my clit and I would probably come. God, yes, please.

  Finally, he positioned himself over me, looking at me with an expression that if I hadn't known better was love—or the greatest show of it ever.

  Our bodies flowed together fully, and then we were one. We moved as one, the song now following out beat, the slow methodical pulse in and out, around, and in and out, around again. Together and apart, and more and more. A little bit faster, a little bit deeper. But more. Always more.

  Our foreheads pressed into each other, our pelvises arching together and sliding apart and then, gradually, it started like a slow roar, built up like a tidal wave of pleasure, and then crashed in every direction through me. It overtook me, making me wild, thrash, and cry out.

  I came once. Again.

  He wasn't finished. He'd barely started. He flowed into me, turned me around, drilled into me. Still somehow slow, yet fast, soft, and yet hard.

  And as we exploded together for the final time, he groaned, "I love you. You are mine."

  Then we collapsed together, and everything was darkness.

  I awoke with coolness washing over me. My eyes fluttered open to see...

  Dark. But, not complete darkness. There was a small lump of a sun, at the edge of the horizon, rising and bringing with it some half-hearted murky light.

  There were arms and legs—everything around me was Giovanni. From the contented breathing and the smile on his face, he was replaying last night, a small, sleepy chuckle a testament to that.

  God, last night.

  So much had happened. My parents, showing up out of the blue. Jen and Gino—Gino being Gino—Giovanni's crazy brother! Yeah, Jen and I were definitely going to have to talk to her about that. Maybe I should have made a scene, but I didn't like making scenes. Even if my best friend was in peril of having her next boyfriend be a raging alcoholic. But yeah. I could do damage control today.

  And then... Giovanni, again. More confusion. More craziness. And now?

  I had to admit, I wasn't shocked we'd made love again last night. Or, how incredible it had been. That was basically Giovanni's M.O.—amazing, mind-blowing sex.

  But what about... He'd said he'd loved me. Neither of us had much to drink, and he'd said he'd... Loved me. I didn't know what to think about that. Maybe we were just getting in too deep. Making things too confused. All I knew was that I needed a breather.

  I c
arefully extricated myself from his arms and legs. His smile slackened, almost as if he knew I was leaving him.

  I stood over him like that for one whole uncertain minute. I didn't want to go, but I didn't want to stay either. At least I didn't want to be there when he woke up.

  God. What I wouldn't give right now to know what the right thing to do was.

  I'd heard some quote about nothing being right or wrong, ever. And while I wanted to believe that, there were still some things that made life easier, or harder. Happier, or sadder. Me, giving up everything to work at Rayli? That had been a mistake. Marrying Giovanni had been... I still wasn't sure. Giovanni didn't know either. Things were just getting more and more confused, messy even, the more we dug our heels in and kept at this—whatever ‘this’ was.

  I pulled on my clothes, still keeping my gaze on his sleeping form. Yeah, standing there and staring at Giovanni wouldn't help me figure anything out. If there was one thing I'd learned about my problems, it was that, as reassuring as thinking them over was for me, it often didn't do me much practical good. All it did was set in motion the energizer bunny of worry that waited in my chest for the next potential catastrophe.

  No. What I needed to do was go talk to Jen. Hopefully talk sense into her, and hopefully she could talk some sense into me. Whatever sense was in this case.

  Before I left, I draped Giovanni's boxers over his hips. I'd decided that once I'd snuck a good distance away from the Bruno estate and back to the road, I'd text him and wake him up. If there was one thing that would make for a weird or bad day, it would be being found naked, on your parent’s property, fast asleep.

  I ended up having to run like a crazy burglar across some random red-haired family’s lawn as they all watched in half-delight, half dismay through their floor to ceiling panoramic kitchen window as I tried to avoid their terriers. But I made it to the road, and my waiting taxi, without further issue. Once inside the taxi, I called Jen.

  "I was just going to call you," she said, "Now... I know you are going to try and reason with me, but I warn you that I really like this guy. I cannot be reasoned with. But I would go for some brekky at Las Olas Cafe. See you there?"

  "Yes, Jennifer," I said.

  "Don't use that name with me," Jen said. "I saw Grandma Beatrice what, a week or two ago? I don't need to hear any more lectures, thank you very much."

  "Whatever," I said, "See ya."

  Las Olas Cafe was just as bright and sunny as the day outside. It made me annoyed that I wasn’t happier.

  But how could I be when my situation with Giovanni could be best described as a towering, fuzzy question mark? One that only seemed to grow the further we got in.

  At any rate, Las Olas had their grey blinds thrown open so the sunny vista of the many treed outdoors made its way inside amidst the abstract art and long-bladed red fans that matched the red seats.

  Jen was waiting for me already with pancakes and a shit-eating grin. She was wearing her lemon dress again.

  "Don't mention the dress," she said tersely, "As far as I’m concerned, I'll wear it every day if I please. This has been just too good of a week!"

  "Jen," I said.

  "I ordered us banana chocolate chip pancakes," she plundered ahead, disregarding my attempt to talk. "And, if you are going to sit there and lecture me, then yes, I will eat them all by myself and feel no shame whatsoever for it."

  "Be my guest." Uncertainty didn't agree with me or my stomach. The only thing I felt like eating right now were my words when I'd agreed with Giovanni that this fake marriage was a doable idea.

  I took one banana chocolate chip pancake for safekeeping, then began, "Jen, you know I love and respect you, and your decision but—"

  "I know it's risky,” Jen cut in. “Gino has been in and out of rehab since... I don't know. I know he's done a ton of shitty stuff, obviously he hasn't told me everything yet, we're still new. But I already know he's a risk, Kandice. I don't need you to tell me that."

  "Okay," I said. "But... What Giovanni told me about Gino, before either of us came into the picture, he's been like this since he was sixteen. Even if he is serious about you, Jen, that is a long time."

  “People can change," Jen said definitively.

  "I know," I said, "And I believe that, and I even believe that he means it."

  It was true. I may not have had an eye for a lot of things, but I'd like to think I had an eye for the truth, and when people were into each other. I could tell Gino genuinely liked Jen. I'd seen that yesterday. But still.

  "Sometimes people don't have a choice in these situations," I continued. "It's a battle they have to fight for the rest of their lives. Relapses are super common. I mean, you said Gino is what? Five days sober? But what is he doing to keep that up? Is he going to A.A. meetings?"

  "Check." Jen had a smug look on her face.

  "And what about alcohol in the house, going to bars, and..."

  "No alcohol in the house," Jen chimed. "And he doesn't go to bars."

  "Okay," I said, "Just. I don't know. I'm worried about you. He really seems like a great guy, but I don't know. Giovanni is a pretty optimistic guy and even he had lost hope for Gino."

  Jen finished chewing her banana chocolate pancake thoughtfully. "I know how this is going to sound," she said, "but the only way I can explain it is that I know. I know this is it. Gino is my guy. I don't know how to explain it to you, except that even though it doesn't make sense, even though it's unlikely, even though no one else believes me, I do. Maybe it won't be a straight road to his sobriety, but I don't think he'll relapse. Not bad, anyway. I think we're going to make it, Kandice."

  Her certainty galled me into silence. Annoyance, then rage, then sadness flickered into me like dominos falling.

  Damn. Jen had just met Gino and yet... She knew? She'd always been an optimist, but she'd never given me a speech like this about any of her other dubious boyfriends.

  Why should she be so damn certain about Gino when she'd known him for less time than I'd known Giovanni?

  Then again, there were the circumstances of them getting together. It had started out genuine from the start. While Giovanni and I may have had that chance, the fake marriage definitely ruled it continuing normally out.

  "I think it is the same for you and Giovanni," Jen continued, as if she had access to my mind. “Like last night—"

  "Before you say that—" I cut her off.

  "I know, I know," Jen said, cutting me off as she held up a hand. "Part of it was probably for show, you're right. But Kandice, I think he likes you, and I know you like him. Why not just talk about it? Come on, you guys danced for like hours.”

  Before I could stop it, the quiet words slipped out of my lips. "Last night while making love... He said he loved me."

  "Oh man," Jen said, smacking her hand on the table so loudly, two elderly women with matching violet perms peered over their moon-spectacles at us, scandalized. "I knew it!"

  "Still," I said. "It was in the heat of the moment, maybe he just—"

  Jen snorted, "Yeah, when I'm in the heat of the moment I just blurt out that I love people too."

  "Ugh, shut up please," I said.

  Jen blew me a kiss, "Don't hate me because I'm right."

  "I hate you because you’re annoying," I said, taking a savage bite out of my banana chocolate chip pancake, then, thinking better of it, grabbed one from the stack on her plate and bit into that too.

  "Anyway..." Jen said, eyeing me and my rabid eating, "After this, I was thinking we could go shopping."

  I eyed her suspiciously.

  Why did I feel like there was more to this than she was letting on?

  "I mean, as Giovanni's beloved wife, you'll probably need a lot of new sexy dresses for date nights!"

  She smiled evilly and I just folded my pancake in half and, taking it in my hand, took a giant bite. Mainly so that Jen couldn't see that I was smiling.

  Damn it, this would all be easier if every day I wasn't growing
more and more sure about how I felt about Giovanni. How I cared for him.

  28

  Giovanni

  I awoke to a beep.

  It was a text from Kandice. Hey, had to go. You might want to get up.

  Shit. I was outside, naked, with boxers draped on me. Yep, I definitely wanted to get up.

  And last night…

  The party had gone off well. Even better than I had hoped for. Kandice and I had danced. And danced. And danced. And made love. And I'd said…

  Fuck.

  I'd fucking said it, hadn’t I?

  I put on my clothes sullenly.

  That must have been why she left without waking me. It freaked her out too.

  Better not to think about it now. It had slipped out, so what? Like an impulse. These things happen sometimes. Things get said...

  Inside the kitchen, Gino was eating a bowl of Kraft Dinner and offered me some. "Dude. You look like shit."

  "Coming from the recovering alcoholic, that's real rich." I said.

  Gino made a fake wince face. "Ow. Too soon bro."

  I took a spoonful of Kraft Dinner, enjoying the cheesy goodness in my mouth.

  "Want to play video games?" Gino asked.

  The ordinariness of this conversation threw me back what seemed like ten years ago. Like Gino was sixteen again and we were up before our parents because they’d stayed up late entertaining guests, and Maria was sleeping in late same as always.

  And all this change over a woman? At any rate, while there were a million and one things I should be doing instead of playing video games with my little brother, it had been too long.

  "Sure," I said.

  "You won't believe it," Gino said as we wandered into the bottom rec room that had always been our little den, "But Papa and Mama went through a temporary bout of insanity and gave away all my good games. All I have left is Mario Kart."

  "You just hated Mario Kart because I always won."

  "You always won, because Mario Kart is stupid," Gino argued, grinning.

  "Yeah, yeah," I said. "Let's watch you lose again, little brother."