Pretending to be Rich

by Parker, Weston

  We walked in, got our assignments, helped with the setup, and stood in line with the other servers, ready to keep the glasses full and the guests happy. Guests had been filtering in for the last several minutes. The real stars would come in fashionably late.

  “Go time,” Lola whispered close to my ear.

  “Behave yourself,” I warned.

  “Oh girl, you know I won’t,” she teased, stepping out of line to grab one of the trays with full champagne glasses on it.

  I knew she wouldn’t. I grabbed my own tray, pasted on my smile, and moved into the growing crowd. Lola, my skinny friend, danced through the crowd, spinning through people with practiced skill. I did not have the same skill. My hips—child-bearing hips my mother often called them—did not allow me to move with quite as much grace. I would knock someone on their ass if I tried to do what she did.

  I was at the bar, getting a fresh set of full glasses, when Lola came to stand beside me. “Guess what?” she asked, bouncing up and down.

  I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. You got a date?”

  “Yes, but not just me,” she said, her grin wide and mischievous.

  I shook my head. “Don’t say it.”

  “Come on. He asked if I had a friend or two, and I told him I did. He’s rich and funny.”

  “Who?” I asked, knowing I would regret it.

  She nodded to her left. I turned to look and scowled when I looked back at her. “The old guy?” I whispered.

  “He’s not that old.”

  I glanced over again. “He’s got to be at least sixty.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t make his money any less valuable.”

  “It makes it icky. Just him? He wants both of us?” I found the very idea shocking.

  “Yes.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. “He’s twice my age! More than twice! I’m twenty-six. I bet he’s sixty-six.”

  She shrugged. “You can’t get hung up on the age thing. You just have to kind of pretend he’s younger.”

  “I don’t have that kind of an imagination.”

  “Your loss. Think about it.” She took her tray and headed back toward the crowd.

  “Not for all the money in the world,” I said loudly.

  I kept a close eye on her most of the night. The old guy was practically following her around. It was a little gross, but like usual, Lola loved the attention. She was practically glowing from it.

  We got along because, in many ways, we were alike. Neither of us were relationship material. The difference between us was she was running through as many men as she could. It was like she was running from relationships by running into every open pair of arms she could.

  I was taking the opposite approach. I was keeping all men at arm’s length.

  Toward the end of the night, we were cleaning up in the back. Most of the guests were on their way out. I moved into the lobby to pick up more empties when I spotted Lola in the corner. She was giggling and openly flirting with her silver fox. He wasn’t exactly a fox, but he wasn’t horrible—for an old guy. I wasn’t going to bother telling her to quit flirting and help.

  I carried the glasses to the kitchen and gave them to the dishwasher. I was so glad I had gotten rid of the empty glasses. Lola ran up behind me and slapped my ass.

  “Dammit!” I exclaimed, spinning around to glare at her. “You’re damn lucky I put those glasses down.”

  “Sorry! Come on. Last chance to come along for a fun night.”

  “No, it isn’t happening.”

  “Okay, well, I’m leaving,” she said.

  “No, don’t leave with him. You don’t know him. He could be a crazy man. A murderer. You can’t keep putting yourself at risk.” I knew damn well she wasn’t going to listen. She never did.

  “Eliana, you never know who the right man is until you are alone with him,” she said. “I’ve been talking to him all night. He seems safe enough.”

  “I’m sure all the girls who’ve been victims of some horrible act of violence or other awful crime said the exact same thing. The exact words.”

  “Will you cover for me?” she asked, completely ignoring what I had been saying. It was so typical of her.

  “Lola,” I protested.

  “Please. I’m going now, or I’m going in an hour when we’re done cleaning up, but we both know I’m going.”

  I nodded. “Yes, we do.”

  “So, will you?” she asked.

  I groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Yes. Will you please be careful? Seriously, this is very risky behavior, and it really scares me.”

  “I’ll be fine, thanks,” she said, leaning forward and giving me a kiss on the cheek before rushing away.

  I watched her walk out with the man. I committed his height, general build, and every little detail I could about him to memory. Just in case.

  I dreaded what could happen. She lived fast and loose. Sometimes, I wished she would find a man to settle down with. She needed a man to ground her.

  It wasn’t going to happen. Just like I wasn’t going to get myself saddled with a man. Relationships were messy and painful, and when there was a choice to be miserable or be happy, I was always going to go with the latter.

  I wanted to be happy and carefree.

  I moved to grab more glasses, wanting to get done so I could get home and off my feet. With Lola escaping early, it meant I had to work double time to make that happen. By the time, I finished for the night, it was after eleven.

  I didn’t mind walking home alone at night, not usually. It felt safe enough. I had lived in Heraklion for most of my life. I knew enough people around town that I felt like I had plenty of people looking out for me.

  I walked up the stairs to my apartment that was a tiny bit bigger than the closets I had seen on American television. It worked for me. I didn’t need a lot. I could get by with very little.

  I dropped my purse on my small dining table and walked to the fridge, grabbing a cold beer, using the bottle opener to pop the top, and taking a long swig. Sometimes, I just needed a cold drink.

  I kicked off my shoes, carried the beer to my small couch, and flopped down, not bothering to turn on any lights. It was my usual routine. It was how I unwound after a long day at work.

  I stared at the blank wall. I often sat alone at night, thinking about my choices in life. Could I have made different choices? Could I be coming home to a loving husband or boyfriend instead of sitting alone in the dark?

  I used to think there was a chance I had overcome all the baggage from my youth and could have a real, adult relationship. Then, I did the relationship thing. At least, I thought I did, but as it turned out, I sucked at the whole being a girlfriend thing. It ended and that was that.

  I hadn’t dared trying again. I didn’t like the breaking up. It sucked. It hurt. It made me feel miserable. I didn’t particularly enjoy feeling down or icky.

  I stayed in a comfortable neutral zone. No major ups and no major downs.

  Nice and comfy.

  Chapter 3

  Cade

  The restaurant was one of the best in the city, but the décor and location left a little something to be desired. I wasn’t the kind of man who dined at places that tourists on holiday looking for authentic Greek cuisine ate at. Especially places with prices that could make anyone go broke if they ate at the place more than once a year. This was one of those places.

  It was off the beaten path, but it was trendy as hell. Tourists flocked to it because it was cool. My dad wasn’t a tourist, but I was sure he’d chosen the place because it was one of the most expensive. Only the best for him.

  It didn’t take me more than a few seconds to spot my father. He wasn’t a man that went unnoticed. He was sitting at a table near the center of the small dining area, holding his fucking glasses in front of his eyes instead of just putting the damn things on.

  I hated that. It was like he was too good to wear glasses. He couldn’t read without them. I didn’t understand why he
wouldn’t just put the stupid things on.

  I bit back my immediate irritation at seeing him. It was just my natural response to him. Seeing him brought up a lot of unpleasant memories. Unpleasant and sad and disappointing.

  I hated that we couldn’t have a relationship, but I had tried for many years.

  He didn’t want me as a son, and there wasn’t shit I could do about that. I debated backing out and pretending I didn’t see him. The idea of running was appealing. I stared at him for several long seconds and let out a sigh. I couldn’t. I was a fucking coward.

  I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and moved toward his table, pausing at the edge and waiting for him to look up. I knew he knew I was standing there. He was just making me wait. He was showing me he was the one in control.

  After ten seconds, he finally deigned to acknowledge me. He put the glasses down on the newspaper he was reading and looked up at me. His dark eyes scrutinized me.

  He looked older than I remembered, like he hadn’t slept well in years. He was still the short, trim man I remembered with his perfect Italian suit tailored to his body. I hadn’t seen him in well over a year, not since I had changed my eating habits. I knew I looked different. I waited for him to say something about my weight loss.

  “Sit.” He gestured to the empty chair.

  “Good to see you too,” I quipped, not hiding my sarcasm.

  I sat down in the chair, making a big show about scooting it closer to the table. I knew it pissed him off. It was loud and ungraceful, everything my father hated about me.

  “You’re late,” he grunted.

  “I’m not.”

  He harrumphed, obviously not appreciating my arguing. It took very little to piss off my dad. I couldn’t resist the occasional one-liners. It was like poking a bear from a short distance.

  A waiter approached the table. I ordered a whiskey. I needed a drink to get through the next fifteen minutes. I didn’t expect dinner to last much longer than that. It never did. Dinner was code for, he needed to bitch at me for ten minutes.

  “An old friend has invited us to a benefit dinner on Saturday night,” he said. “You will go.”

  “I have plans.”

  “Cancel them,” he said, his English still holding the Italian accent. “This is for an old friend. Your mother will be flying into town tomorrow. We will all go.”

  I knew it was pointless to argue. “I don’t understand why my attendance is needed. No one knows me. I have nothing to offer.”

  He scoffed. “No one knows you because you choose to hide yourself in that little shop. He specifically asked for you to go. You will go. You will not disrespect him and reject his invitation. I won’t stand for it. He wants to see you.”

  That surprised me. “Really? That’s odd. I haven’t seen any of your friends in a very long time. Even when you lived here, I didn’t really spend time with them.”

  He wasn’t impressed. “We owe the family. They were some of the first people to welcome us to Greece. This is one thing you can do for him.”

  “I hope he isn’t expecting me to pay a lot of money for a plate of food I won’t eat,” I said with a chuckle.

  He glared at me. “I’ve covered the cost of the ticket.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I muttered, knowing I was only making the situation worse.

  The waiter came back. I ordered grilled fish, and my father ordered pasta. He was in Greece and ordered pasta from a restaurant that specialized in Greek cuisine. I wanted to bury my face in my hands. His arrogance when he ordered the pasta made it so much worse.

  “He’d like to see the man you’ve become,” my father said, barely able to control the lip curl, indicating his disgust.

  “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve become less of a man,” I said. “Well, not less of a man, but less of a physical man.”

  He was staring at me with that familiar bland expression. It was the same expression I had been looking at for more than twenty years. It said I bored him and disappointed him and he wished he had a son that was more interested in the family business and making the family wealthier.

  I didn’t look like any of those things because I wasn’t. I hadn’t relied on my dad’s money for a very long time. If he would have offered me help, which he didn’t, I would have rejected it. I didn’t want him to own me.

  “Your mother and I want to make sure you know how to behave,” he said, not looking at me. “We will not tolerate you making a fool out of us.”

  “Don’t fart or belch, got it,” I said with a nod before taking a long drink.

  He looked at me, shaking his head. “Is everything funny to you?”

  “Is nothing funny to you?” I shot back.

  “This is important to us,” he said. “We haven’t been back here for a long time. I won’t tolerate you making an ass out of yourself and us. Behave. Act like we taught you.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Dad, I’ve been on my own a long time. I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m not a clown. I know how to behave myself. It’s a little disappointing that you question my ability to perform like I was trained.”

  “Do not cry about your upbringing. You had everything you ever wanted.”

  I bit my tongue. I wanted to tell him I was missing the one thing that was always right in front of me but out of my reach. He was never the dad that showed up to any of my football games or cricket matches. He was always too busy. Always too something.

  I wasn’t necessarily going to blame him for my weight issues, but his lack of support had left me empty and needy. The cheeseburgers and meatball subs had a way of filling the emptiness.

  “I’ll be there,” I said, knowing it was futile to argue. “When and where?”

  “Seven,” he stated firmly. “Do not be late. I will not tolerate tardiness.”

  I nodded. “I said I’ll be there.”

  I skipped the jokes. It wasn’t fun to deliver great jokes to an audience that hadn’t laughed in twenty years. He was always so serious. Maybe his ridiculous need to be serious all the time was what made me so damn goofy.

  Our meals were delivered. He picked up his fork and ate, hardly saying a word. He was eating because he needed the food. There was nothing casual or friendly about our meal. It would have been a more relaxed meal in a high-security prison.

  “No talk about that ridiculous poor man’s gelato shop,” he said, putting his napkin on his plate, indicating he was finished.

  Eating with my dad was like eating with the queen of England. When he put his napkin on the plate, the meal was over. Fuck that. I wasn’t done. It was damn good fish, it fit in my healthy eating plan, and I was going to eat it until I said I was done.

  I took another bite, purposely looking at him while I did so. “I suppose I could talk about my dog,” I said, shrugging a shoulder.

  “No jokes,” he said sternly. “You joke too much.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I mean it,” he warned. “This is a big deal. Important people will be there. I will not tolerate you embarrassing me or your mother.”

  “I heard you the first time. I know the drill. Smile, nod, and don’t speak any more than a couple words. No jokes and no mentioning the—I’m sorry, what did you call it?”

  “The gelato shop,” he spat. “I will not have my friends knowing my son scoops ice cream for a living.”

  I nodded. “That’s right. The poor man’s gelato shop.”

  He put up his hand, signaling for the check. He quickly paid and got to his feet, looking down at me. It looked as if he was going to say something, but he only gave me a swift nod before walking out of the restaurant without another word.

  I shook my head, not surprised by his swift exit. I took another bite of the fish. I was going to eat every damn bite of it.

  When I was finished, I got up and moved toward the exit.

  “Excuse me, sir,” someone called out.

  I stopped and looked around, not sure if they were talking
to me or someone else. The waiter was quickly walking toward me, waving the ticket in his hand.

  “Do you need something?” I asked, wondering if he was actually going to chase me down for a bigger tip.

  “Yes, the check hasn’t been paid in full,” he said.

  I snatched it from his hand and realized my dad had paid for his meal alone. I grinned. Sneaky son of a bitch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  I pulled my wallet from pocket and extracted a credit card. I quickly took care of my portion of the bill and walked out of the restaurant.

  The man never ceased to amaze me. He always made me feel like an enemy of the state. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what I had done that disappointed him so badly. I had gotten good grades and had been a relatively good kid, but I never managed to make him proud.

  I had given up trying a long time ago. At some point, I realized it was too much energy wasted, and it just brought me down. Being sad sucked. I liked being the jolly fat guy. Or just the jolly guy in general, since I wasn’t fat anymore.

  I walked to my car and drove home to my modest house. My dad had never been to my house. Hell, I didn’t even know if he knew I owned a home. In his mind, I was living hand to mouth with barely enough food to eat.

  As with everything else, I had quit trying to impress him with my success. It would never be what his idea of success was. It would never be the kind of wealth he had, and I didn’t care.

  I didn’t want it.

  Chapter 4

  Eliana

  I finished the last of my dishes, tossed the towel on the small single counter in the kitchen, and moved to the living room to tidy up. Having a small place meant it took very little effort to clean up, but on the other hand, it could look very messy with just a few things out of place.

  I was a minimalist and avoided collections of anything. I had no trinkets or family pictures lining the walls or surfaces. I had a few vases and my one piece of art I had picked up at a flea market and not much else.