Faking It (UnReal #1)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  We both sigh. We’ve been going down memory lane for hours. “So, I know we’re having a good time here, but do you want to talk about it?”

  “No,” I state very quickly.

  “Okay. I just think that maybe we should possibly address the small issue,” she says trying not to laugh.

  “That what, you got to finally see me naked?” I ask, fighting not to laugh myself.

  “Come on I’ve seen you naked plenty of times. I mistake your apartment for a nudist colony half the times I’m over here.” She laughs. I mean it’s kinda true. I do hate clothes and who wouldn’t just rock this body?

  “So listen. You don’t have to talk about that. But I think it would help to let some of it out. Was that you and Hunter in the Engineer room?” she asks.

  I nod and go back to the lip quivering thinking about him.

  “Okay okay. So from your reaction I am going to assume you were not filled in about the special event?” I just nod again.

  “Great okay. Then I will conclude that that awful French bitch was the wife or soon to be ex-wife.”

  Last final nod before I throw my face into my hands and begin to sob. “I’m sorry honey I don’t want to make you upset again I just want to understand.”

  Well so do I. How could Hunter do that to me? How could he expose me like that? Trick me? Make me feel so vulnerable and then use me? My heart hurts thinking about how much he has betrayed me.

  “Lexi?” Chrissy’s voice brings me back. I pull my soaked hands away from my face.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then it will all work itself out.”

  I stare into her honest eyes and nod. Because I can’t say any more and I hope it’s true.

  Three days later.

  THE BANGING IN MY head will just not stop.

  “Lexi.”

  God, neither will the voices. I groan as I turn on my side, the hard surface doing wonders for my alignment. Not.

  “Lexi, the door.”

  There it is again. I literally rip my eyes open and realize I’m on the floor of my living room and Chrissy is right next to me. “Huh?” I croak, trying to figure out why we’re on the floor and why my head feels like it’s about to explode and run off. Then I remember another night repeat of wine and tequila consumption.

  “The door. Someone is banging on it. And personally I hope they bang it down soon so at least there won’t be anything to bang on.” Just then the banging sounds again. I throw my hands over my ears.

  “Oh my God, someone needs to stop that.” I groan, the rattling in my brain intensifying.

  “Agreed. Go get your shot gun.”

  “I don’t own a shot gun,” I reply back.

  “That’s a shame,” she says and rolls onto her stomach.

  Again the banging goes off which gives me the motivation to get up. “Oh, stop banging!” I yell toward the door as I hunch over, practically crawling to it. It’s been a solid and miserable three days since that blow out at the gallery. Three days since I saw Hunter and seventy-two hours since I told him to stay away from me. And the saddest thing is, he has. Apparently for Hunter, when you tell him to stay away he does exactly that.

  So much for Chrissy’s shitty advice because Hunter had gone back to being a ghost. A small part of me admits I wish I had it out with him that night. Maybe gotten some closure so I wouldn’t feel so lost. Or confused. I mean, I tell Hannah to leave me alone all the time, but it doesn’t mean she listens. I told Chrissy to leave the next day and that I’d be fine. But she has stayed by my side like a damn suction cup.

  Every time I get down about it all, I make sure to remember why I spit out those four words in the first place. And it’s because no matter what, the past doesn’t change that I may have still only been just a muse to him. I may have never been the one for him. And it kills me inside a little bit each time to think that maybe Victoria had been right.

  “Jesus! Unless someone is dying or something this better be important.” I make it to the door and close an eye to investigate out my peep hole.

  “Shit,” I blow out, seeing Cornelius on the other side. Shit shit shit. I’ve managed to completely make myself scarce from work ever since, not really caring to face my boss and get his feedback on how well the showing did not do.

  “Hey,” I whisper loudly to Chrissy, “Dude it’s Cornelius. What do I do?”

  “Open the door and shoot him. Then come lay back down.” She mumbles into the floor.

  I huff knowing that’s not possible. Again, I don’t have a gun. I give up and open the door.

  “Hey Corn, sorry, I was just—”

  “Jesus woman you are impossible to get ahold of.” He hurriedly enters my suite.

  “Yeah sorry about that. Um… are you here to fire me or something?” I ask because right about now I don’t really care. I need him to beat it so I can take a saw to my brain or go back to sleep.

  “No…” He pauses to— Did he just smell me? “Jesus woman are you bathing in tequila now? I thought that was just Chrissy’s thing.”

  A shoe is suddenly tossed across the room as we both dodge it.

  “And good morning to you too, my ex best employee,” Cornelius grumbles as Chrissy follows up with a grunt and throws a blanket over her face.

  “So are you here to rate me on smell or fire me?” Let’s move this along.

  “No, even though I should since you’ve decided to take a hiatus from the gallery for the last few days, I still need you.”

  Ahhh, Cornelius does have a heart!

  “Don’t let it go to your head. The only reason I’m here is because you keep dodging my calls and I need you on a special showing.”

  “Ehhh, I’m not really sure I’m ready to come back, Corn. I mean this whole flu and all.” I fib because in some countries flu and three-day hangover probably mean the same thing.

  “Too bad. You are the only one who can do it. Plus, if you don’t I will personally fire you.”

  I gasp while another shoe goes flying.

  “You wouldn’t fire me. Wait… Would you?”

  “Yes, I would. Now here are the details. The showing is practically set up. You can thank Hannah for that. All you need to do is show up, look presentable and woo the client.”

  Cornelius hands me a folder and an invitation falls to the ground. I reach for it as the smooth paper skims my fingers tips.

  I open it to see that the details are general. Probably because Hannah did it. I turn it over to view the signature imprint of the artist and I don’t recognize the name.

  “Who is it?”

  “A new artist. And right about now I don’t care. After the fiasco last week, we need the business. All the information is in the folder. Don’t mess this up or I will really fire you.”

  He turns to leave before turning back “And Chrissy, I miss you too.”

  While I hear Chrissy grumble how she misses Cornelius too from under her covers, he sees himself out.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit shit.

  As they say, it’s back to the mines I go. I guess I can at least thank Cornelius for giving me a few days’ heads up about the showing because it took that long to fully sober up and get my brain to function properly again. Chrissy left the night of Cornelius’s visit. After listening to her goo goo talk with Ian, I practically kicked her out of my place. Seriously, if I wasn’t already going to barf from withdrawal issues, it was going to be from listening to their love talk. Yep. Not my thing anymore.

  I head toward my closet and try to pick something appealing. Something that says business in the front, and sexy in the back. A nice form fitting teal dress with a high neckline and a very low backline. I’ve only been binging on olives lately, so the dress isn’t too snug and I slip easily into it and compliment it with a black pair of Manolos. I take a good look in my mirror to investigate the finished product.

  It’s then I begin to see images and reminders. Me
mories. Flashbacks of the last time I stood in this mirror wanting to look good.

  For him.

  “Don’t you dare!” I scold myself. I will not give him another tear. I won’t give any man another tear. New Leaf was fired shortly after my emotional misunderstanding. Or breakdown. Either way. Fired. Kicked out. No longer welcomed in this life

  Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, shame on everyone else who gets caught in my wrath. I was never going back to that weak girl who fell for men’s bullshit. Changes were being made in the life of the new Lexi Hall. She certainly wasn’t going to fall for sappy bullshit nor was she ever bothering with the opposite sex at all.

  I’m even thinking about testing out the other team! Because men? ACK!

  I whip my head, turning away from the mirror. I take my dress and rip it off, refusing to give anyone a visual thrill. This client is getting slacks. And a goddamn turtleneck! I kick off my heels, sadly knocking one into my lamp and shattering it.

  Dammit. I got that on a ski trip in Venice.

  I huff in defeat and finish my tirade while scrounging for something more suitable. I just want my life to go back to normal. I want to act like a human being and not such a bitter Betty. Because she is not very pretty and it’s quite tiring to be honest.

  I WALK INTO THE GALLERY, my heels clicking down the dimly lit marble hallway. It’s not unusual that the gallery is set to dim lighting, because most artists approve it. The whole let’s set the mood kinda thing. I make my way to the receptionist podium, when I notice it is completely dead.

  “Hannah?” I call out, wondering where the hell she is. I probably should have come in earlier to help with the final touches for the showing. Not sure why I trusted Hannah to do anything. I drop my purse on the podium and head down the hallway toward the main gallery.

  The closer I get, the slower I begin to walk.

  Something seems off.

  The lights are too dim.

  And it is way too quiet in here.

  I turn the corner when I spot the first lit candle. A tea light shimmers along the unlit walls, leaving an amber glow in its wake.

  I stare at the scene before me. The entire gallery hallway is aligned with glowing lights. What is going on here? Assistant or not, I know Hannah has at least passed Fire Hazard 101. A loud huff grumbles up my throat. Fired. Fired, fired, fired! I mumble as I walk through the hallway counting candle after fire hazardous candle.

  “Hannah! I hope you enjoy your last day here,” I announce out loud as I make it to the end of the hallway. I look at my watch. It’s going to take me forever to blow out all these candles, and reset the timers on the lights, and I don’t want to even go into the damn smell it’s going to—”

  I trail off, my tongue suddenly lodged in my throat. I make my final turn into the opening of the main room, when I am assaulted by a room filled with an array of pink and purple flowers accompanied by more lights.

  “What the…?” I whisper out loud in confusion, my heart now pounding like crazy in my chest.

  With every step closer I take my feet become heavier and heavier. I follow the path that takes me into the center of the room. I survey the area, my body turning in circles catching bare wall after bare wall. Trying to understand, I halt my eyes, locking them on the only object in the room.

  One single freestanding easel. A white cloth disguising what looks to be a painting.

  I squeeze my hands as they begin to tremble. My brain pushes me to go and reveal what is hiding underneath, but my feet are like lead. I can’t seem to move. The image of myself possibly naked behind that screen halts me in my place. Time slows as I’m frozen staring at the covered canvas. The internal battle eats at me before I find the courage to throw myself into action and grab for the sheet.

  As the cloth sheds away from the canvas and down to the floor, my eyes begin to take focus of a portrait.

  Of me.

  My sharp intake of breath almost chokes me as I cover my mouth with my shaky hand.

  Staring back at me is a portrait of myself, deep in sleep. The bedding surrounding me tells me it’s from our night in Vegas. My unruly hair is wild and partially matted to my face. My lips are slightly parted and he managed to capture the flush of my cheeks perfectly. Inspecting the painting closer, I view a small tint of… is that drool? I choke out a laugh. I look so normal. Peaceful. A moment in which I’m not forcing myself to be someone I’m not. I think the part that really catches my breath is that I am sporting a small smile in my sleep. Oh Hunter.

  A small distraction catches my eye when I see a small envelope tucked in the lower corner of the canvas. And it is addressed to me. I step forward and place the crisp paper in my unsteady hand. Brushing my thumb over my hand written name. Hunter’s very distinguished handwriting.

  One deep breath and I open the note.

  Lexi,

  You may never read this letter because I'm not sure you will even show tonight. I know you must hate me. And I deserve it.

  I lead my life very closed off because I didn’t want anyone to take advantage of me again. I accepted my private life for what it was, and for what it would forever be. Until you. Until you walked into my life.

  You were an enigma for me. A dream almost. A miracle that let me believe I deserved something other than the seclusion. Was it to trust again? Open myself up to another? I'm not sure, but it allowed me one thing. To love. An emotion I never knew nor thought I would feel.

  I knew you were scared of what was happening between us. And I might have never admitted it to you, but I was scared out of my mind. You did something to me. Made me feel things I was so unfamiliar with. While you slept at night I laid there staring at you. Wondering if you were real. If one day I would wake up and you would be gone.

  And that scared me more than love. It scared me to think that at any point you would not be next to me. It was in those short nights we had together that I knew. You were mine. Meant for me. My heart was beating only for you.

  I love you, Lexi Hall, and if you choose to never speak to me again, I understand. But I want you to know that you were never just a muse to me. You were my light. My color. And my vision of a brighter tomorrow. One that I could actually have. I’ve always heard people talk about having a reason to wake up in the morning and I finally understand it. I can’t see past tomorrow without you. I hope this painting allows you to understand how I really see you. For you. For the real beautiful Lexi who I fell head first in love with.

  -Hunter

  The last of the letter is read in a fog. My eyelids are pouring over with tears. I cradle the piece of paper to my chest, and close my eyes.

  A feeling so strong hits me. He didn’t give up on me. I’m not sure if I choke on a laugh or sob. This love is seriously some insane shit. I hear sounds coming from the entryway. He’s here. The smile appears on my face instantly.

  “Hunter,” I whisper as I go to him. More like run. God I need to kiss him, and probably really apologize for not being a better player in this game of love. Because God, I love him. I do. Lexi Hall is whole heartedly in love! I begin to run because the space between us is too much for me.

  “Hunter?” I call for him louder now, so he can hear me. I turn the corner, the smile infectious on my face. Cornelius cuts me off, catching me as I almost knock him over.

  “Corn? What? What are you doing here? Is Hunter here?” I look over his shoulder.

  “No, Lexi. I’m so sorry. But there’s been an accident.”

  PEOPLE TELL YOU ALL the time to enjoy the time you have, because you never know when it will end. You never know when one day someone you love will be taken from you for any sort of selfish reason. You wonder how could this happen to you, or why did that person deserve to die. It’s the normal way the brain works. Some people pray to God for help and some go on rampages asking the world why?

  You sit and remember the last thing you said to them and most likely it was something horrible. The last thing I said to Hunter was to stay away
from me.

  Cornelius explained to me that Hunter vowed never to give up on us. He was willing to fight to win me back. He even gave Cornelius his infamous line. “She’s my tomorrow.” He, along with the rest of the staff set up everything to give Hunter the fighting chance they thought he deserved to win me back. Hunter never made it to the gallery that night. Shortly after leaving his hotel to come for me, he was struck by a vehicle that lost control and jumped onto the sidewalk striking him.

  I shook uncontrollably while Cornelius explained that he’d received a call from the hospital. He was the last point of contact in Hunter’s phone, so they had redialed to alert someone of the accident.

  All this time, I sat in my hole and convinced myself that he didn’t care about me. That the feelings that were so strong they were practically suffocating me, were all a lie. All while he was trying to find a way to win me back. The selfishness in me makes me hate myself. I may have been angry but I never gave him a chance. I never gave us a chance. This whole time I hated on Hunter, when it was I who made the choice to say goodbye to us.

  Hunter was coming for me. He was coming to win me back. But he never came. The last bit of information that Cornelius was able to offer was that Hunter was calling for me.

  The sickness I feel inside is nothing compared to heartache. This is much worse.

  I’ve been sitting in the waiting room, along with Hannah and Cornelius while we wait for Hunter to get out of his second surgery. Apparently he has a pretty bad broken leg and a collapsed lung. Along with some scrapes and bruises and therapy for his leg, they said in time he is expected to make a full recovery.

  I’m trying to be patient waiting for them to give us an update. If I act up one more time they’ve threatened to escort me out. When we first arrived I went bonkers needing to know if he was alive demanding to see him. Only family this and that bullshit and I about took down a nurse. Two outbursts later and they finally gave me an ultimatum. Sit down or leave. I’ve been sitting in my seat like a good girl for the past two hours, but death glaring each and every nurse that walks by.