by JA Huss
“You’re not buying me a house. It’s…”
“It’s our house,” I say. “We found it together. We walked through it together. We pictured ourselves living there together. It’s our first real memory. You can’t take that away from me even if you wanted to.”
She shakes her head and lowers her eyes. But she’s smiling.
“Come on,” I say, getting to my feet and taking her hand. “Let’s go. We’ll buy the ring, and get some lunch, and buy the house and then… we’ll go home.”
“Home,” she says. “That’s so crazy.”
“But it’s kinda crazy good, don’t you think?”
She shrugs. “I can’t decide.”
“I like you, OK? I do. I just… don’t do relationships. Everyone knows this. I have a reputation for being a one-night stand kind of guy. And I know this is not what you want to hear, but think of it this way.”
I place my hands on her cheeks and hold her face steady. Wait for her to look up and meet my eyes.
“You get more of me than anyone else on the planet. And I get it, Brooke. I do. What I’m offering isn’t the grand prize by any means. And I get the feeling that you’ve been living a lie for a long time and now you want something real. So what I’m offering isn’t really enough. Not nearly enough. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never offered this to anyone else. Not a single person. Ever. And I will tell you this, and I hope you believe me. It’s real. Brooke. I promise. It’s real.”
She nods her head.
“Is that good enough? For now?”
She nods again.
“OK. And if you want me to tell you to stay away from my friends, then fine. Stay away from them. Don’t let them touch you anymore.”
She stares at me. And I know what she’s thinking. Because it’s what I’m thinking.
I don’t really mean that.
And I don’t.
I kinda get off on the idea of Huck and Wald with Brooke.
But that’s not what she wants to hear. So I keep it to myself.
A couple hours later, freshly showered and dressed, Brooke and I head down to my car.
“You look nice today,” I say, noticing her peach-colored sundress and her high-heeled sandals. Her hair is down and still a little bit damp. If I take a deep breath I can smell her shampoo. Which must be something she brought with her, because we’ve just been using the hotel stuff.
It smells like summer. She looks like summer.
A new memory, I realize. We’re making another new memory.
“Thanks,” she says. “So do you.”
I grin and slide my sunglasses down. I’m wearing a suit because important things are happening today.
“Did you see the socials?” Brooke asks.
“Some of it,” I say. “Huck was doing his best to shove it in my face all morning.”
“It looks pretty legit, don’t you think? I mean, not all the new fake ones are up yet because that Photoshop guy is still working on those. But there are a few.”
“They look damn good. Very convincing. Makes you wonder how many fake people you’re interacting with online though.”
“Probably all of them.” She laughs. “There are no real people left anymore.”
“Cynical,” I say, clicking my key fob to unlock her door. I hold it open for her and wait for her to slide in, her long legs shapely and beautiful as she crosses them and looks up at me to smile.
I close her door and sigh.
I do like her. I could get used to her being around, that’s for sure. We look good together. She’s not as tall as me, but almost. Especially with heels on. And she’s very pretty.
It’s nice to have a girl who isn’t after my money or my status.
I get in the car, close my door, and then look at her.
“What?” she asks.
“You’re real. You might be the most real person I’ve ever met. Aside from Huck and Wald, that is.”
“You know nothing, Joey Boston. I’m as fake as they come.”
I start the car and point to her. “Even though you lie, you don’t feel like a liar, Brooke. I gotta be honest.”
“It’s a paradox, I guess.”
“What is?”
“I’m a great liar. I can make up stories like nobody’s business. But all I want to do is tell the truth.”
“So tell me more,” I say.
“It benefits no one to tell more of my secrets.”
“I’m gonna get more out of you soon.”
“Don’t be so sure. I think one revealed secret is the perfect number.”
“You feel better now?”
She nods. And this is when I know. This moment is the one I’ll think about whenever anyone mentions her name in the future. This bright summer day. First real day of some new life as of yet, unimagined. Her peach-colored dress, and her flower-scented shampoo lingering on her dark, damp hair. Her long, tan legs, and her sad brown eyes. Because they are sad, but even so, they’re a good kind of sad. The kind of sad that can be fixed with a little bit of pink.
We’re on the precipice of something good. Maybe… even something great. And I have this sudden realization that we are a couple. I don’t know what kind of couple, and that’s probably not even the right word.
She’s on my team and I’m on hers too.
“I do feel better,” Brooke says. I can’t explain it, but—”
“No. I get it. It makes sense. Mutually assured destruction, right?”
“No.” She laughs. “Maybe… I dunno… more like mutually assured success.”
I smile at that as I pull the car out and head up to the street.
“That’s what loyalty really is, you know,” she says. “Mutually assured success.”
And I can’t say I disagree.
The jewelry store isn’t really a store. More of a private showroom for rich, connected people. We pull up to a plain brick building with no sign in downtown just off Maple Avenue.
“What’s this?” Brooke asks.
“The rich man’s version of a jewelry store,” I say. “Come on. They’re expecting us.”
We get out and walk up to the door. There’s a small security panel built into the brick, and when I press the button, a soft, feminine voice immediately says, “Come in, Mr. Boston,” and the door lock buzzes.
Brook says nothing when I open the door and wave her forward. If she’s impressed by the exclusive nature of our little ring-shopping adventure, she doesn’t show it.
Mr. Frank greets us as we approach the end of a long hallway. “Joey Boston,” he says. “How many years has it been?”
“Long time,” I say.
“The last time you were here you came with your father.”
“Yeah,” I say, looking at Brooke. “High school graduation.” Then I hold up my wrist and say, “Still got it.”
“That watch,” he says, squinting his eyes. “One of the finest in the world. Your father really loved you. Johnny didn’t get a watch. Jesse didn’t get a watch. Just you.”
“Huh,” I say. “I guess I never realized that.”
“Come in. Come in. What brings you to my humble shop today?”
We enter the main showroom and humble is not even in the top million words any sane person would use to describe this place.
There are literally hundreds of millions of dollars in jewels and timepieces in this room.
“Wow,” Brooke says, raising her eyebrows. “This is some collection.”
“We’re shopping for a ring,” I say, then notice the whirring of cameras up in each of the room’s corners. They’re zooming in on us, I think.
“A ring!” Mr. Frank says, clasping his hands together. “What kind of ring?”
“You know,” I say, taking Brooke’s hand and bringing her knuckles to my lips so I can kiss them. “This kind.”
She looks at me and blushes. So that’s what it takes to make her pink?
And… wow. I really like her pink. So I kiss her hand again
.
“What do you like, my dear? Don’t be shy. This one can afford anything in this room. In fact he could buy everything in this room if your heart desired it.”
Brooke looks at me in surprise.
“He’s joking,” I say.
But Mr. Frank whispers, “I’m really not, darling. Get anything you want.”
“Well,” Brooke says, looking around. “I’m kind of a simple girl. I was thinking one carat—”
Mr. Frank is already tsk-ing his tongue. “One? No, no, no. You need three.”
“Three… three… three is much too big,” Brooke says.
“I agree,” I say. “At least three.”
“See, he says at least three. Which means we start at three point five.”
“No,” Brooke says, turning to face me. “I’m not wearing a ring that big. It’s too much. Someone will rob me. One carat is fine.”
“Two point nine,” Mr. Frank counters.
“That’s the same thing as three!” Brooke laughs.
“Two then,” I say.
“One point five,” Brooke counters.
I look at Mr. Frank. But he’s shaking his head. “One, one point five. You cannot see the difference. Two is better.”
I look at Brooke with raised eyebrows. “Two then?”
She sighs. “I feel so stupid fighting you about the carat weight of a diamond ring you want to buy me.”
“So stop fighting it,” I say. Then… I don’t know. I don’t know what comes over me. But I pull her close, place my hands on her waist, and say, “You’re going to pick a ring of approximately two carats and then I’m going to propose to you and put it on your finger. And then you’re going to wear it forever. No matter what. And we’re not going to ever talk about it again. Deal?”
“He’s so romantic,” Mr. Frank jokes.
“Deal?” I ask again.
“Deal,” she says.
And then I kiss her. I know I don’t have to kiss her. I know Mr. Frank isn’t recording this to report back to the Kane family. But I kiss her anyway. I kiss her… because I want to.
And while we’re kissing I whisper, “I am loyal to you.”
She pulls away smiling and pink.
And I did that.
Maybe, for once in my life, I feel like I did the right thing.
Two hours later we’re leaving. Mr. Frank has showered Brooke with small parting gifts. A pair of gold earrings. An anklet. A bracelet with a charm that he says “belongs to her,” whatever that means. And, of course, the ring.
Which is actually two point eight carats because despite Brooke’s claim that she didn’t really care about the ring, there was almost no way not to fall in love with this one.
And yes, it is huge.
Those parting gifts from Mr. Frank are mere grab-bag trinkets after what I just spent.
Once the money was transferred to Mr. Frank’s account I got down on one knee, took her hand in mine, and asked her to marry me.
She blushed. And smiled. And said yes.
Yet another pink moment.
Maybe this making-people-happy thing isn’t that hard?
And even though it’s fake and she knew I was gonna do this and I knew she’d say yes, even if she didn’t mean it because Mr. Frank was watching, I felt happy when she accepted my proposal.
It’s weird.
Which is probably a bad sign.
Because, of course, it’s fake. We both know it’s fake. But here’s the problem with lies and faking shit. If you’re really good at it—the way Brooke is. The way I am—then that shit catches up with you and pretty soon you live that lie.
I’m trying to be careful with her feelings. Because it’s clear to me now that Brooke is such a great liar, she lives that lie quicker than most. I’m trying to be mindful of that for her sake.
But maybe I should be mindful of that for my sake too?
Once back inside my car I catch her staring at the ring in the sunlight. “You love it, don’t you?”
She smiles, huffing out a laugh. “I’ve never seen anything so pretty in all my life.”
“You know, if we ever break up you could start a whole new life if you sold that ring.”
“Fuck you,” she says. “I’m never selling this.” Then she lowers her head a little and looks up at me. “And I’m already starting a new life. I hope I never have to start over again. It’s… hard.”
I get it. I met this girl yesterday. Aside from the fact that she was kidnapped at sixteen, stayed with the man who took her willingly, and is a champion liar, I know nothing about what’s floating around inside her head.
But I see something on the outside. Something I didn’t pick up on yesterday morning when she was confidently spinning tales about Singapore and Frisbee, but is very apparent now in hindsight.
She’s very vulnerable.
“Well,” I say, snapping out of my introspection when she begins to frown at me. “Are you ready to buy a house?”
She sighs. “This is such a weird day. And I thought yesterday was one for the books. But today… just. Holy shit. I think I must be dreaming.” Then she looks at me quickly. “Not for the reason you think, either.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking I was some down-on-her-luck girl yesterday morning and now I’m wearing a hundred thousand dollars on my finger and I’m about to buy a seven-million-dollar house with Joey Boston. The Joey Boston.”
I take her hand. Kiss the ring. And say, “I never thought you were down on your luck. Ever.”
And that’s not even a lie.
“Well… I felt that way. Before yesterday. I felt like I was down on my luck.” Then she turns a little so she can face me. “But you know what?”
“What?”
“It wasn’t you who changed that.”
“No?” I say, surprised.
“No. I woke up that way. I had a plan. I was going to make my own future as a Bright Berry Beach Cosmetics independent salesperson. And then all this happened.”
“You really were going to work there?”
“Yeah. I really was. And I was excited about it. How the hell did you end up in that building for those interviews, anyway?”
“Oh, you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“My little brother, Jesse. He’s dating one of the founders. Emma Dumas.”
“No!”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Emma Dumas.” Brooke practically sighs her name. “She’s a partner. So she must know Mila Sanchez really well, right?”
“Yeah. I know Mila too. She’s kinda mean though. I keep my distance. But if you really want a job there, I can get you a job. I can introduce you to Mila too. Though I’m telling you. She’s mean.”
“No.” She laughs. “I do want a job. And I will get one, once we get Maisy back. But I don’t need any help. I’m gonna do it on my own. I’m kinda looking forward to climbing my way up their Bright Berry Beach corporate ladder. And I do want to meet Mila. But I don’t want an introduction. I want her to… notice me.”
She beams a smile when she says this. Absolutely beams.
“I really know how to pick them, don’t I?”
“What?”
“You,” I say. “You’re one of the strong ones, Brooke.”
“You didn’t pick me,” she says. “Huck did.” And it’s not snide or anything. Just a fact.
But I hold her hand up and turn it so she can see the ring flashing in the sunlight.
And I say, “I did pick you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - BROOKE
He did pick me.
I stare at the ring the whole drive over to the title company. This is a little bit embarrassing because I have never pictured myself as one of those girls who gets giddy about rings or guys.
But maybe, if you get the right ring, and the right guys, giddiness is called for?
I have never once dreamed about my wedding day. I have never envisioned a honeymo
on, or a bridal shower, or a baby.
In fact I’d go so far as to say these things maybe a little bit… repulsed me.
A normal life was never in my future.
The best I could ever hope for was a stable purpose. Achievable goals. Hell, even that little apartment I was renting filled with all that new furniture was more than I ever thought I’d have.
Not because of the money, either. It’s not the money.
It’s the sense of… permanence.
And it’s not that I don’t want permanence, I do. So bad. But that’s the catch-22, isn’t it? When you want something too hard it becomes precious. And when things become precious you live in constant fear that one day—probably one day soon--you will lose that precious something.
“You’re quiet,” Joey says.
“Just admiring my ring,” I say.
And it’s not a lie.
That might be a little scary.
“I’m glad you like it. I was worried after all that talk about how you didn’t want one.”
“I was being dumb,” I say.
“No, you weren’t. I get it now. You need loyalty. And I didn’t think I could give that to you until you told me that secret. But… wait,” he says. “Hold on. I have to clear something up. I’m not going to cheat on you, OK? I’m not that kind of man.”
“Oh,” I say, pulling my attention away from the ring. “No. I wasn’t thinking that.”
“You weren’t?”
“No. I… I’m not that kind of girl.”
We both laugh.
“OK, let me clarify. I’m not the jealous type.” But then I’m second-guessing myself. Because I am jealous. I’m jealous of them. But that’s different and not what he’s referring to, so I continue. “I guess. I don’t really know that for sure. But I wasn’t worried about that last night when I had my little freakout.”
“You need me on your side.”
I nod. “Yeah. That’s a good way to put it.”
“Done,” he says.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. That kind of loyalty I know how to do.”
I nod. “Yeah. I saw that immediately. You, and Huck, and Wald. You have that. That’s what I was after when I made this deal. I want that, Joey. With you.”
