Faking It

by Nikki Bella

  “Hey Alyssa, it’s Braden.”

  “Hey! What’s up?”

  “I want to take you out tonight. I don’t want to beat around the bush, let me take you out.” I felt like a sweaty kid in high school, worried that she would say no. Or like I was trying to pin a corsage to her dress without sticking a needle into her while her dad watched.

  She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Braden.”

  But I could tell she wanted to say yes. Her voice said that it was a fine idea indeed. And whenever there’s an opening, I can find it. In another life, I might have made a great detective. “It’s a great idea.” I tried to put a laugh in my voice. “Look, last night might have just been another job to you, but it really meant something to me. I’m not sure how well I can explain it. I don’t get like that. I don’t feel like that very often. If I didn’t know you better I might think you had cast some weird spell on me and tricked me into admitting all of my issues. So, I think it’s only fair, witchy woman that you are, that you let me take you out.”

  “Not sure my dad would see it that way, hot stuff.”

  That’s what I was talking about. She could not help but be playful, and that’s when I knew that her experience had been as good as mine. There was no way she would have called me hot stuff the night I dropped that towel in the locker room, unless she was doing it condescendingly, which wasn’t her style. No, no one can fake the sort of intrigue that was creeping into her voice. I figured she was probably playing with her hair and feeling as good about all this as I was. I liked the thought of that, I really did. As long as she was flirty, this was as good as sealed. But even as we talked, I realized that I wasn’t thinking about getting her home and dragging her into bed. I just wanted to be with her, and I’d never felt anything like that. Nearly everything I was saying to her felt like it would be a cheesy line in some other guy’s mouth, but I was being as authentic as I ever had. What was wrong with me?

  “He doesn’t have to know, Alyssa. And if it makes it easier, it can just be for the interview. Maybe I can give you some better stuff, or, I don’t know, like bonus material or something? And that way, even if he did find out we spent some time together, he would be able to support it since it would be for your show.”

  I can almost hear her thinking. Say yes say yes say yes.

  “I just want to know you better,” I said. “If that means I have to let you learn more about me, so be it.”

  “That might work,” she said. “You’d be willing to answer more questions?”

  “Not only that, I’m happy to talk to you exclusively. I mean, I’d have to clear it with my agent, but yeah. I’d be willing to tell you anything you want to know,” I said. I checked myself for signs of insincerity. Nope, it was all real. I’ll say this: when you are the toughest, people stop asking if you’re okay. They just assume that you can handle whatever you’re dealing with, and that’s not always the case. Guys like me don’t get to feel defenseless very often. Maybe that’s what part of her appeal was. She made me want to let her in. She reminded me that vulnerability was a real thing.

  Once you know how to hurt a body, you have a better chance of knowing how to heal it. Guys like Bruce Lee would have made great doctors if they had different inclinations. Alyssa had been around fighting her whole life and she seemed to have an innate intuition about what people—meaning, me—needed.

  “Fantastic,” I said. “I’m going to get in one more quick session, clean up, then come and get you. I’ll take you to dinner and then we’ll keep going on the interview.”

  “Where should we meet?”

  “I’m going to come pick you up. And unless you’re a picky eater, let me choose, okay? I know just where to take you.”

  She agreed and I went back out into the gym. It looked brighter, somehow. Cleaner. Like a place with purpose, not a place to use as a distraction. I worked with a focus unknown even to me. I’d always prided myself on my obsessive training, even with that tough year I had, but this was different. Every time I hit the bag, or the pads, it was like I was pounding on some part of me that I didn’t like. I could hit harder. I was more accurate. I could tie every movement to something bigger. To a future, instead of simply trying to outrun my anger moment to moment.

  You know what? I think Alyssa was making me want to be a better person. That sounded like a line from a movie. Maybe it was. Still true, though.

  When I finished up, I thanked my sparring partners and Mason and hit the shower, which reminded me again of how I’d dropped my towel in front of Alyssa. How I had laughed, knowing that she was probably thinking about me in the shower. Well now I was thinking about her, in exactly the way I promised myself I never would. Getting too attached to people took away your freedom. My freedom was what had allowed me to do what I do: fight without limits.

  I wondered if her dad had any idea that I had just made a date with his daughter. Or something close to it. I knew she’d be in for it if he caught us. I could handle myself, but she was obviously such a daddy’s girl that I didn’t know exactly how she would respond to his disapproval. I didn’t plan on finding out.

  I changed into a jacket and my nicest slacks. I kept a few changes of sharp clothes at the gym. Sometimes photographers would drop by and want something more polished than a bunch of sweaty hogs hitting each other. It never hurt to be able to look slick on short notice. On my way out, everyone whistled and jeered at me. It must have looked like a Halloween costume to them. I encouraged them all to enjoy their fun, knowing that I was probably on the way to the greatest night of my life. Even that sort of hyperbole made me laugh, because I recognized that I was being dramatic and knew that it might actually be true.

  I got in my Mercedes, a gift from the company. The car had been part of my first big endorsement deal. When I had sent a picture of the car to mom she had tried to be encouraging, but had quickly changed the subject to Janie and my brothers and how overwhelmed she was by everything.

  No. I had better things to think about.

  I texted Alyssa and she sent me her address. It wasn’t familiar to me and I realized that I had never been to Mason’s house. I wondered if this was going to be it, or if she was meeting me somewhere on the sly. If it was his house, he must not be there or she wouldn’t have suggested we meet here.

  I still wasn’t sure when I pulled into the driveway, which was so long that it could have held a single file fleet of yachts. A whistle escaped me. I couldn’t believe the size of her dad’s house. I knew Mason was a legitimate legend who had done very well for himself, but I had no idea he lived like this. This was something I would have expected from, I don’t know, someone like a sultan. Suddenly my car seemed like a toy. I felt like a boy. Oh well, I could always find a way to use things for inspiration. I’d let this fire me up just like everything else. Intimidation wasn’t on the list of things I felt.

  Not ever.

  Even more unbelievable was the sight of Alyssa coming down the walkway to meet me. She had put on a dark blue dress and had her hair pulled back tight. Classy and effortless. Better yet, she didn’t seem to have any idea how hot she looked, even though I’m sure she spent some time thinking about what to wear.

  I got out and opened the door for her, wondering absently if her dad was watching from an upstairs window. But no, he wouldn’t be. I doubt he would have wanted her anywhere near me and she surely knew as well. The fact that she wasn’t slinking around like a cat burglar must have meant that he was somewhere else.

  “Where do you want to eat?” I said after getting behind the wheel.

  “What were you thinking? You told me you were going to pick. I’m easy when it comes to food. My dad cooks like a pro, though, so I’m definitely a little spoiled.”

  So, not only was Mason a decorated veteran and highly sought-after MMA coach, he was also an elite chef. Fine, fine. I put “learn to cook like Mason” in my mental to-do list. And I had to keep in mind that Mason was older. He had a huge head
start on me in life, but I could be just as focused. As it happened, though, I was no slouch as a cook.

  “I know just the place. If you didn’t have anything in mind, just leave it to me.” On the way to the restaurant, I think we were both a little nervous. I definitely was, but she was showing it a lot more than I was. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a sense of how the night would go. It felt easy with her. The nerves were pleasant. There was an anticipation in the air between us. Anticipation of what, exactly, remained to be seen.

  When I pulled into my own driveway, she gave me a look like I had tricked her like some unscrupulous guy running a carnival game. “This doesn’t look like a restaurant. This looks like a house. Yours, I’m guessing?”

  “Good guess! You should be working for a carnival.”

  “Who says I don’t?”

  “What’s your specialty? You’re obviously not the bearded lady. Are you the one who tricks people into paying to see the littlest horse in the world, but then it turns out the whole effect is done with mirrors?”

  “I can tell whenever someone’s running game on me.”

  I snorted. Couldn’t help it. “What is your special carnival sense telling you right now?”

  “Ask me later. But nice house. Really nice.”

  Most relationships I’d been in didn’t have a lot of give and take. They were mostly just me taking. I could admit it. I suppose that’s not a real relationship, is it? But I couldn’t have admitted it before meeting Alyssa. And if everyone lets you take without asking anything in return, how much are you actually obligated to give?

  “Yeah, it’s humble but it’s mine. Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  I haven’t been entirely honest here. The one thing I could do besides fight was cook. Maybe that’s selling myself a little short, but I was a hell of a cook. It threw me when I heard about Mason, because knowing him it wouldn’t have surprised me if he turned out to be the best cook in the entire world. But that feeling passed. I was no slouch in the kitchen. “My family is really into food,” I said when I ushered her into the dining room, where I had set the table.

  “My mom always said it was the easiest way to make people happy.”

  “Nothing about this looks easy, Braden,” she said, taking it in. “In fact, it looks like you put a ton of effort into it. Who taught you?”

  “My mom, mostly. But she taught us all to love it. Then we’d experiment. After a while, it turned into a competition. Big surprise, right?” And now I’m competing with your dad. We’d all cook and try to outdo each other. My brothers and I. Then we’d let Janie be the judge. That was always her favorite part of the week. Taste test day.”

  “Janie’s your sister?”

  “Yeah. You’ll get to meet her soon. She will bully you into a list of reading recommendations that you have never heard of. But I don’t want to say more than that right now. Might spoil your sixth sense. I want to see how in tune you are with the universe.” I pulled out her chair and sat her down. “Be right back. First course coming up.”

  I brought out the appetizer, a batch of medium-sized oysters. “I shucked these myself.”

  “Were you wearing that suit when you did it?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I’m many things, including messy. I like this suit but I doubt it’s oyster proof.”

  “Probably not.”

  “You know, even if you were a picky eater, these oysters are good enough that I think I could have swayed you towards them either way.” I had also heard that oysters were an aphrodisiac. Not that I needed any help getting revved up for her, and she seemed like she was into me.

  When she tried one her face lit up and the effort was immediately worth it. Knowing that I got that reaction out of her—with a little help from the highest quality oysters in town—was pure joy. Within minutes we had polished off the plate. The pleasure I felt at someone else’s pleasure was exquisite. No, not just anyone. Hers.

  For the entree, I had prepared a duck with orange sauce. Dessert was a tiramisu that had taken forever. Most people think that Olive Garden is the height of tiramisu, but those people still have not had a real tiramisu. No king has ever dined in an Olive Garden. I had been prepared to answer questions throughout the dinner, but for a while, the only thing she wanted to talk about was the food, how I had made it, what the ingredients were, and to tell me what a bad cook she was.

  “We always had a cook,” she said. “My dad always wanted us to eat healthy and he said hiring someone to prepare for to our specs—his specs, of course—was the best way to make sure it always happened. That was the one thing about him—no matter how good his food was, it was all fattening and fun. When dad cooked it was usually for special occasions when we all wanted to hog out. It still took a professional cook to keep us healthy.”

  “I can’t say he’s wrong about that,” I said. “What with that figure you’re rocking.” I laughed, worried that I’d overstepped, but she smiled and looked at her plate, then looked back up at me with her head lowered. It was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. The weirdest thing was that it was also something I had seen before in other women. They just hadn’t had the same effect on me.

  “You know,” she said, “That’s one of the first things you’ve said to me that didn’t annoy me. You were absolutely impossible that first night.”

  “Well, I annoy most people way quicker,” I said. “You’re right, though. I was an idiot. A big, naked idiot.” There was a quiet moment and she opened her mouth. But before she could say anything, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my mom, saying she was ready for a skype call. “I think this might give you a better idea of what I’m like,” I said, nodding to the living room. “Come on out here and meet the family. This might work better to answer your questions that I could do on my own. Let’s see what happens. These people know me better than anyone. They’ll keep me honest.”

  I could tell it surprised her, but she was into it. She got out her recorder and checked her equipment. I wasn’t sure if she would need it, but she was welcome to record anything she saw.

  What she saw as the screen flickered into life was my mom and Janie, smiling like they had just won the lottery. If that didn’t melt Alyssa’s heart, nothing would.

  Not that I was planning on melting her heart. Or running game on her. None of that. I was determined, for the first time, to show a woman the real me, for better or worse.

  Chapter 7

  There was nothing quite like having all of your expectations of a person blown away. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde didn’t even begin to cover the discrepancies between Braden’s former and current selves. Who was this man who cooked duck, calamari, shucked oysters, and talked about me meeting his family? Who gave me the kind of sincere compliments that I would have loved hearing from anyone, but that made me shiver when they came from him? I hoped that I had hidden it well, but I spent that dinner in full-on fever mode. I wanted to knock everything off the table, throw him onto it, and show him just how wild he had made me. Effortless charm. That’s what he had. Most men I had been with tried so hard to flatter me that, by the time I gave in, even if I had wanted to, it was nearly always more effort than it was worth. And when it happens that way, it’s not even real charm. When it’s calculated, it’s something else. It occurred to me that I had never actually been seduced. I had told myself that I had, but I had been fooling myself.

  Braden, though...even if he was being real and was doing it subconsciously, he was absolutely leading me and my body somewhere.

  It was almost a relief when his phone interrupted us.

  Almost.

  I followed him into the living room and we sat in front of his laptop. He connected to Skype, there were a couple of beeps and boops, and then his mom and his sister appeared on the screen.

  They were absolutely adorable and I was touched to see the love in their eyes as they looked at Braden, big brother, and son. He looked just like a masculine version of his mother. The same high cheekbones.
The same piercing eyes. As they greeted each other, it was obvious that he had picked up many of his mannerisms from her.

  “Hey mom, Janie, this is Alyssa. She’s a reporter who’s doing a story on you two. I told her that you were the most glamorous creatures on earth and she couldn’t get her microphone out fast enough. Oh wait, it’s not really a microphone, is it?’

  “No, it is. It’s just digital.”

  “Well, I will do my best to be glamorous,” said his mom. “Call me Amy, please.”

  “I will, thank you. And what about you, Janie? Do you go by Janie, or do I need to call you Miss Glamorous like your brother is insisting?”

  Janie was in a wheelchair. Her neck was twisted at an angle that looked painful. I wasn’t an expert, but I would have guessed that she had cerebral palsy. “Janie is just fine,” she said. “Hey big brother,” she said, her voice high and clear. Her eyes lit up with joy at seeing Braden, and I was thrilled to see that he had the same expression on his face. Nothing was as attractive to me as seeing a man truly exuberant about a passion, and Braden’s family was obviously one of his passions. But I couldn’t help but think about what he said about his insecurities. I wondered if it was all in his head. Surely this wasn’t the mother who pressured him into thinking he wasn’t as good as his brothers.

  “Are you his girlfriend?” said Janie. “Have you read the Narnia books? If you didn’t like those, you should take a look at The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. I’m really interested in genetics.”

  “Uh,” I said. “I’m just a—”

  “Would you like that Janie?” said Braden. “I think that’s exactly what should happen. Help me wear her down.”

  Amy laughed. “What do you think, Janie?” she said. “Isn’t it about time your wild big brother settled in? Maybe it would knock some sense into his head, instead of letting these other maniacs knock it out.”

  “Leave it to me,” said Janie. “By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be on your arm, Braden. But when’s your next fight? Is that chicken still hiding from you?”