Pretend To Be Mine

by Suzie Nelson

  “Maybe,” Angie shrugged. “But I’d rather encourage people than grind them down. Life in general does a good enough job at that.”

  “Ah, then you’re not such an optimist,” Sasha said.

  “I’m a realist,” said Angie, “but a hopeful one.”

  Sasha nodded, “And your question?”

  “Do you actually speak Russian?” Angie asked. “And, if so, which do you prefer: English or Russian?”

  “Technically that’s two questions,” Sasha pointed out.

  Angie shrugged and waited.

  “I do,” said Sasha, giving in to her silence. To be honest, it was actually kind of nice to talk about his mother tongue. “And it depends on the situation. I learned Russian first, from my mother, so it’s a very private, intimate language for me. But English is the language of my work and my country. I don’t know. I don’t think I could choose. It’s like your children. You don’t love one more than the other except when one is misbehaving.”

  Angie smiled. “And does one language ever misbehave?”

  Sasha laughed, “I guess so, kind of. Sometimes when I’m speaking English, Russian will get in the way, or vice versa. You know, like I can only think of the word in the other language and then I get confused. And it’s, like, I just want the other language to get out of the way and let me talk. But I guess these days I don’t really get to speak Russian so it’s nice when I do. It’s almost a relief, you know? Like sinking into a favorite chair.” He paused, suddenly worried that he’d said too much and that she’d want to know why he no longer needed to speak Russian. She might be cute when she yawned, but he didn’t want to talk about his mother with her. That was private.

  But she just smiled at him and said, “Well, why don’t you teach me some words? I don’t know any language but English.”

  Sasha blinked. “Uh…okay. I guess I could.”

  But then the SUV that would carry them to the location showed up outside the front doors and they had to leave it at that. But, to Sasha’s surprise, once they were settled in the car, Angie – her recorder turned off – asked him again to teach her some Russian. So he did. The hour-long ride to the remote forest where they were shooting went by faster than it ever had before.

  Bruce sat silently through the whole ride, looking out at the passing scenery and smiling.

  Chapter 7

  Angie smiled to herself as the hot water poured down her back, massaging her stiff muscles. They’d spent all day trekking through the trees as Sasha and his co-stars ran, jumped, shouted, and pretended to shoot bad guys. She still wasn’t sure exactly what the movie was about, but it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that she’d been there on set with Sasha Pollock, that they’d ridden there and back together in the same SUV, and, most importantly, that he had talked to her.

  She was extremely curious as to why he no longer spoke Russian – where was his mother? Presumably, they spoke Russian together. No one had ever even seen her before, though, so God only knew. Maybe he spoke Russian with his father? Did he have a father? No one knew him either. But she hadn’t wanted to ask what had changed. She knew better that to push it on the first day and scare him off. He’d already talked more than she’d thought he would. Plus, it had been fun learning a few sentences in Russian. His face had lit up as he corrected her pronunciation, the tangled syllables slipping off his tongue with an ease that baffled her. And, to be honest, she had found it kind of hot to hear him speaking Russian. She had to admit that Laura had been right: it was a sexy language and it only made him seem more so.

  She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to find him even more attractive. She was here to work. She was a professional, for heaven’s sake! But suddenly an image sprang into her mind: Sasha, leaning over her, kissing her naked body as he murmured to her, the Russian words sliding over her like silk, making her skin tingle.

  “Stop it!” she told herself out loud and busied herself with the complimentary shampoos.

  The last week of shooting passed quickly and each day Sasha talked a little bit more. She enjoyed the way he teased her, turning her questions on their head, questioning her methods or motives. It kept her on her toes.

  And, to her surprise, he continued her Russian lessons. Each time they got into the SUV he would have a new word or phrase for her to learn before he quizzed on what she’d learned the day before. Soon, Angie found herself practicing in the shower so that she didn’t forget anything. She had to admit he was a good teacher, and he seemed so happy to be speaking Russian. She was dying to ask about his parents, but she knew she still had to wait.

  Then, on their last day of filming, he asked her, “You said you’d been having a shitty six months even before your mother died. What happened? Was it just her cancer?”

  Angie blinked. She was surprised he’d remembered her mentioning that. “No,” she said slowly, trying to figure out how to word what she said. “My mother died very suddenly.”

  Angie took a deep breath. It still hurt to think about. She looked up and saw that Sasha was looking at her intently and his dark eyes seemed incredibly sad. His beautiful, sensual mouth was pulled down at the corners and she felt as if he knew exactly how she was feeling.

  Then Sasha did something very unexpected: he put his arms around her and gently pulled her to his chest, resting his cheek on her hair. It was a light hug, not tight, and she could have left it whenever she wanted. But she didn’t. It felt good to be held. She pressed her cheek to his chest, her fingers taking hold of his windbreaker. “She found out and a few weeks later she was dead,” she whispered.

  Sasha said nothing, but she could feel him swallow. They stayed like that for a moment longer, comforting each other, and then, as suddenly as it had happened, the embrace dissolved and they broke apart. Angie cleared her throat. “But a few months before that I discovered that I’d wasted seven years of my life with an asshole who thought that my successful career was emasculating him. That was what started the whole downward spiral,” Angie explained, finishing her story as if nothing unusual had just happened between her and Sasha.

  “Emasculating him?” Sasha repeated, raising his eyebrows. “He sounds like a douche.”

  “He was. He had no problem with my success when it was paying his rent while he finished his masters, or when it paid for his vacations. But there you go,” she shrugged. “I’m just sorry I wasted so much time on such an idiot.”

  “Well, if he left you, he certainly was an idiot,” Sasha agreed, strolling out to meet the SUV and leaving Angie to wonder what the hell had just happened. Suddenly she realized that she hadn’t even had a chance to ask her question.

  “Sneaky bastard,” she muttered and headed for the SUV.

  That night they all had dinner together: Sasha, Angie, Tansy, and Bruce. It was strangely like a family meal, thought Angie.

  “There’s been a change in plans,” Tansy told them as the waiter poured them each a glass of wine. “We have to stop off in L.A. for a quick photo shoot before heading to Arizona.”

  Sasha made a face. “For the film?” he asked.

  Tansy nodded. “It’s just a one-day thing. A few shots of you in costume looking forlorn but courageous on the studio set. The usual thing.”

  Sasha nodded. “While I’m doing that, why don’t you show Angie around the house? Tell her whatever she wants to know.”

  Bruce’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Tansy controlled her face a little better and said calmly, “Sounds good. You’ll love the house, Angie. It’s beautiful. Right up in the hills in Santa Monica.”

  “Sounds like a dream,” said Angie. “I can sort of vaguely see those hills from my balcony on a clear day,” she joked.

  Tansy chuckled.

  “Do you miss your apartment?” Sasha asked suddenly.

  Angie shook her head. “You already had your question today,” she told him. “But no, not really.”
>
  “I’d like to see it,” he said.

  Angie blinked again. “Uhh, well it’s…it’s nothing special. I mean, I love it, but that’s because it’s mine. But I guess, sure, if you want to. We can go after your photo shoot if you have the time.”

  “Do I have the time?” Sasha asked Tansy. His assistant nodded, smiling slightly.

  “Perfect,” said Sasha and then went back to eating as if nothing had happened, once again leaving Angie totally confused. Why on earth would he want to see her apartment? Surely he knew it wouldn’t be anything compared to his mansions?

  Arriving back in Los Angeles after the quiet of the Oregon forests felt like getting smacked in the face with a cymbal. The wall of heat and noise almost made Angie stumble as they left the airport.

  “Yeah, you forget what it’s like, don’t you?” Sasha said, noticing her reaction.

  Angie nodded.

  “You’ll get used to it again,” the movie star told her.

  And she did. By the time she and Tansy arrived at his mansion, she felt as if she’d never left.

  “Holy shit,” she said as they pulled up in front of the house. “This place is huge!”

  Tansy nodded. “Wait till you see the view.”

  Tansy took her through the entire house, talking about the architecture and the house’s history before Sasha bought it. Angie thought it was the most beautiful house she’d ever been in, though she had to admit it felt more like a showroom than a home - until they came to his study

  “He loves this room, doesn’t he?” Angie asked as she looked around. She felt as if she were somehow trespassing on something very private, even though he’d given her permission.

  Tansy nodded. “It’s really the only room he uses outside of the gym and his bedroom.”

  Angie ran her hands along the soft rust-colored leather of the captain’s chair by his desk. “Is that his mother?” she asked, pointing to the only picture on the desk. It was a photo of a beautiful blonde woman whose dark eyes were smiling down at the cherubic blonde baby balanced on her hip. The baby was reaching towards her, grinning up at the woman.

  “Yeah, that’s them when Sasha was one or two.”

  “What happened to her?” Angie asked, looking at the photo but not daring to pick it up.

  “She died about six years ago,” Tansy said after a moment’s hesitation. “She had cancer. It was fast.”

  Suddenly several things made sense to Angie. She nodded. “Poor guy,” she said. “He must miss her a lot.”

  “I think so,” said Tansy. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but Bruce says he was different back then. Less bored.” Suddenly Tansy’s phone started beeping, “Time to get going, I’m afraid. The photo shoot’s over.”

  Angie nodded, taking one last look at the mother and happy baby as they left.

  Sasha and Bruce met them on the sidewalk. Sasha was grinning and full of energy. “Time to even the score, Wilde. You’ve seen my house, after all,” he smiled down at Angie, rubbing his hands together.

  Angie sighed. She’d thought maybe he’d forgotten their deal. God, she thought, I hope I left it tidy. With everything that had happened since she’d left for Oregon, she honestly couldn’t remember what state she’d left her apartment in.

  Spick and span, apparently. Angie heaved a sigh of relief as she let Sasha into her home, taking a quick look around for any signs of dirty laundry or dishes in need of hiding. Luckily for her, she’d been feeling pro-active before she’d left and the apartment was immaculate.

  As Sasha wandered through the small apartment, making a show of running his fingers along the spins of her books and opening her kitchen cupboards, Angie had to admit that it was nice to be back. She sank into the welcome embrace of her couch and shook her head, smiling as she watched Sasha investigate.

  He was pushing his luck and he knew it. But she honestly didn’t mind him poking through her stuff. As long as he didn’t open the drawer in her bedside table where she kept her dildos, there was nothing in her apartment that she felt she needed to hide. And hell, when it came down to it, she was a grown woman. If he stumbled onto her dildo drawer, it was his own damn fault for being nosy.

  “I like it,” the movie star said finally, coming out of her bedroom. “Especially the bedspread. Great stripes.”

  Angie beamed at him.

  “Did you decorate it yourself?” he asked.

  Angie nodded. “I even put in the electrical outlets and lamps myself. It was only partially complete when I bought it, which is the only reason I could afford an apartment in this neighborhood.”

  Sasha raised his eyebrows. “And she can do her own electrical work? You’re a keeper, Wilde,” he said, giving her an enigmatic half smile. Angie couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or genuinely fond of her.

  “Thanks,” she replied as he joined her on the couch. “Do you actually like it?” For some reason it made her feel good to know that he liked her apartment, despite its humbleness.

  Sasha stretched an arm out over the back of the couch and turned his body towards her. “I do,” he replied. “Why would I lie about that?”

  Angie shrugged. “I just…well, it’s nothing compared to your home.”

  Sasha shook his head. “I like it because it’s loved. You clearly put a lot of thought and effort into making it like this. I like that it’s an extension of you. That it doesn’t just look like everyone else’s apartment. It’s unique.”

  He looked at her as he spoke, his dark eyes holding hers. Angie felt a blush rising up her throat and she looked away, focusing on her feet. “Thanks,” she said to her toes.

  Sasha chuckled. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice lower and rougher than usual. It sent a bolt of desire through Angie and she swallowed. It was time to even the score – before she did something she’d regret.

  Turning back to him, she looked him square in the eyes and asked, “Why did you decide to let me do this interview? The real reason.”

  Sasha blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then he smiled. “No, I suppose you haven’t had your question yet today, have you?”

  She shook her head, refusing to be distracted.

  He sighed. “Because of your mother,” he admitted. Then he corrected himself, “Because of how you spoke about your mother. My mother also died suddenly. I know how it feels to lose your best friend.” He eyed her for a moment then said, “Tansy told you about my mother, didn’t she?” It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t really.

  Angie nodded. There was no point in lying. “Yes, but I’d had my suspicions ever since you said you never got to speak Russian anymore.” She shrugged and looked down, “But it’s a really private thing to talk about. And I wanted to hear it from you…if you were ready to talk about it,” she said. Hesitantly, she put her hand on his, where it lay on his thigh. “I won’t mention it in my article if you don’t want me to,” she told him.

  Sasha smiled down at their hands and took hers in his, his large fingers engulfing hers. “No, it’s okay. I trust you to respect her memory,” he said, his thumb brushing the back of her hand and making Angie break out in goosebumps. “Thank you for waiting.”

  “Of course,” she said softly. She felt a sudden urge to take him in her arms – much like he had done when he’d first heard about her mother. “I’ve had a lot of fun, you know,” she said suddenly. “Working with you, I mean.”

  Sasha looked up at her and smiled. “I’m glad,” he said. He opened his mouth to say more but there was a noise at the door. Someone was trying to unlock it but wasn’t having any luck.

  Frowning, Angie stood up and unlocked it from inside, swinging the door open to reveal Josh, key in hand. Behind him stood a very pretty blonde woman.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Angie.

  “Oh, uh, Ange…I didn’t think you’d be home,” Josh stuttered, straightening. “I just came to get the last of my things. Why won’t my key work?”


  “I changed the locks,” Angie replied, mentally fuming. He could have written to say he was coming. And why now, all of a sudden, did he want the last box of junk he’d left sitting in her apartment for over a year? He’d always told her he didn’t have time, but that she was welcome to drop it off.

  “So you’ve finally found the time to come get your stuff, huh?”

  “You don’t need to be so huffy, Angelica,” said Josh, using her full name. “If it was bothering you, I told you you could drop it off at any time.”

  “It’s your—” Angie took a deep breath and cut herself off. There was no point in getting mad at Josh. He would never see things like a reasonable human being. “Who’s your friend? Did she drive you?”

  Josh smiled at the blonde and brought her forward. “This is my girlfriend Stacey. We’ve been together six months now.”