Just Fake It

by Pierce, Haley

  Brandon nods, though he looks a little sad. He might not have liked this place at first, but I know it’s grown on him. I can’t imagine going back to the cockroach apartment, now. Not after everything he’s seen. Our money might buy a new place, but it won’t buy Minnie or June or Justin or any of the people who he’s gotten familiar with.

  Justin studies me for a long time. I can’t bring myself to look at him. He shrugs. “It was just a suggestion. We don’t have to, if you’d rather not.”

  But by then, Brandon is begging me with his eyes, so I give in.

  By the time I finish tucking Brandon in at night, my whole body is buzzing. I’ve never felt so indecisive in my life. Am I really going to risk everything – my dignity, my family, my sanity—for the best sex of my life?

  How can I be that stupid? That selfish?

  I’d had it in my head. Along with the wardrobe, the stylists had given me quite a few sexy negligees I’d imagined I’d never wear. I hold a pale pink one in my hands, imagining sliding it on, striding across the house, and knocking on Justin’s door. I imagine him looking at me with that same desire he’d had out on the patio as he peeled it off. I imagine his body against mine, his massive, perfect cock buried deep inside me. The thought is enough to make my knees weak.

  Then I think of Brandon. Of my conversation with my sister.

  The camera adds fifteen pounds. Who, exactly, do I think I am? Not the wife of a famous filmmaker. I’m not even a good actress. I’m just plain, chubby, nobody who this amazing genius filmmaker will forget about after March.

  And I can’t bring myself to do it.

  I’d be a total chump, just going into that room for sex. For someone who doesn’t care about me. That’s what got me into Steven Long’s bed, too.

  So instead, I change into a bathing suit, grab a towel, and go outside. Then I dive into the water and start to do laps.

  I do laps the way I always do them—slowly. Not like glorious perfect Justin, the way he does everything. By the time I count to fifty, it’s probably late. I look up at the house and see the light to his room is on. I wonder if he is waiting for me.

  And god, I want him. I don’t think I’ve ever wanting anything so much.

  But this is right.

  This is the way it has to be.

  I close my eyes and float on my back for a long time, listening to the water lapping at my ears.

  “So that’s a no to my invitation?”

  I open my eyes and see him sitting at the edge of the pool, near the waterfall, his elbows on his knees. He doesn’t look disappointed, more like curious.

  I swim over to him and dip my head under to get my hair under control. “Look. My sister told me my parents recognized me on television this morning. That means other people might, too. I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.”

  I wait for him to say something about that, but he doesn’t. Finally, he says, “Is that the reason you didn’t come?”

  I nod. Among other things. “I’m sorry.”

  He rubs at the back of his neck. “So am I. Not that I didn’t expect it. I saw it in your eyes at dinner. What are you afraid of?”

  I shrug. I can’t bring myself to answer that, because there’s just so much. I reach for the railing and pull myself up out of the pool, then grab the towel and wipe my face.

  He follows me and grabs my arm. “So what if your parents think it’s you, Lee. You said you don’t even talk to them. If anyone else finds out, just deny. That’s all you’ve got to do.”

  He makes it sounds so easy. I wrench my arm away.

  “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t try to change my mind. Please.”

  I add the “please” because I know the second he says anything, I will fall under his spell.

  “I just want to understand it. You think I’m a phony, right? You want to keep me as far as you can away from your son. Right?”

  I nod.

  “What if I told you that I wasn’t acting during that interview this morning. That I’m the happiest I’ve ever been?”

  I freeze. Oh, god, he’s got me. “You are?”

  “And you have everything to do with it. Okay? Everything,” he says, tightening his grip on my arm. “We don’t have to do tonight. I just don’t want you to close yourself off from me and accuse me of lying when I’m really just living. And yeah, you’re right, I’m an egotistical bastard who goes after what makes him happy. You.”

  My heart beats a wild drumbeat in my ears.

  I don’t need to think. Thinking’s what has me so confused in the first place. I drop the towel and pull him toward me, slamming my mouth onto his, open and demanding in my kisses. My hands search the rock-hard muscles of his chest. He’s beautiful, but what he looks like is nothing compared to the feeling of him. I wrap my hands around his neck, and I don’t stop kissing him until I’m absolutely out of breath. I tear away from him and say, “We do have to do tonight. Now.”

  I drop my head to his chest, kissing my way down it, licking at his nipple, first, savoring the taste of him, a heady mixture of salt and chlorine.

  I scoot myself to the edge of the lounge, guiding him down beside me, pushing his underwear down, then my eyes fasten on his cock, resting, rigid, on his stomach. My breath hitches with the thought of that inside me. I can’t even imagine how amazing it will feel.

  I almost don’t feel worthy of touching it, so my fingertips graze it gently at first. Then I wrap my palm around his hard, thick, scorching hot length. All I want is to please him, to pleasure him.

  I shift back on his legs so that I’m on my shins, straddling his knees. He’s so so thick in my palm, all veined and powerful and beautiful, it takes my breath away. I slided my hand down to his base, then up again, starting a little rhythm. “This good?” I ask him through a veil of wet hair.

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice husky, labored. “Put your mouth on me.”

  I want to, gladly. I throw my hair to the side so I could let his facial expressions guide me. My very first blow job, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to please a man so much. Then I lean over and touch my tongue tentatively to the tip of his cock. There’s a bit of moisture on the end, and he tastes of salt and heat. It was nothing short of magnetic. He flinches, and sits up on his elbows watching me, his eyes half-closed, dazed with desire.

  Dipping my head, I run my tongue down his thick length, up and down. Then I lift it straight and sucked the entire length into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue.

  He tangles a hand in my hair at the base of my neck and pushed me down, further, further. I feel him shudder a bit as he hits the back of my throat. He groans. “That’s good,” he growls. “This is fucking incredible.”

  Now I’m only more rabid to please him, to reduce him to the shivery mass of jelly he’d made me. I pull my mouth off of him with a resounding smack, then sink down low again. I suck him deeper, deeper, and I can tell from the rapturous look on his face and the small, throaty groans that escape his mouth that he likes it. I begin to set a rhythm, cupping his balls in my hand and massaging them, and he starts to move with me, thrusting up and into my mouth.

  His hands are hard pressure on the back of my head, urging me on. His breathing grows more and more ragged, until I know he’s close.

  Suddenly he lifts my head up, holding me firm. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom, which he hands to me. “Do the honors, baby. I need to be inside that tight pussy of yours.”

  Though he’s totally in control, I felt like he’s speaking my thoughts. I want him inside me unlike anything I’d ever wanted in my life. The thought of it sends a pulse of pure desire straight into my center.

  I sit back on his thighs, holding his cock up, and position myself over it. Taking a deep breath, I sink onto him, taking him in, inch by hot inch. God, he’s huge, but he fits me like a glove. My inner walls tense around his hot skin, and I take him all the way down, until he’s buried to the hilt inside me and my thighs are fully spread over him
. We both let out a breath at the same time. Buried deep in me, he gazes up at me, holding me in his arms. The droplets of water from the pool have been licked away; now our bodies were bathed in each other’s sweat.

  He pushes my hair from my face. “Lee.” It’s just a breath.

  I wait for him to say more. But he doesn’t. “You feel good,” I say, resting my forehead against his, because I can’t think of anything more eloquent. All I can do is feel him.

  “Incredible. Lee, you’re incredible,” he says, as I start to move, lifting off him, then dropping back down, slowly, working into a nice, deep rhythm. “Aw, goddamn.”

  He digs his hands into my hips and controls the movement, holding me on him, lifting me up, faster and faster, until we’re both moaning.

  I know he’s close, because I can feel him spasming inside me, so I go for broke, moving up and down, grinding hard against his cock, until he grips my hips hard, slamming me down onto him as he comes hard, into me.

  When we’re done, and quiet, I peel myself off of him, lying back, naked, under the starry sky, feeling . . . damn good. I can’t stop grinning. So even if it was the wrong thing to do . . . oh, fuck it.

  That can’t be wrong. It’s right, for right now, and that’s all I care about.

  Chapter 16

  We do make it to his bed, eventually.

  After hours of making love, and this is really making love, or at least the closest thing to it, I lie in his arms, my legs and arms entangled with his, my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He says to me, “We should keep you out of the spotlight.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re paying me to do? Be in the spotlight and make you look good?” I ask, confused.

  “Yeah. But if people you know are in danger of recognizing you, then we shouldn’t risk it. I don’t want to put you in that spot,” he says. “Maybe we’ve already done enough.”

  I frown. Just as I was starting to get into appearing on his arm, as his date. I can’t say I didn’t love being next to him, even just playing his wife. But he’s doing it for me. To keep from exposing me, and to keep me safe. How can I not completely melt? “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I can handle all the press myself.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m falling for you, Lee. I’ve never felt like this before.”

  I roll onto his chest and look up at him, surprised. I knew I was falling. I’d been falling since practically that first day, when he’d poked fun at my name. And I know for sure I’ve never felt this way, but he’s THE Justin Avignon, and he’s been around the block a lot more than I have. “Have you ever been in love?”

  He shakes his head. “Might be hard to believe, but we don’t do love here in the Hills,” he says in what sounds like a fake Southern accent, which makes me snort with laughter. “What about you, and your hot high school sweetheart? Did you love him?”

  He sounds jealous, which is hilarious, considering that my ex is the last person he should be jealous of.

  “I guess. In a way. But I swear, I’d known him since I was twelve. I think the reason the sex wasn’t all that mind-blowing is because we were both so young and inexperienced. And now that I look back, our relationship was a lot more like brother-sister.” I smile, tracing a finger down his breastbone. “I can’t believe you, with all your women, never found one that you loved. How many women are we talking about?”

  He laughs. “You expect me to count?”

  “Well. Most people just know, you know. Because it’s usually not a number in the thousands or anything.”

  “Ah,” he says with a chuckle. “Well, my number is not in the thousands, either. I don’t think.”

  He grins at me. I smack him lightly on the arm.

  “Look,” he says. “I’m thirty-two. I had my first blow job when I was barely eleven, by an extra on the set of one of my mother’s movies. I lost my virginity the day after, to a different woman on the set. After that, it just got out of hand. They all thought I was so cute, and that by bagging me, they could somehow advance their careers. So I might have lost track. But like I said . . . being with you, like this? It’s different. Not just good, different. Phenomenally different. Night and day different.”

  I kiss his chest. “Well, it’s phenomenally different, for me, too,” I say. “For one, you didn’t tell me to get the hell out right after you came.”

  His face grows rigid. “Anyone who’d do that to any woman is an asshole.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Did you even try to let him know? About Brandon?”

  I nod. “I did. I tried to go to his office but he wouldn’t see me. I wrote him a letter, I called him. Then, I finally did get through to him, on his phone. He told me I was probably just another opportunistic slut out for his money and he’d sic his lawyers on me.”

  “Fuck. Why didn’t you get a paternity test ordered?”

  I snort. “Because I don’t know. I thought it would be easier to tell Brandon I don’t know who his father is than to explain that he has a father that rejected him. And I felt stupid, Justin. I felt stupid and ashamed of myself the second I left his house. Like I really didn’t want to face anyone.”

  “Shit, girl. Your parents really turned their back on you after that?”

  I nod. “But I didn’t think I could face them, anyway.”

  “Pardon me, but your parents are fucking assholes. And it’s just been you and Brandon, all this time?”

  I nod again.

  “Jesus. How the hell did you do it?”

  “You do it whatever way you can. Because you have to,” I tell him. “I was in a shelter for a while before I got the job at Rudy’s. My sister also had an apartment while she was going to school, so I stayed with her some of the time. Ava can drive me crazy, but she’s been there for me, at least.”

  “But it had to have been hard. Like, this time of year? The holidays? You had nowhere to go? I mean, I might not have had anyone, a lot of my life, but at least I always had a roof over my head.”

  I shrug. “It was hard, yes, just the two of us. I never minded it that much. But I guess he’s going to as he gets older. Some years, it came between buying presents, or paying rent, and I had to choose rent.”

  He lets out a heavy breath.

  “That’s not right. I know you don’t want to get him confused. But I want to give Brandon a good Christmas. Let me do that?”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “Don’t have to say it came from me. It could be from Santa.”

  I smile. “All right.” Then I flip over onto him, straddling him, and grin down at him. “What’s Santa going to give me?”

  He runs his hands down my back, encircling my waist, and says, “Sorry, sweetheart. You’ve been naughty.” He grins. “At least, I want you to be.”

  Chapter 17

  And then, the big day comes. January Seventh.

  “Nervous?” I ask Justin as we sit in the Grand Ballroom of the Beverly Hilton, waiting for the curtain to go up on the Golden Globes awards.

  “No, we’ve got this,” he says.

  I think he’s right. I have a feeling about this.

  The holidays went by in a blur. I’ve never been happier, even though it’s kind of living a double life. True to his word, Justin did everything he said, and “Santa” arrived in high style, bringing a roomful of presents for Brandon. Then, when I didn’t think it was possible to spoil a kid more, he took him outside and gave him a ride on the garden train. He’d had it fixed so that Brandon could ride it all around the grounds. I’d never seen Brandon so happy.

  At night, we’d all sat around and sang Christmas carols. It was the best Christmas ever.

  Then, at night, when I climbed into bed with Justin, which I’d been doing every night, he presented me with a diamond necklace. “Turns out,” he’d said, kissing me, “You haven’t been quite so naughty after all.”

  I smile now, thinking of it, thinking of everything that’s happened since then. He’d been away for some of the time, for dinners with bigwigs an
d press tours for The Last Door on the Right. I’d followed him on television, listening as more and more people sang his praises. I also loved how he’d often put in a plug for his “wife”, waving at the screen and mouthing, “Hi, Lee” as the show would cut to commercial brake. In a town of a lot of broken hearts, it seemed the whole city was abuzz with how much he clearly adored his other half.

  Me.

  And now, here we are. At the Golden Globes.

  I haven’t been around the Hollywood elite, as just as we arranged, Justin has kept me out of the spotlight. But I feel welcome here, like I belong. Meryl Streep smiles at me, and the rest of the reporters treat me like I’m a part of the A-list. And there’s only one reason for that.

  They see the way that Justin treats me: Like a precious jewel.

  It’s no longer an act. This is the real thing. Like this is a life I could get used to. He doesn’t leave me alone for a second, doesn’t drop my hand, even to sign autographs. He stays close to me and attentive, and even though it’s only the second time I’ve been in a gown, by his side, for a slew of reporters . . . I feel as comfortable as can be.

  As a kid, I dreamed of being at the Hollywood award ceremonies, but nothing quite prepared me for the excitement of it all. The stars, all dressed to the nines. The glamour. The energy. All those years I’d sat on my sofa, watching, I’d eventually ended up bored to tears. But this time, after two hours, when they begin to announce the nominees for Best Director, I’m all abuzz.

  I squeeze Justin’s hand as the announcer reads his name: “Justin Avignon, for The Last Door on the Right.”

  He squeezes back. I can feel the cameras on us, so I lean over, pretend to adjust his tie, and whisper in his ear, “Remember. Don’t trip. All eyes will be on you.”

  He smiles back at me just as the announcer says, “And the Golden Globe for Best Director of a Dramatic film goes to . . .” Dramatic pause. “Justin Avignon.”

  And then . . . I can’t remember. I’m up on my feet, and in his arms, and he’s kissing me to thunderous applause. When he finishes, he leans into my ear, and I can’t be sure, but I think he whispers, “I love you, Lee.”