by Tara Ahmed
He continued to stare out the window, as he threw the phone in a small compartment in his car.
“You two seem really close,” I stated, but wasn’t sure why I cared. I didn’t care. I didn’t.
I felt silly all of a sudden for having said that, for it felt unnecessary for me to know who he was close to and why. I shook my head, placing my hands on my knees, feeling the denim press against my palms.
“Nah, we aren’t close,” he said, still looking out the window. “She’s just someone I could trust with my finances. If I want to buy something worth a few hundred thousand bucks, I ask her first, and she checks the authenticity. She’s like my…money guardian. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Money guardian. Anyway, don’t worry- she’s turning sixty five next year. She’s not exactly a threat.”
A threat? Wait, did he think I was being jealous?
I scoffed, and giggled in a way that was very unlike me, while he turned his head towards me, giving me a small smile.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said. “I was just asking! I’m not…I’m not jealous. I mean, if I was jealous, that would mean that I feel something towards you, and I definitely, most definitely do not. That’s just ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. And, I’m going to go now, so have a pleasant rest of the day—“
He sighed. “Calm down. Geez, I never mentioned you were jealous. That seems insane, even to me. All I said was that she’s not a threat. She’s too old to be. I’ve been with enough girls, to know that a woman doesn’t need to feel attached to a man, to see another woman as a threat. You girls are like animals, you know…very territorial—“
“I’m not territorial,” I objected. “You’re over analyzing.”
He smiled, and then shrugged.
Huffing out a deep breath, I got out the car, closing the door, and walking around it. He rested an arm against the side of the open window, putting on a pair of sleek sun glasses, his brow raised in amusement.
“By the way,” he said. “I need to introduce you to my family tonight. They’ll probably see the paparazzi snapshots by tomorrow, and so I want them to meet you before that. So be ready by 5:30pm. See you later, sweetheart.”
I gaped at him, giving him a stunned stare, wanting to tell him that it’s too soon for me to meet anybody from his side. But before I could object, he gave me a final grin, and drove past the afternoon sky.
Marshmallow white clouds floated in the quilt of the pale blue heavens, as passersby walked with their friends, pets, lovers, or by themselves, enjoying the warm breeze. I watched his car turn the corner, feeling annoyed that he felt the need to tell me about meeting his family on a last minute notice.
I wasn’t ready to meet anybody in regards to this fake marriage, but then again, this whole charade was what I signed up for.
The shelter was brighter today than usual, as yellow, blue, and red streamers outlined the walls, like a birthday party decoration. It was a cafeteria style room, with rows and rows of off white tables, slightly stained with food marks at the edge. The place was filled with the usual people, cheering, their backs facing me, as Carla stood at the end of the room, holding a mike in her plump caramel hands.
“This is unbelievable,” she said, her voice booming through the black mike. “An anonymous donor has just sent us two million dollars! This is true kindness! Let’s all give another cheer for this miracle.”
My heart warmed, as I looked over everyone’s smiling faces, their eyes tearing from being told that they won’t have to live on the street. Carla’s bright eyes shined, as she wiped the falling drops from her chubby, brown cheeks. She glowed, standing in a yellow summer dress that rested a few inches below her knees, making her brown complexion appear milkier. The light from the windows streamed through, as Carla’s kind stare met mine. I had never seen her so happy before, as she ran towards me, swinging her long arms over my back, and squeezing me into a hug.
“Did you hear the good news,” she asked, pulling apart. “Rosefield won’t get closed! We’re saved! It’s all thanks to that generous human being. I was beginning to think that there weren’t many good folks left in this world, but my, did that phone call change my mind. It’s a miracle, isn’t it?”
I nodded- feeling my voice choke in my throat.
“That’s amazing,” I said, dropping my gaze to the ground.
I couldn’t meet her eyes, because I knew that if she found out how this donation came, she wouldn’t ever forgive me. Carla was always so good to me, and if she knew that I had married some random guy just to save this place, she would give back the money. She wouldn’t ever want me to give my life up, not for anything in the world, even if it meant saving this shelter.
“You okay, Dorothy?” Her voice was small, as she placed her hand on my shoulder. “You can come back another day. We’ve got enough people helping out with the food—“
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just…I’m….I’m overwhelmed with this good news, that’s all. I’m really happy.”
Carla’s clear brown eyes searched mine.
“Is there something you’re not telling’ me, honey? You know you can tell me anything.”
I shook my head, smiling.
“I’m alright,” I said. “I’m more than alright actually. I’m happy.”
She smiled. “Always be.”
“Dory!” A familiar squeak perked my ears, as two tiny arms found their way around my waist.
Little Gabriella Johnson skipped around me, standing before me with her black curly head held high. She gave me a toothless grin, her olive skin shining against the streaming light of the window, making her appear nothing short of a Princess.
“I missed you, Dory! It’s been five whole days since you played with me.”
I bent down, so I was standing on my knees, eye level to her.
“School and work has kept me busy,” I explained. “But I promise, I’ll visit more often.”
“Do you want to see what I made at school today? It’s amazing!”
I stood, ruffling the top of her head.
“Show me!” I said. “I can’t wait to see it.”
The afternoon, till evening, went by with me spending time with my friends at the shelter, and drawing pictures with Gabriella. She was the brightest eight-year-old I’d ever met, and though her and her mom stayed in a room at the shelter, she never lost her confidence.
“Will you come again next week, Dory?” Gabriella asked, smiling brightly.
I nodded. “I will.
Wanting to avoid the paparazzi, who I suddenly felt creeping on me wherever I went- I decided to take a taxi home. The cab driver was friendly, making jokes, and telling me I looked a bit familiar. I thanked heaven that he didn’t recognize me, and it made me wonder just how famous James was, since he always ended up on the newspaper. He wasn’t a movie star, that was for sure, and he hadn’t done much for the world for people to be so nosy about him. I guess…he was a celebrity for no reason?
My head began to throb, as I got out the taxi, walking towards my apartment building. Opening the nob, I walk down the long, dimly lit hallway, as the scent of musk hit my nostrils. It was a terrible smell, as I covered my nose, heading to my door, and taking out the key from my bag.
When I opened the door, April’s yell hit my ears, as I entered, closing the door behind me. Her bright purple hair was tied in a loose bun over her head, as she stood before the sky blue curtain against the window.
“Get down from there this instant, Plunky!” she yelled, staring at curtain railing. “You have to eat! Oh…Dorothy! What’s wrong? You look so pale—“
“I married him.” My voice came as a quiet whisper- as I exhaled a deep sigh. “I did it this morning. I’m…I’m married now. But, it’s a long story, and I’m really tired. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
April nodded, giving me a sympathetic smile.
“A package came for you,” she said. “I didn’t open it, but the wrapping is really fancy. What did you buy?�
��
I furrowed my brows, not quite understanding what she was talking about. But then, in an instant, realization struck me like a bullet to the head, as I recalled James mentioning a dinner that he wanted me ready for by 5:30. Snapping my head at the ceiling clock, my eyes bulged, as I realized I had only five minutes left to get ready.
Running past April, who was focused once more on her imaginary pet, I entered my bedroom, standing before the sleek black box. It rested on my bed, with a pale pink ribbon around it, ready to be opened.
Knowing I didn’t have much time, I threw open the box, glanced briefly at the knee length, grey, cap sleeved dress, and undressed myself. It took me a second to throw it on, and I was surprised that it was a perfect fit. Walking to the mirror, I gave my hair a quick brush, wore my favorite cherry lipstick, and walked out my room, and towards the door.
I gave April a goodnight wave, as she wished me all the best, and continued yelling at Plunky.
My heart thumped in my chest, and I didn’t know why I felt nervous, but perhaps it was because I would have to keep up an act in front of strangers who presumed I was married to their son.
Taking a deep breath, I twisted the knob which felt icy against my palm, as it creaked open.
I yelped, my eyes bulging at the man before me.
The music of my heart intensified, as I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to stop it from heaving so heavily.
James stood before me, his arms resting in his black trouser pockets, as he stood in a crisp white dress shirt with a shiny red tie. His brown eyes twinkled, as he stared me up and down, looking pleased.
“Are you coming barefoot?” he asked.
I blinked slowly, before turning my eyes to my feet, which stood naked against the cold tile floor.
“Oh,” I said. “I forgot. Give me a second while I find my shoes—“
“Don’t take too long, Princess,” he said, sounding amused. “My family is waiting for you, and trust me, they’re so excited to meet you…but I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s a good thing.”
“What do you mean?”
He grinned wickedly. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Chapter Seven
To say I was nervous- would be an understatement.
My hands clenched and unclenched under my thighs, as I stared out the window of James’s car, watching the evening horizon dim to a deep lavender. The warm winds kissed my cheeks, as I exhaled a deep breath, wanting my heart to still its tumultuous beat.
“You gonna puke?” asked James. “You look like you’re about to any second now.”
I turned towards him, my eyes narrowed at his carefree posture. One hand rested on his thigh, while the other lazily drove on the highway, his head nodding to a chirpy pop song from the radio.
“I can’t do this,” I said. “I can’t lie to all of them and pretend like I’m in love with you. This is wrong—“
He chuckled. “It’s a bit too late to object. You signed the papers. And besides, we need each other. Anyways, you should see this whole pretending to love me act, as a kind of school project. You’re an acting major, so this’ll be fun for you. Chill out--”
I snapped my eyes to his.
“How did you know that?” I asked. “That I’m an acting major. How did you?—“
He rolled his eyes. “Quit being a kid. I obviously did some research.”
“Right,” I said. “That’s kind of creepy.”
He laughed. “Is it?”
His smile extended in an upward curl, his lips parted, revealing a wide grin, as the evening light gave his teeth a pearlescent glow. The warm winds brushed back his loose bangs, which danced over perfectly arched brows. His lips, full and inviting, pursed together in a line, and when my gaze rose to meet his milky brown stare, I blinked.
“You want to wipe that water off your mouth, sweetheart? You’re drooling.”
My cheeks reddened, as I looked away, feeling my heart drum loudly. I had no idea why I was staring at him, but something about his face was so unnerving, that I didn’t want to look away. Of course, I would never admit that to him- his ego was big enough.
“You have something on your nose,” I lied. “It’s disgusting. I wasn’t staring at you. I was staring at…your…booger.”
I cringed. I hadn’t used that word since I was ten, and it was really the stupidest word on the planet, but there I was, using it. Was my brain taking a break today or something?
I glanced towards him, and frowned when he began to laugh, almost choking in the process.
“You’re cute,” he said, laughing. “Oh, I forgot to mention. There are a few people you need to know before actually meeting them. Hold on.”
I stared blankly, as he took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, throwing it at me. The paper landed on my lap, and before the wind could whisk it away, I picked it up, opening it. Holding the sheet in both hands, I stared at the contents, looking over pictures of seven strangers, who sat on the white document, gaping at me.
“Who are they?” I asked, looking over the document once more.
He exhaled a deep breath. “The person on the very top- is my grandmother, Gweneth Bellevue, but if she likes you, she’ll demand that you call her carrot. She loves carrots- that’s the only explanation I have for that ridiculous nick name. The person below her- is my father, Edmund Bellevue, and if he likes you, you probably will never know it. You see, he invented the word ‘poker face’. Not literally, but you know what I mean. The lady below him is his wife, Rosaline Bellevue, but was once known as Rosaline Rogers, from another marriage. She’s my stepmother. There’s not much to say about her, except that she’s like an expired piece of cake. On the outside, she’s all sweet, but then, when you get to the inside, you realize she’s rotten. Steer clear of her, Dorothy. Anyways, moving on. See that guy just below her, he’s Rosaline’s son, Tate Rogers. He’s an alright guy, but keeps mostly to himself. I think he studies art in some community college, but I’m not sure. He’s a weird one. The one below him- is Bethany Rogers, Rosaline’s daughter, and someone I care for. I’d do anything for that brat. She’s a freshman in high school, and I hate it. She’s growing up too quick…anyways, forget that. The last and final person on that list- is George Bellevue, my Grandfather. There’s not much to say about him, except that he’s a nice, square, decent guy. He has a drinking problem though, and I’m not referring to alcohol. He loves mango juice, and drinks too much of it. The doctor told him to stop, but we all know he sneaks a drink every other day when he can get away with it. Anyways, getting back to the point…when they ask you how we met, tell them it was love at first sight or something equally sappy. Make up a story if you want. Got it?”
He spoke slowly the entire time, as though speaking to a child, and I listened, soaking the words in like a sponge. I took his words in with a grain of salt, because he had to be exaggerating about some of the stuff he said, like comparing his stepmother to expired cake.
“You believe in love at first sight?” I asked, not really thinking about the question, but just spitting it out because I didn’t know what else to say.
“What does it matter what I believe?” he asked, smiling. “Do you want me to believe in it?”
Huh? What did that mean?
I gave him a puzzled look, and rested my hands over my thighs, not knowing how to reply. His question had swallowed my tongue in such a way, that I decided it was best to not say anything at all.
His folks lived in one of those mansions that people like me only got to admire from the TV screen, or within a car, marveling at its luxury as we passed it by. The Long Island neighborhood was silent, as the sunset dipped over the skies, creating an orange radiance over the aisle of tall houses, and golden gates. A few teens hung out in their front yards, as I got out the car, observing the privileged neighborhood.
“Must have been nice to grow up here,” I stated, more to myself than to him.
He walked around the parked car, wrapping
his hand over mine, causing me to jump. I almost snapped my hand back, but stopped when he gave me a look that said “time to act.” My hand laid limp in his, passive against his flesh, as we headed down the grey pavement, towards the two story, white mansion.
“It was great when my mother was around,” he admitted.
His happy eyes had turned grim, as the veins in his temple throbbed. We walked through the ten foot sparkling golden gate, which for some reason- was open wide, as though waiting for our arrival. I would have gaped at the beauty of the mansion, but his pensive expression bore a hole in my chest, and I couldn’t look away. He looked so sad, and without realizing, I squeezed my palm against his.
He didn’t notice. At least, I don’t think he did, for he gave no response. He merely stared ahead, with that sad look in his eyes.
“If you don’t mind me asking…where’s your mom?”
A brisk wind passed between us, as his eyes turned towards me, shooting me a cold stare. Yanking his hand off of mine, he leaned down, so that our eyes were at level to each other. I shivered at his gaze, and realized that whatever I had said- was definitely the wrong thing to say.
“I do mind you asking,” he hissed. “Let’s get one thing straight, Princess…I’m not going to fall for you, so don’t think that by asking me personal questions, you can get closer to me. You can’t. What we have going here, is a business deal. You do your end of the deal, and I do mine. I don’t care if there was a gun pointed to your fucking head, don’t you dare ask me anything, and I mean anything, concerning my personal life. Don’t get on my bad side, Dorothy. I will destroy you, and I will not feel bad about it, because I don’t give a damn about you. I need you, just like you need me. That’s it. End of. So please, keep the personal questions to yourself. Are we clear?”
