Pretend Daddy: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Amy Brent

  I was going to be just fine, and I could still give Amber a space for her dance studio. If she was serious about it, that would help with rent and operating costs, too.

  I took out my phone and called Amber as I stood in the entryway of my new life, but she didn’t pick up. I tried calling again, but the phone just rang and rang. She wasn’t shooting me to voicemail, so maybe she was just busy, but I got the distinct feeling that something was still wrong.

  That’s when my mind began to whirl. What if I’d just lost my best friend? What If I’d just lost the woman I loved? What if she really didn’t feel the way I felt, and I’d just thrown away my chances at being successful in life? At sticking it to my parents?

  Shit.

  I jogged to my car and drove by Amber’s apartment, but I didn’t see her car. The lights were off in her place, and there wasn’t a shadow moving around behind the curtain. I headed back to the hotel room, white-knuckling the steering wheel as my head spun with all that had happened, and as I shoved my shoulder into the hotel door, a thought popped into my head.

  Should I really be staying here in LA?

  What was here for me if Amber wasn’t?

  Sure, there was a business, but it was a business I’d have to rebuild. I wouldn’t be turning a profit for at least a year, if not two, and I’d be living above the business in some rusted out apartment. I wouldn’t be able to put the money into finishing the apartment until I was turning a profit, which meant I had to stare at exposed walls and sleep on an air mattress.

  Amber wouldn’t stay with someone like that. Amber couldn’t love someone like that.

  Hell, I couldn’t even love someone like that.

  And as I caught my form in the mirror, haggard and sunken in from the stress of the past few days, I finally let my guard down. I allowed the tears of frustration to overflow my eyes in the loneliness of this hotel room before I sat on the edge of the bed and cried.

  The bed that still smelled like her.

  Chapter 22

  Amber

  “Are you fucking serious!?” I yelled.

  “We told you what we needed you to do,” my father said. “This family needed you to step up and be a woman. To step up and take one for the team. And you went behind our backs and did the one thing we told you not to do.”

  “All I did was fucking register a company name for my dance studio!” I exclaimed.

  “What is it with you and this frivolous dream?” my mother asked. “We told you when you started college that we’d allow you to major in dance on one condition. You’d come back and run the family business to pay back the education we paid for so you could pursue some idiotic dream.”

  “And that’s what I’m doing, Mom. Pursuing my ‘idiotic dream,’” I said.

  “You made us a promise, and you broke that promise,” my father said. “There are consequences when you do that.”

  “This is such bullshit. How the hell could you allow Luke to go and follow his dreams and then stick me with something that makes me completely miserable? How is that fair?” I asked.

  “Your brother is a successful businessman.”

  “But we didn’t know he was going to turn out like that!” I yelled. “We didn’t know he was going to succeed when he took off for New York City. You guys trusted him! Why can’t you trust me?”

  “We tried. When you made us that promise, we did trust you. And you broke that trust when you registered your business name,” my father said.

  “And how the hell did you even figure out I had?” I asked.

  “Our PI, sweetheart,” my mother said.

  I was stunned. Rooted to the ground. My parents had a private investigator following me? They kept some bitch on retainer? What the hell was wrong with my family? What kind of mental mafia-family movie was I born into?

  “You had a detective follow me?” I asked.

  “At first, it was just to keep you safe. When we saw you’d be safe at college, it stopped in favor of other things having to do with the production business. But, when you started talking about opening your own dance studio, I directed his attention back to you,” my father said.

  “You’ve fucking had me followed?” I said. “Do you not realize how absolutely insane that is? People have been permanently committed to asylums in this country for less!”

  “Your father isn’t crazy, he’s just protective. He built that business from nothing, and his ungrateful daughter isn’t even willing to fulfill her promise to take it over. We gave you a bargain: work until you’ve paid off what we put into your pointless schooling, and then you can go do whatever you wish,” my mother said.

  “Pointless? Ungrateful? Do you even hear yourselves? Do you even taste the disgusting double-standard flying from your mouth? I do not want to run the company. I want to open my own dance studio. I do not need your help to do it. Did you even give Luke this choice?” I asked.

  “No, because he majored in something practical,” my father said.

  “You two are the most insane human beings I’ve ever encountered,” I said.

  “I don’t know how in the world I raised such an ungrateful daughter, but no more,” my mother said. “You’re done.”

  “Done? What the hell does that mean, ‘I’m done’?” I asked.

  “You’re cut off,” my father said.

  I panned my gaze over to him and looked him in his eyes. Had Luke talked to them anyway? Had he somehow planned this? Was this my punishment for fucking his best friend? My phone had been vibrating in my back pocket during the entire conversation, but I couldn’t pick it up. If I did, I’d lose the only chance I had to try and talk some sense into my parents. I couldn't allow the constant vibrations to distract me from what I was trying to do.

  Was this my punishment for caring about Tyler?

  “What?” I asked breathlessly.

  “You think you can do this without us, then that’s fine. Your credit cards were cut off this morning, and your phone no longer works. Well, it won’t after today,” my mother said.

  “What?” I asked flatly.

  “You said so yourself: you can do this without us. Luke couldn’t even do it without us, honey. We gave him a loan for his business to get started, and he paid us back when he could.”

  “Then why the fuck can’t you do that for me, Daddy!” I screamed. “Why can’t you provide me with a loan so I can open my own fucking business just like Luke?”

  “Because people need food, Amber,” my mother said. “Just like people will always need entertainment. Your father and brother built a business that is powered by nothing else but our country’s own consumerism tendencies. Food is a necessity, especially if it’s good food, and entertainment will always be needed to pull people out of their miserable life and toss them into an exciting distraction for a while. But dance isn’t a demand product. It’s a hobby, sweetheart.”

  “This town has dozens of dance studios scattered within it and around it. You’re not giving them something they don’t already have. We’re just trying to save you from failure, honey,” my father said.

  “No, what you’re trying to do is control me. Just like Luke has been trying to control me,” I said.

  “What has Luke been doing, honey?” my mother asked.

  “Stop talking to me like I’m some wounded toddler throwing a tantrum!” I exclaimed.

  “Then stop addressing us like one,” my father said.

  “You’re really cutting me off?” I asked. “You’re letting me walk out of this house without a way to contact me by phone? You’re allowing your daughter to be homeless just to exert your control over me?”

  “It’s not control. Like your father said, You made us a promise, and you broke it. There are consequences to your actions,” my mother said.

  “Oh no. Let’s get one thing straight right now: consequences for breaking a promise are things like lectures, timeouts, and groundings. Not eviction, starvation, and lack of contact,” I said. “Do you realize you are do
ing this all because I registered a business name? What if I wanted to hold onto it until I was done working? What if I wanted to reserve it for a later time? You are blowing this completely out of proportion over four pieces of paperwork that were filed over the weekend!”

  “Are you going to come work for the company like you promised?” my father asked.

  In that moment, I realized I wasn’t going to win. If my dream meant that much to me, I was going to have to do it on my own. I was going to have to live in my car or some bullshit while I made this happen. There was nothing I could say to my parents that would get them to change their minds. They were holding over my head a promise I made to them when I was seventeen years old. A promise I was making without having any idea of the ramifications. They knew what they were doing. They all knew how manipulative they were being, and if I wanted to break the chains my family had tried to shackle me in, this was what it was going to take.

  “No, Daddy,” I said. “I am not.”

  “Then it’s out of my hands,” he said.

  “It’s always been in your hands. Ron,” I said breathlessly. “You just choose to take this route because you’re pissed that one day you’ll be gone and neither one of your kids took up your same passion.”

  “You will not address your father by his first name,” my mother said.

  “Darlene. I’ll call you by ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ when you both start acting like one. The only thing that matters to you two is legacy, and if it was up to Darlene over here the only legacy I’d have would be the children I’d pump out after marrying rich. It’s not out of your hands, Ron. You’ve just chosen control over caring about your daughter,” I said.

  “I’ve always cared—”

  I didn’t allow him to finish the sentence before I turned on my heels and stormed toward the front door. I stooped down to pick up my purse on the way out.

  I didn’t want to hear their lies about how they loved me and cared about me, and how they only wanted what was best for me. The vile they just spewed at me showed me exactly where they stood on my dreams, and I was more determined than ever to make them happen. I’d do it all without their help, without a loan from them or any of that bullshit. Then I could lord it over their heads. I could tell my brother I did it without their help while he needed help, and I could write my parents off forever.

  I got into my car and raced down the road. My mind was swirling at a thousand miles a second as numbers started flying through my head. My car payment wasn’t too big, but I could trade it in and get something less expensive without payments. If I could snag a car big enough, I could live out of it and save the money on rent and bills. I could get a cheap prepaid cell phone to register as a temporary business phone until I got up and running. My credit was alright which meant I had a decent shot at getting a loan with an interest rate that wouldn’t fuck me in the ass.

  At that moment, I remembered my phone had been vibrating. It had happened throughout the entire conversation, so I raised up off my ass to dig it out of my pocket. I had to contact Tyler and let him know what was happening, so if he tried to call me he wouldn’t be pissed when I didn’t pick up. But I quickly discovered my phone wasn’t there.

  “Fuck!” I yelled.

  I whipped a U-turn in the middle of the road and sped back toward the house. It must’ve fallen out of my back pocket as I was storming out of the house, and I knew damn good and well my parents weren’t going to give that thing back to me. It still wasn’t paid off with the phone company, but it was worth a shot.

  I had to get in touch with Tyler somehow, and I didn’t have his number memorized.

  I pulled up into the driveway and left the car running as I slammed through the front door. I looked around on the floor before back-tracking into the kitchen, and I saw my mother sitting there at the table twirling it between her fingers.

  “Give me my phone,” I said.

  “It’s not your phone. We’re still paying on it,” she said.

  “You said it wasn’t cut off until tonight. I just have one phone call I need to make,” I said.

  “Too bad,” she said.

  “Fine, then just let me get the number, and I’ll make a call from the gas station. Come on, Mom. This is getting ridiculous,” I said.

  “Oh, so I’m Mom again when you need something?” she asked.

  “No. I’ve always needed you, and you’ve never been there. Now, I’m giving you one last shot to give me one simple thing I need: a number,” I said.

  “Then tell me whose number you want, and I’ll read it out to you,” she said.

  “I’m not giving you the password to that phone.” If I did, she would see all my text messages and phone calls with Tyler, and that was not an argument I was ready to have. I didn’t have the energy to defend my studio and my relationship all in one day.

  “Then, I guess you don’t get it,” she said.

  “Fine. I don’t need you anyway,” I said.

  I stormed back out of the house. My hands were shaking, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I knew Tyler would know what to do. If I could just get to him and tell him what was going on, he would help me come up with a plan. My mind was spinning as I made my way to his hotel room, and I came to a screeching halt in a parking space before I made my way into the lobby.

  I zoomed right by the desk and up to his room where I proceeded to knock on his door, but when no sound happened behind it, I started to bang.

  “Tyler! It’s me. Can you please open up?”

  I banged and banged. I pounded so hard people began poking their heads out of their own rooms. The door began to rattle, and my hand began to ache. Tears began to stream down my face.

  “Tyler, please!” I shrieked.

  I slammed the door with my knee, and when that didn’t work I kicked it hard. Where the hell had he gone? Where was he? How long would it be before he came back?

  “Tyler, please,” I said, sobbing.

  I pressed my forehead against the door as I slowly fell to my knees. Snot poured down my face as my chest began to hiccup, and suddenly my world crashed in around me. I had no family, I had no friends. I had no brother, and I had no money. I had no cell phone to call for help, and in a few weeks, I wouldn’t even have an apartment to call home.

  And now, I didn’t have Tyler.

  “Miss?” someone asked.

  I tried to compose myself, turning my head to see the attendant kneeling next to me, and he reached out his hand to rub my back.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  “The—the guy who was in this—this room. Where is he? When is he coming back?” I said between sobs and gasps for breath as I wiped my face.

  “Mr. Raymond?” he asked.

  “Uh huh,” I said.

  “Mr. Raymond checked out about an hour ago. I’m so sorry. Is there someone I could call for you?”

  No. There was no one he could call for me because I had no one. And even if I did have someone, I didn’t know their number. I didn’t know Tyler’s number or Luke’s. I didn’t know Kelly’s or home’s. I had no important phone numbers memorized for anyone to call anyone else for me.

  “No. No thanks,” I said.

  “Come on. Let me help you to your car,” he said.

  I got back out to my car and cleaned myself up before I hit the road. The only place I had to go was home, and I might as well stay there because, in three and a half weeks, I would be done. I figured I could call the front desk and tell them what was going on to see if I could lessen the monetary penalty that would come my way when my lease was eventually broken, but I didn’t have a phone to call them with.

  In the span of a weekend, my entire world had completely imploded. I lost my brother, I lost my family, I lost my home, and I lost Tyler. The dreams of my dance studio now seemed to pale in comparison to the fact that I didn’t know how I was going to live, especially on the part-time job I kept in town. The truth of the matter was, my parents paid for a great deal. They d
id that under the assumption that I’d take over the family business. I gallivanted around town and ran up their credit cards, and they kept their mouths shut because I had a path I was supposed to eventually follow.

  Now, I had nothing. They had pulled everything to teach me a lesson, to get me to come crawling back to them. And while there was a part of me that was fueled by my anger to succeed, there was a part of me that knew it would just be easier if I did.