The Boyfriend Swap

by Meredith Schorr

  He laughed. “Good. What’s the plan for tonight?”

  I sat back down. “We always celebrate Hanukkah on Christmas Eve. Just a traditional dinner. It’s really informal. I hope it’s okay.”

  “Of course. But I’ve been texting some of the guys from high school and a bunch of them are planning to go to Billy Murphy’s tonight. You game for meeting them after dinner?”

  “Sure. I should text James.” I needed to catch him up on the boyfriend swap and beg him not to cause a scene when he saw Will and me together. I jumped out of my chair. “Be right back.”

  I raced up the stairs and after closing my bedroom door behind me, I scrolled for James’s name on my phone. He answered on the first ring. “Thank God. I was going crazy with Robyn withdrawal.”

  “You could have called me first,” I said with a chuckle as I realized how much I truly missed my oldest and dearest friend.

  “Yeah, sorry. Yesterday was hectic, but I was about to call you. I swear.”

  Twirling a tendril of still-damp hair around my finger, I said, “You free tonight? A bunch of people from high school are going to Billy Murphy’s.”

  “Like who?”

  I cleared my throat. “I have to tell you something and you might die.”

  “Please don’t joke about my mortality, Robyn.”

  “I’m serious. You might want to sit down for this.”

  “I’d rather do the Whip and Nae Nae with my favorite dance partner.”

  I squeaked out a laugh as my heart exploded in my chest. “James.”

  “Relax. My butt is officially in a chair. Spill.”

  “Guess who’s in my kitchen right now?”

  “Lisa Lisa? Brenda K. Starr?” James loved to tease that my parents’ list of Facebook friends would be really impressive if it were 1985.

  “Will Brady,” I whispered.

  “I didn’t hear you. Will to Power?”

  Raising my voice one level, I said, “Will Brady.”

  “Will Brady? Did you say Will Brady is in your kitchen?”

  I nodded until I realized he couldn’t see me through the phone. “Yes. And he slept in my bed last night.”

  “YOU SLEPT WITH WILL BRADY LAST NIGHT?”

  As James’s scream pierced my eardrums, I held the phone away from my ear. “Only in the literal sense. We slept together, but we didn’t sleep together. Keep your voice down. I don’t want him to hear you.” I opened my door a crack and peered down the hallway. There was no sign of Will, so I closed the door again.

  “Why is this news to me, Robyn Taylor Lane?”

  Wincing at the use of my full name—inspired by another eighties music icon, Taylor Dayne—I said, “I’ll tell you everything. Try not to interrupt me until I’m finished.”

  James miraculously remained silent as I relayed the whole story. I left out the part where I ogled Will while he slept.

  When I was finished, James said, “You’re right, I’m this close to a heart attack.” He whistled through his teeth. “Wow.”

  “I know, right?” It was freeing somehow to finally confide in someone who would truly understand the enormity of the situation. James used to hate playing “If you could have sex with anyone in the world, who would it be?” with me, because while he switched things up through the years—sometimes it was Orlando Bloom, for a while it was the substitute gym teacher, and then his crush on John Stamos was legendary—my answer was always Will Brady. He’d never admit it because I called dibs, but I knew James also crushed on Will for a while too.

  “Are you still in love with him?”

  “Of course not. And I wasn’t ‘in love’ with him. It was an innocent crush. I moved on years ago, and I’m taken. But guess what? Perry might land an agent out of all this.” My lips curled up at the thought. Noting James’s silence, I said, “You there?”

  “Shh. I’m enjoying a moment of silence for Perry. You have great taste in men, Robyn.”

  I chuckled. “Tell that to my parents.”

  “I’m sure your mom agrees Perry’s one gorgeous piece of man beef. She just wishes he came dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit instead of black t-shirts and jeans that fall dangerously low on his hips.”

  “I’m going to have to tell them the truth at some point.”

  “Not if you fall back in love with Will.”

  “It wasn’t love, James. And Will already has a girlfriend anyway.” Whether it was “serious” yet was irrelevant.

  “Psst. Sidney’s got nothing on you.”

  “You’ve never seen her. She looks like Adrienne.”

  “No way.”

  “They both have red hair.” Aside from the hair, they actually looked nothing alike, but I’d bet Adrienne used a blow dryer and flatiron too.

  “You can have red hair if you want.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Good. You’re gorgeous, sweetie. If Will Brady doesn’t want to park his car in Robyn Lane, he should have his license revoked.”

  “Thanks. But it doesn’t matter anyway. We’re just pretending.” At the sound of knocking on my door, I said, “Come in” and smiled at Will. Pointing to my phone, I mouthed, “James.” Into the phone, I said, “Billy Murphy’s later then?”

  “Is he there?” James whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “One more question and I’ll let you go.”

  Pacing the room, I said, “Shoot.”

  “Does he sleep in the buff?”

  I gulped, remembering my genuine struggle to keep my eyes from wandering in the direction of Will’s boxer shorts the night before. Facing the wall, I said, “Probably between eight and nine. I’ll text you.” I ended the call and when I turned back around, I almost banged right into Will. He was holding a change of clothes and a toiletry bag. “Is now a good time to shower?”

  An image of Will with water dripping down his naked body flashed before my eyes, and I bit back shame. “Sure. Let me get you some towels.”

  Chapter 9

  Sidney

  “Here,” Perry said, placing a large coffee cup next to me.

  “What’s this for?” With one last sip, I finished off the Americano I’d bought for myself. Then I moved the fresh cup closer to me before continuing to type out an email to my paralegal. I didn’t expect her to read it on Christmas Eve, but at least it would be off my plate.

  I heard Perry say, “You guys using this?” and a moment later, a chair squeaked as he sat down across from me at the small table in the Starbucks I’d been hiding in for the last thirty minutes. “Peace offering.”

  “Are we at war?” I pressed “send” on the email and looked up at Perry. I was hoping the time-out from my fake boyfriend would last longer than a half hour.

  He shrugged. “You tell me. You didn’t speak to me at all on the ride here, and then you ran off on your own the second you got out of the car. I circled the mall three times before finding you here.”

  “I was taught if I didn’t have something nice to say, not to say anything.”

  He tousled my hair. “Sweet Cherry Bomb. What could I possibly have done to annoy you now?”

  Wiggling away from him, I hissed, “Why don’t you ask me in an Irish brogue? Rumor has it you’re great at accents.” I went back to reading my emails with half concentration.

  “Are you always this uptight, Sidney Bean?”

  I clenched my jaw. “Stop it with the nicknames, Perry. I’m not in the mood.”

  He snorted. “Are you ever? For Will’s sake, I sure hope so. Unless he’s into the frigid type,” he muttered.

  Slamming my laptop shut, I said, “I’ll have you know I rock Will’s world. Frigidity is not a problem.”

  Perry smirked. “I see I’ve hit a nerve.”

  Suddenly too exhausted to argue, I rested my head in my hands and mum
bled, “This whole boyfriend swap is not going as I planned.”

  “And clearly you blame me. Why?”

  I raised my head as my annoyance got a second wind. “Why do you think?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” Appearing bored, he glanced around the cafe.

  I followed his eyes, noting how many of the female patrons were gawking at him. “Is it necessary to suck all the energy out of every room you’re in?”

  He whipped his head back toward me. “What are you talking about?”

  “All of your stupid stories. First last night and now this morning. My mom is acting like a schoolgirl in puppy love and my dad has made you his pet project. The whole idea of the swap was to avoid my parents taking any interest in you whatsoever.”

  Perry scratched at his thick hair. “I thought you didn’t want to bring Will because you were afraid your dad would either insult or recruit him. Aside from name dropping all of his famous clients over the years, your dad’s so fascinated by me, he’s barely mentioned work.” He paused. “You’re welcome.”

  Perry was correct. As far as he was concerned, the plan was working. I pressed my fingers to my temple. I had no desire to make Perry my confidante, but maybe if he understood, he’d stop being such an infuriating pain in the ass. If Snow White liked him, he must be a decent guy. “I wasn’t completely honest with you guys about my motivations for the swap.”

  Leaning forward with interest, Perry said, “Secrets. I like ’em.”

  I rolled my eyes but went on to explain why it was so important to me to keep my parents out of my personal business. “Every moment of my working life is documented within one sixth of the hour, and all my father needs to do is review my billable hours to be privy to every move I make during the day. I like being a lawyer, and having my last name in gilded lettering on the frosted entryway to the firm adds to my ambition and desire to be brilliant at it. Working with my dad I can live with. But if I give my parents any leeway into my personal life, it’s over. They’ll suffocate me. That’s the real reason I didn’t want to bring Will home with me. He’s the only thing I have that’s all mine and if they meet him, it will all be ruined.” I choked back a tear. “Do you understand?”

  Perry’s eyebrows squished together. “Not even a little bit. Will isn’t here. I am. Mission accomplished. You can keep Will as your dirty little secret.”

  Shaking my head, I argued, “My dad doesn’t know it’s not real and wasted no time putting his mark on my territory. He was supposed to be bored by you, not impressed.” I smirked. “And don’t even pretend you’re not loving every second of it.”

  Perry snickered. “In what universe would an actor turn down a generous offer for an introduction to an agent?”

  “You don’t get it. My parents love you, which means they’ll wonder why I never mention you again after this weekend. They’ll ask how things are progressing between us, and do you want to join us on a family holiday to the Berkshires? And when I tell them we’ve broken up, they won’t let it go. It took them years to recover from losing Jake. You’re the first boyfriend I’ve brought home since him. I thought they’d ignore you.”

  “Impossible,” Perry said, looking smug, but then his facial expression softened. “I get it, and I’m sorry, but it’s too little too late. What do you expect me to do now?”

  I frowned. “Stop being so…”

  Perry licked his lower lip. “Irresistible? Charming?”

  “Maddening is more like it.” I sighed with exaggeration. “Can you just not be so friendly with my parents? They’re not your future in-laws.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to be added to the will.” He rubbed his hands together. “Although, the things I could do with some of the Bellows money…”

  I glared at him.

  He chuckled. “Sorry, Cherry, but I’m not going to hide in a corner all weekend to avoid your family liking me, especially if it means missing out on a career opportunity. Maybe you should have been honest from the start about the role you wanted me to play, but the truth is, I never would have agreed to come along if I knew you expected me to shy away from the spotlight. It’s not who I am.”

  “Not the spotlight. Just my parents.” I held my breath.

  He stood up. “Text me when you’re ready to go.” Then he turned his back, completely oblivious to the fact that every woman in the room, including me, was watching him as he walked out of the coffee shop.

  Except I was pretty sure the rest of them were staring at his ass while I was already planning my next move. I’d tried to reason with him—I’d practically begged—and he refused to play nice. As far as I was concerned, Perry had declared war.

  Robyn

  “Thanks for coming with me,” I said to Will over the loud din of the Gallery at Market East. “One of my New Year’s resolutions each year is to buy all my Christmas and Hanukkah presents before Thanksgiving, or at least before Christmas Eve, and yet, here I am.”

  “You’re in good company,” Will said, lifting his chin toward the crowd of people we were following like sheep. “The trick to making New Year’s resolutions is to choose ones that can be implemented immediately. You’re setting yourself up for failure if you set goals almost a year ahead of time.”

  “An expert at New Year’s resolutions, are you?” I teased, bumping my arm against Will’s playfully.

  As we shuffled along as quickly as possible given the traffic, Will said, “Yes, Grimm’s fairytales and New Year’s resolutions are my areas of expertise.”

  “Just Snow White though, right?”

  He turned to me and grinned. “The only one that counts. Where to first?”

  “The place I’m most likely to find something for everyone. I bought the big stuff online, but I completely forgot about the stocking stuffers.”

  “I know just the place, but if we want to make it home for Hanukkah dinner, we need to make our New York City aggression work for us.” Grabbing my hand, he said, “Follow me.” Not releasing his strong grip, he weaved us through the crowd past Foot Locker, Old Navy, and Burlington Coat Factory, until we arrived at our destination—Big Kmart.

  A few minutes later, I held up a treble clef picture frame. “James would love this.”

  Will nodded his approval. “You can put a picture of you guys from high school inside,” he suggested.

  “Great idea. I already know which picture I’ll use.”

  “Which one?”

  “One year, we dressed up as Cheri Oteri and Will Ferrell as the Spartan cheerleaders from the Saturday Night Live skit. I still have a picture of us in my bedroom here.” My heart warmed at the memory. “It was outdated, but we liked to be retro.” Many kids stopped dressing up for the holiday in high school aside from weekend Halloween parties, where the girls dressed as scantily as possible. The theater kids, like James and me, wore our costumes to school on Halloween every year until graduation and spent weeks brainstorming ideas. One year, we were Elton John and Kiki Dee and did a performance of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” in the hallway. Another year, we were Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney.

  “I remember that.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “The costume or our retro tendencies?”

  He laughed. “Both, actually.”

  “Did you think we were weird?”

  Will’s eyes opened wide. “No. I—”

  When my phone rang, I grabbed my cell from my purse and said, “Sorry” to Will.

  He shook his head and whispered, “No worries” before examining a baseball-shaped photo frame.

  I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  From the other side of the phone, I heard, “Miss…Miss Lane?” followed by a sniffle.

  “Yes, this is Robyn Lane. Who’s this?” I asked gently, since whoever it was on the other end sounded like she was crying.

  “It’s me, Aimee. I�
��m sorry to bother you.” She breathed heavily.

  Frowning into the phone, I said, “It’s no bother. What’s wrong?” Although I wondered how she got my number, I was more concerned by the reason for her call.

  “I went to the doctor yesterday. My mom said it wasn’t nice to call you on your holiday, but I didn’t listen. Don’t hate me.”

  “I could never hate you.” At that, Will turned around, his eyebrows drawn together. I shrugged helplessly and stepped to the side to avoid other shoppers overhearing the conversation. “What did the doctor say?” My stomach tightened in the realization it was probably bad news if Aimee was crying, but I held out hope she was overreacting as children tended to do.

  “I have pulps on my vocal chords and need voice therapy.” The sounds of sobbing reverberated through the phone. “I won’t be able to sing in the spring concert.”

  I assumed she meant “polyps,” which meant she was right about missing the concert. In a worst-case scenario, she might never be able to sing again. And I was the naïve music teacher who told her she probably just needed to rest her voice. I moved the phone away from my ear and muttered, “Crap,” but as Aimee continued to cry, I knew I had to do something. “Listen to me, Aimee,” I said, as an idea brewed in my noggin.

  “Yes?”

  “I know how much you love to sing, and the very last thing you ever want is for someone to say you can’t.” Way to state the obvious, Ms. Lane.

  “Uh-huh,” Aimee said sadly.

  I pictured Aimee on the other end of the phone, convinced her life was over, and willed myself not to give into her sadness. “I’ll need details from your mom, but if you’re in voice therapy, you’re probably right about not singing in the spring concert this year.”

  “I know!” she wailed.

  I silently prayed what I was about to say would provide a modicum of relief. “I love to sing too. And when I was your age, my favorite part of school was the concerts. Like you, I was chosen for a lot of solos. Now, as the teacher, I can’t sing with you guys, and I miss it so much.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Lane.”

  I was touched by her sympathy for me during her own struggle and even more determined to provide her a diamond in the rough. “Not your fault, sweetie, but thanks. Anyway, I might not be able to sing, but I get to do the next best thing. You know what that is?”