The Boyfriend Swap

by Meredith Schorr

  I stared after him with my mouth ajar. What was with the ’tude?

  “He’s really something, Sidney. Think about how gorgeous your children will be.”

  I turned my attention away from Perry’s rushed voyage to refill his drink and back to my aunt. Forcing a chuckle, I said, “Let’s not get carried away. We’re a long way from having kids.” As in, maybe in another life.

  Aunt Eileen glanced fondly in Perry’s direction while running a hand through the shoulder-length curly blonde hair she’d worn in the same style for as long as I could remember. “Still. He’s quite charismatic.” Skimming the room, she said, “At least you don’t have to worry about competition at one of my brother’s affairs.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although Barbara told me one of his business colleagues is dating someone even younger than you.”

  “Aaron Davenport. And he left his girlfriend at home.” Or with the babysitter.

  Aunt Eileen clapped. “Thank goodness for small favors. Truth be told, I haven’t liked any of your boyfriends since Jake, but Perry is so magnetic. And talented. Imagine if he won a Tony award.”

  A what? “Did he tell you he was nominated for one?” Perry had proven to be prone to exaggeration, but blatant lying seemed out of character even for him. And why did she have to mention Jake?

  Aunt Eileen’s jade-green eyes bugged out. “No, he didn’t. That’s amazing news. I’ll have to congratulate him later,” she said before scurrying off toward Uncle Gil.

  I shook my head like there was water in my ears, trying to make sense of the preceding conversation and how much liquor my aunt had ingested to believe Perry—who had never even been in a real Broadway show—could possibly be eligible for a Tony nomination. Whatever. I followed him to the bar, where he was talking to my dad. I inhaled deeply through my nose and let it out slowly, reminding myself this wasn’t real and no matter how keen my father was on Perry, it would be over soon. My parents survived the Jake breakup; they’d live through the impending disappearance of Perry from my life too. I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but when the time was right, I’d say, “It didn’t work out.” Then I’d strategically change the subject to something neither of them could resist, like which attorneys at the firm were assigned “Super Lawyer” status and the new trends I found for party planning on Pinterest.

  I came up from behind the two of them and tapped Perry on the arm. “Please don’t tell me you’re dissing my vocal skills again. I might be persuaded to prove you wrong with a little ditty later.”

  “We weren’t discussing you at all,” Perry said dryly.

  “I was urging Perry to try the Glenfiddich 1937. He said he’s more of a Tito’s vodka man, but I told him the Scotch would take the edge off,” my dad said.

  “I’m not sure even the finest Scotch could heal what currently ails me.” He gave me a pointed look and then turned back to my father. “Career-related stress.”

  “Well, hopefully you’ll make some connections tonight.” My dad glanced over my shoulder. “I see someone I need to speak to.” With a pat on each of our shoulders, he said, “Enjoy yourselves,” and excused himself.

  The tension in the air was as thick as San Francisco smog. I opened my mouth to tell Perry we should make the best of the night, but before I got the words out, he walked away. I closed my mouth as fast as I could, but not before I made eye contact with Aunt Eileen. She frowned at me and mouthed, “Everything all right?” before jutting her head toward Perry. This was the second time she’d seen Perry run away from me, and I didn’t enjoy being made a fool. I grinned and waved her off.

  An hour or so later, I had made my rounds, greeting some of my father’s business associates and doing my best to charm the hopefuls to send some business to Bellows and Burke. The hot hors d’oeuvres had been released and the guests, particularly those who were imbibing too quickly to consider their calorie intake, flocked to the catering staff as if the trays contained weapons and they were contestants in The Hunger Games desperate to kill before being killed. With most of the guests enveloping the waiters, it was easy to spot Perry standing off to the right, conversing with our family accountant and her husband.

  I joined his conversation of three and said, “Merry Christmas, Jill. You too, Rod,” before leaning in to give them both a kiss. “I see you’ve met my boyfriend, Perry.”

  “Yes, he’s been telling us about his health coverage through SAG,” Jill said with bright eyes.

  “Hearing it from a real actor’s perspective is quite eye opening,” Rod agreed with a nod.

  I rubbed Perry’s elbow with two fingers. “In a good way, I hope.” This was his opportunity to make up for blowing me off earlier.

  While slickly removing himself from my light grip, Perry responded, “Aside from losing sleep wondering whether I’ll meet the minimum earnings required to remain eligible, it’s a dream.” Smiling warmly at Jill and Rod, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I see a tray of lamb sliders with my name on it, but I hope you’ll stick around to hear me play the piano later.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” Jill said.

  “Great,” Perry said before glaring at me and walking away.

  Jill and Rod gave each other curious glances, and we stood for a moment in silence. Hoping they didn’t notice the smoke coming out of my ears, I unclenched my fists and held my head up high. “I should make my rounds before my father accuses me of shirking my hostess responsibilities. Enjoy yourselves.”

  I let out an audible sigh of frustration before quickly planting on a smile for the benefit of my similarly aged but married cousin Lauren—Aunt Eileen and Uncle Gil’s daughter—who, from the way she was frowning at me, had witnessed the scene with Perry. “We had a bit of a tiff last night and he’s holding a grudge,” I confessed. Rolling my eyes, I said, “Typical man.”

  Lauren shook her head in sympathy. “Todd is the champion of passive-aggressive behavior. I find it’s pointless to apologize more than once. Eventually, or as soon as he realizes he won’t have sex again if he keeps up the silent treatment, he lets it go as if nothing happened.” With a knowing raise of her eyebrows, she said, “I have a feeling Perry will get over this once he tosses back a few more of those cocktails and wants to get frisky with his beautiful girlfriend.”

  I kept my back as straight as possible to avoid giving into the shudder I was desperate to release at the thought of Perry getting frisky with me. “I’d better instruct the bartender to add an extra shot to all of his drinks then, eh?”

  “Atta girl.” Lauren clinked her glass against mine and rejoined her husband.

  I glanced at my watch, wondering if it was a good time to call Will when from behind me, I heard a deep voice say, “I’ve been trying to get your attention all day.”

  I blew a stream of air through my lips and braced myself for impact before facing Aaron Davenport. In his early forties, Aaron was handsome with short chestnut-brown hair, light blue eyes, freckles, and a slim but fit build. He used his connections in the entertainment industry more than his good looks to get in the pants of beautiful, young, and ambitious aspiring actresses who were too inexperienced and naïve to doubt any of his promises. My knickers, however, might as well have been surgically attached to my body as far as Aaron was concerned, but so far, he hadn’t given up despite my continuous (but polite) refusal to “give it up.”

  “Merry Christmas, Aaron,” I said with a bright smile before accepting his Hollywood-style two-cheek kiss. Although I’d be tempted to take a shower to wash his slime off my body, he was a client, and it was my job to put on a good show. Aaron was the owner of a voice-over company originally based solely in New York City. He’d met my father a decade earlier when he took over a small studio in LA and hired Bellows and Burke as outside counsel in the deal. B&B later assisted when Aaron acquired offices in Chicago and Minneapolis. His moral compass was questionable, but my dad and Stan didn’t care as long
as he paid his bills.

  Aaron darted his eyes the length of my body before eventually landing on my face. “What’s shaking, Jaws?” He’d nicknamed me after the famous fictitious shark after I handled time-sensitive contract negotiations on his behalf and ripped opposing counsel a new one.

  “I’ve been meaning to call you, actually,” I said while trying to keep the crab puff I’d swallowed earlier from coming back up.

  “Finally changed your mind about letting me take you out?” Aaron said, raising his thin eyebrows. “Harvey wouldn’t mind. I’m practically family anyway.”

  “Which would make it virtually incest,” I protested while shaking my head in practiced amusement. Turning the conversation to a more business-appropriate topic, I asked, “Have you pondered expanding AD Voice Over into Canada next?” The latest issue of Business Insider included an article about the Great White North becoming a new hotspot in the industry, and I considered it part of my job to stay on top of trends in entertainment.

  Aaron’s eyes twinkled. “You’re so sharp, Ms. Bellows,” he said, looking me over appreciatively again. “I’m considering Vancouver or Montreal for my next business venture. Care to help me choose? We can visit both in the name of ‘research.’” He winked at me.

  “I’m sure Ashley wouldn’t appreciate me encroaching on her man.” Before he could argue, I added, “And I’m afraid my boyfriend wouldn’t be thrilled either. He already has a jealous streak.”

  “He doesn’t seem very green-eyed to me.”

  As a vision of Perry’s annoyingly penetrating eyes flashed before me, I replied, “He’s not. His peepers are blue like a pair of jeans after the first wash…wait, what are you getting at?”

  Aaron gave me a lecherous grin and pointed to where Perry was standing only a few feet away, surrounded by women. “I think he might be okay with swinging.”

  I grimaced. “Those are my relatives. And most of them were already in menopause when he was born.”

  Aaron shrugged. “I’ve been observing you guys all day, and let’s just say he seems more interested in engaging in couch aerobics with them than more high-intensity activities with you.”

  Knowing Aaron was “observing” us sent creepers up my back like the Boogey Man’s fingers, but I ignored the sensation. The fact he noticed Perry’s cold shoulder toward me was more upsetting. “We argued last night and he’s stubborn,” I said as casually as possible while trying to make eye contact with Perry. When he looked my way, I blinked at him three times as quickly as I could.

  “Wow. You must have really bruised his ego. It does happen to everyone, you know. Even young guys like Perry.” He chortled obnoxiously.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied while contemplating the wisdom in calling Aaron out on how inappropriate it was to attack my boyfriend’s ability to achieve an erection. I was his legal counsel, not his sorority sister. But I had more vital things to ponder. For instance, why Perry refused to acknowledge my signal for help. I’d told him about Aaron after he woke up from his nap during our drive from the city. I said if I blinked at him three times in a row, it meant I needed to be rescued. Hoping Aaron would be too busy checking out my breasts to catch me in the act, I kept my stare on Perry, willing him to notice me. After what felt longer than the line for the ladies’ room at a bar on St. Patrick’s Day, he laughed and angled his head in my direction. While my face was in his line of vision, I blinked once, twice, three times and held my breath.

  I knew he saw me—both times. I was already tempted to kick him where it hurt, and if he ignored me one more time, I’d have his balls on one of my mom’s Flora Danica china platters. Our eyes met, I blinked—hard—blinked again, and…dammit…he dissed me again—this time to dance with my Great Aunt Edna.

  Enough was enough. With my fists clenched, I took a step backward and said, “Excuse me, Aaron. I have an urgent matter begging for my attention.” Before he could say anything, or possibly while he was saying it (I didn’t wait around to find out if he bothered), I hoofed it over to Perry and broke up his dance routine. “Apologies, Aunt Edna, but I need to borrow Perry for a minute.” Without awaiting a response from either of them, I grabbed ahold of Perry’s left hand and dragged him out of the room. When we were in the hallway, I checked left and right for nosy catering staff before opening the door of the service pantry, pushing Perry in, and then closing the door behind us. The combined smell of cedar and dust tickled my nostrils.

  “What’s your problem?” Perry asked, his eyes shooting deadly bullets into mine while he shook out the hand I’d been holding. I hadn’t gripped it that hard—wimp.

  “My problem?” Stepping closer to him, I repeated, “My problem? What’s your problem?” I poked a finger into his chest.

  Nearly tripping over a precariously located stepladder, Perry smirked at me. “No complaints here. I’m having a gay old time.”

  I rolled my eyes. He probably was gay and Robyn was acting as his beard. In fact, many of the actors I was attracted to were gay, like Matt Bomer. Not that I was attracted to Perry. “You were having such a wonderful time, you failed to rescue me.”

  Cocking his head to the side, Perry said, “From what?”

  I wasn’t buying the dumb act. “Aaron. I blinked at you three times. Make that nine times.”

  Perry’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. I wondered why you were blinking so much. I thought you might be having a seizure.”

  “And you were so concerned, you pretended not to notice? It’s a good thing you’re not a doctor or you’d have broken the Hippocratic Oath.”

  “I decided it was more likely you had a hair in your eye.” He kicked at an economy-size package of Charmin toilet paper rolls.

  “You’re so full of shit, Perry. You’ve been intentionally evading me all day for no reason.”

  His eyes bugged out. “Everything’s a battle with you. You’re pissed when I’m friendly, you’re pissed when I ignore you. I’m just trying to follow your lead like you asked.”

  “I’ve been trying so hard to be nice all day.”

  Perry crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, maybe I’m sick of how hard you need to try to be a nice person. Seriously, you at your kindest is like Robyn with a bad case of PMS.”

  My skin bristled with irritation under his cocky gaze. “Well, I’m sick of you comparing me to Robyn all weekend. Robyn is so sweet. Robyn can sing. Robyn, Robyn, Robyn.” I rubbed my nose to hide my flaring nostrils.

  Perry smiled. “I get it,” he said plainly.

  “Get what?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Jealous? Of Robyn? Pfft.”

  “You are. Robyn gets a piece of all of this,” he said, with a sweeping motion down the length of his body, “and it’s killing you.”

  “You’re gross.”

  “You’re so used to being in control you can’t stand that I won’t bend for you.” He stared me down before flicking his tongue across his lower lip. “But I bet you wish I’d bend you over right now.”

  Waving my hand in protest, I said, “You’re such a pig,” and turned my back on him.

  “What? You don’t like it rough? Is Will a gentle lover?” Perry asked condescendingly.

  I faced him again. “Leave Will out of this. And he’s plenty rough when I want him to be.” The room suddenly seemed very small and my body flushed with warmth.

  Smirking, Perry sat on the top step of the ladder and asked, “And how often is that?”

  “Why are you so interested in my sexual preferences? It’s nothing you’ll ever need to know.” I smiled victoriously, thrilled to have turned the tables. And then my lips curled back down when I realized I’d singlehandedly proven Perry’s accusation that I craved control.

  Perry raised himself to a standing position and shoved past me. “You couldn’t handle me, Cherry Bomb.”

  T
o his back, I said, “The hell I couldn’t,” before placing a hand on both sides of his waist and turning him around to face me. “And I can prove it to you.” Before my mind or conscience could process that what I was about to do would affect not only me and Perry, but also Will and Robyn, I launched myself at him, latching on to his mouth like I was drowning and his lips were my life preserver.

  Robyn

  My brother had bought me an iTunes gift card every Christmas since I’d owned my first iPod Nano. Even though the contents of the envelope he’d handed me were no surprise, I was no less appreciative. “Thank you,” I said, drawing him into a hug. When we separated, my eyes met Will’s. In an instant, I was no longer in my parents’ family room, but back in my childhood bed, curled in Will’s arms as he spooned me from behind. The red sangria I was holding slipped through the fingers of my right hand and splat onto the multi-colored area rug. The splash of the liquid from the full glass seemed to reach all four corners of the rectangular-shaped room, and everyone grew silent as all heads turned toward Jordy and me. “My fault. Sorry, I’ll clean it up,” I said before racing into the kitchen, hoping my thick mane of hair covered the mask of embarrassment I was now wearing.

  “I’ll take care of it. And besides, the red will blend into the rug,” my mom yelled after me. “Just refill your glass and bring me the pitcher.”

  With shaky hands, I opened the refrigerator with the public intention of doing as told by my mother. Fortunately, it also served the added benefit of cooling off my heated face—and if I was being honest, certain parts of my body—from the memory of waking up to Will’s beating heart against my back, his rhythmic breathing in my ear, and his long fingers laced with mine. We’d closed our eyes for the night on opposite sides of the bed, but either I’d leaned my body against his in my sleep or he’d reached for me at some point, perhaps mistaking me for Sidney. It was no doubt an innocent, unconscious maneuver to start, but my failure to extricate myself from his embrace after I’d taken several waking breaths wasn’t so chaste.