Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

  We’ve gone through and through everyone’s business books—Chester’s store, Greg’s restaurant—they’re all on the up and up. Or so it seems. I’m almost half-tempted to whack everyone over the head with this pepperoni and demand to know who is laundering money.

  I climb the brick stairs to the Patterson’s home and ring the doorbell.

  “Benvenuto, Addison,” Miffie, wearing a white apron and chef hat, greets me when she opens the door.

  “You speak Italian?”

  “Not at all,” she replies, leading me into her kitchen. “That’s literally the only word I know.”

  Kelly, June, and Helena are already scattered around the large granite-topped island, wine in hand, laughing and chatting. And lounging back against the counter, taking it all in, is none other than Matteo Lombardi himself, looking likes he’s about to make a business deal rather than pizza in his navy blazer and blue, silk tie. His eyes, sharp as razor blades, are trained on me, when I enter with a smile.

  I shouldn’t be nervous. I can do this.

  I drop my pepperoni on the counter. “Hi, Matteo,” I say to let Vin know he’s here. “And everyone,” I add, because I don’t want to be that girl who only acknowledges the hot guy in the room.

  “Ciao, bella,” he says, with a wolfish grin.

  “That fucker,” Vin whispers in my ear.

  “Since everyone is here, let’s get started,” Miffie directs us, distributing aprons. “This might get a little messy.”

  She whips out five fat balls of dough, and we assemble ourselves around the island.

  Matteo slides in next to me. “Could you hand me that roller, Addison?” I reach over and comply with his request, passing over the wooden pin. “Grazie per l’aiuto, sei un angelo.”

  “What does that mean?” Kelly asks, awestruck, tying on an apron.

  “Thanks for your help, you’re an angel,” he translates.

  “That fucker,” Vin mutters in my ear again.

  I want to shush him, but I can’t.

  Kelly sighs. “Greg’s only fluent in cow. He needs to learn Italian.”

  As Matteo tells us the intricacies and importance of crust making, I swirl the red wine around in my glass and observe the suspects. They’re all focused on his hands.

  “So you just take the balls and gently roll them?” Kelly asks.

  Helena side-eyes her, and I want to laugh. And this is no time to be laughing. Look at the clues. Think, Addison, think. It’s like a complicated math problem. One you need tools and calculators to figure out. I wish I had some tools to figure this one out.

  We watch Matteo stretch and mold his dough into a perfect crust. “Your turn,” he tells us.

  “I’ll just be honest,” Helena says, pounding into her dough, “deep dish is not my thing.”

  “Addison, you need to work it a little harder,” he instructs me. “Don’t be afraid of it.”

  Miffie’s eyes flit to Matteo, and she raises a brow at me, but remains silent.

  “I’m surprised you showed tonight,” I tell him, folding the dough over and then sprinkling a little flour. “We’re just strangers.”

  “Non tutte le ciambelle riescono col buco,” he drawls, his blue eyes not leaving mine.

  “What does that mean?” I ask, a little afraid to find out.

  “It’s an expression—not all donuts come out with a hole. Meaning things don’t always go as planned.”

  “Ah.”

  Well hopefully, things will go as planned for me. We spend the next fifteen minutes, chopping and dicing vegetables, while Kelly discusses Greg’s restaurant with Matteo. I garnish my pie with onions, mushrooms, black olives, fresh mozzarella, and my now sliced pepperoni. Like I said, I love pizza, and I’m practically drooling over here.

  Miffie slides our works of art into the oven, and my good luck runs out.

  “This was entertaining, ladies,” Matteo says, stepping away from the island, “but I have to go.”

  Sighs of disappointment abound throughout the garlic perfumed air. Mine is probably the loudest.

  “You’re not going to eat?” I ask. “You can’t just leave.”

  “I have business to take care of. Mi dispiace.” He looks over at Kelly and winks, “That means I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be sorry,” Miffie poos him. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replies.

  “Can you just say one more thing in Italian before you go?” June asks.

  He smirks. “Il mio uomo è andato a casa tua e ha fatto lo scambio.” He raps his knuckles on the counter. “Ciao, bellas.”

  His tall frame leaves the kitchen, taking all my hopes of catching him in a lie with him.

  “Ciao, fucker,” Vin says in my ear.

  “Wonder what he said?” Kelly ponders, scooting in close to June.

  “Who knows,” June answers with a slight shrug of her shoulder, before taking a sip of wine. “Sounded good, though.”

  Miffie laughs. “Anything sounds sexy in a foreign language.” She looks at the oven timer. “Ok, five minutes to pizza.”

  “I love, pizza,” June says, repeating my earlier thoughts. “I got a great recipe when I lived in Chicago.”

  “The best pizza I ever had was on a trip to New York,” Miffie says, wiping down the counter. “The slice was as big as my head.”

  “Well, I’ll just be honest again,” Helena says, “I don’t even really like pizza.”

  I’d gasp at her sacrilege, but there’s something more gasp worthy. These women are all so normal, much different than I imagined, but one of them just made a huge faux pas.

  “Oh my God, I know who it is,” I whisper.

  Twenty-Eight

  Vin

  “Pizza smells delicious,” I say, entering Miffie’s kitchen. “Or should I say delicioso?”

  One thing about growing up wealthy is that sometimes you’re forced to do things you hate, like sit through an hour of Italian lessons once a week.

  ‘Il mio uomo è andato a casa tua e ha fatto lo scambio.’

  Translation: My guy went to your house and made the exchange.

  Better translation: June is guilty as fuck.

  “Hey, Vin,” Kelly greets me. “What are you doing here?”

  “You want to do the honors?” I ask Addison.

  She shakes her head no.

  “What’s going on?” Helena asks.

  I pull out my badge. “FBI. June Whithers we have a warrant to search your home.”

  “What?” June’s face contorts with anger. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” I whip out a pair of handcuffs.

  All eyes are on me, and apparently everyone is in shock, because no one utters a word, even Addison. But then she snaps out of it, moving beside me. “June, we’re federal agents, and we were sent here to investigate dirty money linked to Matteo.”

  June’s mouth clamps into a thin line, and I pull her hands behind her back, and slap on the cuffs.

  Grubbs meets us outside, and I glance back at the rest of the ladies, telling them to wait here.

  And then Addison, Grubbs, June, and I head toward her house.

  “Is your husband home?”

  June doesn’t answer, and that’s fine. We don’t need her answer, we already have an idea we’ll find something. And what we find is probably Addison’s porn dream. Tucked in June’s dryer is a bag of crisp new bills. And Matteo telling her about the drop is all on tape, so we now have enough to bring her in for questioning. Fucking finally.

  “The id came back on Carl Matthews,” Grubbs says, holding his phone away from his face a little to give me a status update.

  “June’s ex-husband?” Addison asks.

  “Yeah. He’s moved around a while, but his last known employer was in Chicago at Matteo’s family restaurant. There’s one more thing...”

  “I’m listening,” I say, handing June over to the federal agent who will bring
her down to headquarters for questioning.

  “They were never married,” Grubbs informs us.

  “Never married?” Addison’s eyes are wide.

  The agent carts June away, the assignment is over, and I don’t know how I feel about that.

  “So who is he?” I ask Grubbs instead.

  “My guess is one of Matteo’s men.”

  The next few hours are a whir of gathering evidence. After the initial questioning is over, I head into Steele’s office with Addison.

  “Ah, Mills, Buckley, take a seat you two.” His bald head reminds me of the sun, and I glance at the clock. It’s almost morning now.

  I can’t wait to get home and sleep for a week. Usually after a long assignment like this the department gives us a leave of absence. And this is the first time in a long time where I feel like I might actually need it.

  And then I remember I won’t be going back to the house in the Highlands, and a dark cloud hangs over my head.

  “You two did exceptional work.” Steele shuffles through a few papers on his desk. “We’ve seized all her records, and I’m sure she’ll be going away for a while.”

  “Does Dale know anything?” I ask, wondering how June could have orchestrated all of this.

  “We brought him in for questioning,” he answers.

  “Will they get a deal?” Addison asks with worried eyes.

  Usually in cases like these, the FBI will cut a deal to catch a bigger fish up the chain. In this case, if June will sell out Matteo, or someone higher up, then her prison time will lessen.

  Or, if they give up enough information, they may not even see prison time.

  “She’ll probably get a deal if she turns on someone. Right now, it’s a mess with June’s ties to the mob coming out. She’s got some hotshot lawyer in there right now.” Steele pushes his glasses further up his nose.

  It’s the middle of the night, yet this place is hopping with activity.

  “Go home. Get some rest and I’ll see you after two weeks.” Steele dismisses us both from his office. Home. Our own homes. In the hallway, I linger, not really wanting to walk away.

  Addison does the exact same thing, and I slide my hands into my pockets.

  “You did a really good job,” I can barely get through the words, unable to find the right words to say.

  “I didn’t know you spoke Italian. He said something to June, huh?” Addison asks.

  “Yeah. How did you know she was guilty?” I ask her.

  “I didn’t at first. But, she was cooking pizza, and I remember her saying the recipe was from Chicago.” She glances up at me. “She never lived in Chicago. Well, then I put two and two together. Matteo was from Chicago, and the pieces fell into place.”

  “Ah.” I don’t really know what to say. I can see the sadness in Addison’s eyes when I talk about June being guilty.

  “I really wanted to believe she’s a nice person,” she whispers.

  “I know you did.” I wrap an arm around her. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t you go home and get some rest and forget all about this assignment.” I want her to understand she has to let go of the friendships she made. “It was all pretend, every single part of it. We have to move on from it.”

  “Oh, right, ok.” Her tone is short and clipped.

  Did I say something wrong?

  “I just mean we can talk later.”

  “No need.”

  And I watch as Addison scoops up the cat with one arm. “Can’t leave him behind.”

  My chest pangs with a sense of dread, wishing more than anything she’d pick me up and not leave me behind either. And I watch her walk away.

  Twenty-Nine

  Addison

  It was all pretend. I keep reminding myself of this fact as I soak in my tub.

  Soaking in my own tub at home is nothing like soaking in the tub in the place at the Highlands. It’s like a tugboat compared to a yacht. And, the biggest difference—there’s no Vin on the other side of the door.

  Candles adorn every surface of my tiny bathroom, like I’m having a seance, trying to bring him back to me. I can’t stop thinking about him.

  It’s been two days since we arrested June. Two days since I’ve seen Vin, and I miss him so much it’s physically painful.

  But, it’s more than that. I miss everyone.

  I miss my pretend life. I miss the companionship of the women in the Highlands—Miffie’s drill sergeant ways in the morning, Helena’s dry humor, Kelly’s inappropriate innuendos, ok, maybe that not so much. They’re really just lonely, like me.

  Apologies are hard. A few days later, I sit in a coffee shop, outside of the Highlands, listening to Bon Iver and watching the beatnik barista foam a few cappuccinos, waiting on the women I tricked about my marriage to show up. I hope they understand.

  Helena enters through the glass door and instead of the middle finger, she gives a little wave when she sees me. That’s a good sign.

  “Thank you for coming,” I say to her, unsure of how she feels about me. Let’s face it. The news of Vin and I being federal agents rocked the little community of the Highlands off its axis.

  She pulls at her scarf, loosening the stylish knot around her neck. “I can’t believe you fooled us.” She half-smiles, half-something else, but she’s friendly, so I hope she’ll forgive me for the little white lie.

  Ok, maybe it was more than little, and probably not white either. I’m sure it was a tarnished lie filled with betrayal.

  That’s one of the reasons I called them here to meet with me. I want them to know I’m sorry I had to lie to them.

  Before I can respond to her, Kelly and Miffie arrive at the little corner shop.

  As soon as we’re all settled with our frappuccinos and cappuccinos in front of us, I start explaining, “Thank you all for coming.”

  “Oh, honey, we wouldn’t have missed this,” Miffie says, and I smile.

  “I never meant to lie to any of you. I care for each of you. Even June.” I really do care for June, and it still hurts to learn she was the guilty one.

  “Is it true they were laundering money for the mob?” Kelly asks her eyes as big as gumdrops.

  “I can’t comment on the specifics of the case.” I’d love to tell them what we know right now, that, yes, Dale and June are originally from Chicago, but that’s how these things work. “We’re still figuring things out.”

  Miffie reaches her hand across the table and grabs mine. “You were part of our tribe.”

  My heart crumbles. “I know. I’m so sorry. I never expected to fall for you all so quickly. You’re amazing women.” They smile. “But it’s more than that. You’re my friends.”

  “Wait.” Kelly leans in a bit. “Does that mean Vin is single?”

  Everyone laughs. Except, for me. “He is.”

  Kelly sets her mocha frappe on the table. “Addison, you can not let a man like that get away from you.”

  “Well, we’re not really together.”

  “So?” Helena takes a sip of her coffee. “I saw the way that man stared at you.”

  “No,” I deny, “It wasn’t like that.”

  But, Miffie can read me so well in the short amount of time we’ve known each other. “You have feelings, don’t you?”

  “He’s my partner.”

  “No, you really like him,” Kelly says, taking a sip of her drink. “Did you sleep with him?”

  “Kelly,” Helena scolds, but then turns her attention on me. “Did you?”

  Miffie laughs, squeezing my hand. “You don’t have to answer; it’s written on your face. You can’t let that one get away.”

  I slump in my chair. “He’s not the relationship type of guy.” I don’t know if this is true, but aren’t all single men over thirty? I mean, he has to be, right? I can’t imagine Vin wanting a commitment with me, and not because I have self-esteem issues. He’s always been the player. The one who likes his freedom and doesn’t want to be tied down. But, I can’t erase the way he
made me feel. Or the way he touched me. Or kissed me.

  “None of them are,” Helena tells me, “until they meet the right girl. Chester was a complete man-whore before we met.”

  “So now what?” Miffie asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we still want to hang out.”

  I smile. “I’d like that too.” And I give them all a hug as we say our goodbyes and promise to keep in touch.

  After I leave the coffee shop, I head to headquarters.

  “What are you doing here?” Steele asks when I enter his office. “You’re supposed to be decompressing.”

  “I wanted to grab a few things from the house. I know you put it into storage, and I wanted to look through the things.”

  “What things?” Steele asks, sitting behind his desk.

  After everything went down, I ended up bringing Cap home with me. In the time we had the cat many things were bought for him, including the little toy he loves.

  “Just things for the cat, and other personal items.”

  “Cat?” Steele’s bushy eyebrows raise at me. “Listen, I’m going to level with you Buckley. Vin ended up paying for a lot of things out of his own pocket.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Cats, parties, anything frivolous. Vin tried to get a band approved for some party you two were throwing, and I told him there was no way.”

  “So, Vin paid for everything?” I feel like an idiot right now. “The shopping spree?” I whisper, mainly more for myself, but Steele belts out a laugh.

  “We never approved for shopping sprees.”

  “Well, I know sir, but…”

  “We had the house, and only gave you an allowance for food and inconsequentials.”

  My mind races through all the things Vin and I purchased as we played newlyweds. There were so many instances we bought things for the house, for us, and the parties.