“I thought you said he was at work,” my dad said, sitting up a little straighter and removing his arm from my mother.
“That was a lie,” I said. “Obviously.”
What is wrong with them today?
Placing her palms together and bringing her hands up to her lips, my mom seemed to be considering her next comment before she shared it. I waited.
“Is he at his boyfriend’s?”
It took me a moment for her question to register. “What? No. Knowing Brody, he’s probably got like six French women in his hotel right now.”
“It’s okay,” my dad said. “You don’t need to cover for him anymore. Your mom saw the picture.”
“What picture?”
Digging through her purse, my mom pulled out a folded paper and opened it. When she held it out to me, I took it quickly, wanting to see what the hell Brody had posted. But when I looked at the picture, I was surprised to see it wasn’t of Brody at all. It was the picture we’d taken after the auction of all the bachelors and the people who’d won them.
Drew was standing next to me, but his head was turned enough that even I couldn’t make out his face. It was also partially blocked by the guy in front of him. I wasn’t even sure our own parents would’ve been able to tell it wasn’t Brody. When I’d chosen which one to post on the sorority Instagram, I’d purposely chosen this one for that reason.
“I’m confused.” At least that part wasn’t a lie.
“So are we,” my mom said. “Imagine having to find out from social media that your son is gay.”
“Brody isn’t gay,” I said. “Why would this picture make you think that?”
“It wasn’t the picture. It was the comments. Some boy named HoeyJoey tagged Brody and said something about how you bid on his ‘boo.’”
“Just because a guy likes him doesn’t make Brody gay.” It almost scared me how quickly I came up with a response that made sense. I was really getting good at this lying thing.
“No, it doesn’t,” my mom said. “But then I called around and did some investigating. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions that weren’t true, but the overwhelming verdict seemed to be that people on campus know Brody’s gay.” Sighing loudly, she looked to my dad. “We just wish he could’ve been as open with us as he was with a bunch of strangers.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said quietly. “Brody isn’t gay. He’s just…an idiot.”
Straightening, my mom cleared her throat. “Can you please explain to me what’s going on, Sophia Leigh?”
Neither of my parents were in the habit of using my middle name, and it only meant one thing when they did: I was in a heck of a lot of trouble. They were looking at me like I’d thrown a kegger while they were away for the weekend and charged underage kids fifteen bucks each to get in. Brody had actually done that a couple of summers ago, so I was familiar with that look.
“Actually, I think it’d be better if we spoke to the both of you together,” my dad said. “Why don’t you give your brother a call? We’ve tried a few times, but he never answers.”
Though my father had masked his comment as a simple suggestion, I knew it for what it was: a directive I’d better follow. So I did.
With a deep sigh, I got up. “Let me grab my phone.” I headed down the hall toward the bedroom, and once inside, I closed the door behind me.
Drew was lounging on the bed, playing on his phone. “Are they gone?” he mouthed to me just above a whisper.
“No,” I said through clenched teeth. “They want me to call Brody. It’s a long story. I’ll explain later if they don’t kill me first.” My voice was hushed, but to explain why I was taking so long, I called out loudly, “I’ll be out in a minute. Just gotta find my phone.” I grabbed it off the dresser and whispered, “Put some clothes on,” before turning back to the door.
When I opened it, my mom was standing outside. Pulling it closed behind me, I found myself practically up against her.
“Brody’s in there, isn’t he?”
“No, I’ll call him. Watch.”
“Brody,” my mom said, reaching for the doorknob. But I stood my ground, hoping that the delay would at least give Drew the chance to get dressed.
“Is he back there?” My dad was up from the couch and was in front of me in an instant. “Let us in, Sophia.”
I was proud of myself for waiting another ten seconds or so before finally stepping to the side so my dad could open the door. I braced myself for what he might see.
“Who are you?” he asked sternly.
Drew stood up—thankfully fully clothed—from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, with a laptop open but probably not even turned on. Next to him lay one of his business textbooks.
“Drew Nolan,” he said confidently. Smiling broadly, he reached out his hand. “You must be Sophia’s dad. It’s nice to meet you.”
“That’s right,” said my dad, completely ignoring Drew’s gesture. “Patrick Mason.”
Drew slowly lowered his arm. “I didn’t realize Sophia had plans, or I wouldn’t have asked her to help me study.”
“Studying, huh?” my dad practically grunted.
“Yes, sir.”
“With Brody’s MacBook?”
For as sharp as Drew was, my dad was sharper.
“He lets me use it.”
“Are you his boyfriend?” my mom asked, looking almost excited at the idea.
Drew’s eyes darted to me before settling back on my parents. “No?” Drew answered, obviously hopeful that he’d chosen correctly.
My dad kept his body squared to Drew’s but turned his head toward me once again. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but you better hope your brother picks up. We’re not leaving until we find out where Brody is and why there’s a strange man in his bed.”
D R E W
Mr. Mason was scary, intimidating in a way that went beyond Sophia’s description of him. He couldn’t have been over six feet tall, but his expression and posture created anxiety in me more than anyone’s size ever had.
Not sure whether he was mad at Brody or the whole situation, I barely moved, let alone asked any questions as Sophia dialed his number. She held the phone so it was facing her, leaving her parents out of the frame completely.
I heard the FaceTime call connect, and Brody’s voice immediately after. “What’s up, little sis? How’s college life? The Greek goddesses let you back in the house yet?”
“I have a meeting with them in a little while, actually,” she replied.
Was Brody picking up on the tension in her voice?
“Sweet. Let me know what happens.”
It was more likely Brody was making conversation than it was that he actually cared about the result. Well, beyond wanting to find out when Sophia would be moving out of his apartment.
I heard a female voice giggle and Brody say, “I’m on the phone, babe. Un momento, por favor.”
“I see you’ve improved on your Spanish since high school,” Sophia said, and I had to bite my tongue from laughing. Scared to make eye contact with Mr. and Mrs. Mason, I kept my gaze fixed on Sophia.
“Ha-ha,” Brody said dryly. “Is Drew there? I wanna find out how my classes are going.”
“Yeah, he’s here,” she said, adjusting the phone so Brody could see me.
I chanced a glance at Mr. Mason, who mouthed Where is he?
“What’s my GPA looking like?” asked Brody.
“Good,” I answered. Better to give as little information as possible and ask even fewer questions.
“Nice.”
Just when I thought this whole thing couldn’t get any more awkward, the dark-haired, bikini-clad woman next to him leaned over to kiss his neck.
One hard stare from Mr. Mason had me asking, “Where are you? Looks gorgeous there.”
“Dude, you have no idea. The women, the view, everything here is beautiful. If you ever get the chance, you definitely need to check out the Amalfi Coast.”
With that, Mr. Mason reached for the phone. As Sophia let it go from her hand, she muttered a quick, “Mom and Dad are here,” before the Masons made face-to-face contact with their delinquent son.
“What?” Brody squeaked out.
“What are you doing in Italy, Brody?” Mrs. Mason said. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“She’s right to worry,” Mr. Mason said, “because I swear to God, I’m going to kill you when I see you.”
“Sorry, bad signal.” Brody quickly tried to muffle the call with fake static he created with his mouth. “Hard to…er.”
“You’re on FaceTime, you fucking idiot,” Mr. Mason said. “I can see you doing that.”
“¿Todo bien, mi amor?” the woman asked.
“No,” Brody said, which I at least knew meant the same thing in Spanish as it did in English.
Mr. Mason gritted his teeth. “Start talking.”
Unfortunately, as his stare stretched from Brody to me and Sophia, I knew his directive was to all of us.
Brody tried convincing them he’d only been gone two weeks, but the lie detector known as the Masons determined that was a lie.
“We’ve been trying to reach you for over a month,” Mrs. Mason said. “I thought you were avoiding us because you’re gay.”
“I’m not gay,” Brody said, sounding more confused than he usually did, if that was even possible. “See?” I assumed he’d pulled the woman beside him again so his parents could see that he was not, in fact, gay.
“What I see,” Mrs. Mason said, “is a selfish spoiled brat who’s too lazy to ever take school seriously. We’re the idiots to ever think you’d grow up.” A tear crept into her eye, and I thought about how hard being a parent must be, especially when it was to a fuckup like Brody. Then she turned to me. “So what? You just had this boy going to your classes for you?”
Brody didn’t answer.
“I’ll assume that’s a yes. Explains why you have good grades for once.”
“Yeah,” Brody said, and even I could hear the sadness in his voice. A part of me almost felt bad for the kid until I remembered he was the reason I was in this mess to begin with.
“You have a degree in business?” Mr. Mason looked me up and down like he was surprised that I could do so well.
“No. This is the first time I’ve taken any college classes,” I said, my voice holding a similar sadness to Brody’s. “I’m just a bartender. Thought it might be fun to see what college was like. Figured I could learn some things.”
“Well…” Mr. Mason let out a disgusted laugh, and I wasn’t sure if it was directed at Brody or me. Maybe it was meant for the both of us. “I hope you did.”
I was sure even someone as dense as Brody knew his dad wasn’t talking about academics.
Mr. Mason turned his attention back to his son. “I don’t know what to say anymore or what to do.” He rubbed his temples with his free hand. “A bartender did well in classes you couldn’t even find the motivation to attend.”
The way he said “bartender” made me wish I’d never told him what I did for a living.
“When are you coming home?” Mrs. Mason asked.
Brody was quiet for a moment, like he was truly contemplating the question and trying to answer as honestly as possible. “I’m not,” he finally said.
“The hell you’re not,” their dad said, his voice rising.
Probably used to it, Brody seemed unaffected. “Are you coming to Europe to get me?”
It was more of an actual question than a challenge, and Mr. Mason didn’t reply. Instead, he chose to end the call, not even bothering to say goodbye.
“I’ll deal with him later.” He rubbed a hand over his creased forehead in frustration before allowing his gaze to settle on me and Sophia. “I think the four of us still have some things to discuss anyway.”
Not wanting to actually reply, I looked to Sophia to gauge her reaction.
“I know this is a mess, and I’m sorry,” she said. “But I wasn’t going to betray Brody’s trust in me. You know we’ve never been close, but I feel like in some odd way this has actually brought us together a bit.”
“Deceiving parents sometimes does that to siblings,” Mrs. Mason replied.
“It wasn’t like that,” Sophia responded, and Mr. Mason insisted it was exactly like that. The family went back and forth for another few seconds until they all seemed to accept the conversation wasn’t going anywhere. “Can we talk about this later?” Sophia asked. “I actually have a meeting at the sorority house that’s kind of important.”
Letting out a laugh that seemed more out of disgust than humor, Mr. Mason told her to go. “Why don’t you drive her over, Kate?” he said, handing over the keys to his wife. “You can talk to Sophia on the way. I’d like to speak with Drew.”
He spoke calmly, but his body held the same tension it had since he’d realized I was impersonating his runaway son. And speaking of running away, I wanted absolutely no part of talking to Sophia’s dad, especially without her present. But something told me I had no choice. If I wanted Mr. Mason to think anything positive about me—and I really did—I had no other option than to man up and speak to him now.
Sophia looked to me like she was actually considering skipping the meeting if I needed her there, but there was no way in hell I’d let her do that.
“It’s fine,” I assured her. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sorry,” she whispered, like any of this was at all her fault, and headed into the bedroom to get changed.
The Masons and I walked over to the living room and sat on the couch for a few awkwardly silent minutes before Sophia emerged.
“Ready?” she asked her mom.
A few seconds later, they were gone, and with the final close of the door, I felt like I was trapped in a lion’s cage, hoping that if I stayed still enough, he wouldn’t attack.
I wasn’t normally the type of guy to remain quiet in situations like this, preferring to stand my ground and explain myself. But I knew no amount of explaining would help Brody, Sophia, or me, for that matter, so I chose to approach the impending conversation as I would a police interrogation. I’d answer what was asked of me honestly without elaborating any more than necessary.
We were both so quiet, so still, that I felt like the only movement in the entire room was the air passing my lips as I breathed. Finally, Mr. Mason looked up from where he’d been focusing on his hands folded in front of him.
“Tell me why you agreed to this,” he said. “Why you’d give up whatever life you had to pretend to be someone you’re not?”
I hated the way that sounded—like I’d sacrificed my identity to become someone else. I hated more that there was some truth to it. “I didn’t really have much of a life to sacrifice, I guess.”
“What were you doing before?”
“Bartending.” Not wanting to give up any additional information, I offered only, “I still am.”
He nodded and then cleared his throat. “That how you met Brody?”
I nodded.
“And he didn’t offer you money?”
“No.”
His brow furrowed, and he locked his stare on me like he was trying to determine if I was being truthful.
It suddenly became very important to me that this man know I was telling the truth. He would think what he wanted about me, but I wouldn’t have him think I was a liar. Well, any more than he already did.
“I never had the chance to go to college,” I said. “I’d always wanted to, though. Maybe just to prove something to myself. Or maybe to prove something to other people.”
Mr. Mason’s eyes widened. “Who else knows about this?” he asked, and I realized how stupid my last comment had been.
I was quick to answer. “No one.” Except Carter. And there was no way I was pulling him into this. I’d be a liar before I’d be a rat.
He gave a quick nod. “Good.” Then he set
tled back into the chair and stared at me for a few more seconds before standing, pulling out his wallet, and removing a check.
I didn’t know why keeping blank checks in a wallet was a good idea, but then again, I knew nothing about how the wealthy lived.
“You’re going to leave,” he said, walking into the kitchen and pulling open drawers until he found what he was looking for.
Clicking the pen, he began writing. “Drew…” He looked up. “I don’t remember your last name, and I don’t really care to, so you can just fill that in.”
What the fuck?
“Is three hundred enough?”
“What?” I figured he was giving me three hundred dollars to keep me afloat until I found an apartment of my own, and though the offer was considerate since he didn’t have to give me anything at all, I still wanted nothing to do with taking this man’s money.
“I’ll make it four,” he said.
“I don’t want your money.”
He stopped writing and looked up at me, his eyes blazing. “You don’t have a choice.” He finished writing the check, placed it on the edge of the counter, and put the pen back carefully in its place. “You’re going to leave this apartment, Drew, and you’re never going to speak to either of my children again. And you will never speak of this to another person. If anyone finds out about this, it’ll ruin any shot my fucking idiot of a son has at making something of himself, should he ever decide to do the right thing. As it is now, I’ll have to figure out how to get him excused from his finals.”
I heard what he was saying about Brody, but I didn’t focus on it. I was too caught up in thinking about a life without Sophia.
“No.” I shook my head. “I understand that I can’t pretend to be Brody anymore, and I won’t fight you on that. But Sophia and I…” I’d never said the words I was about to say, but if I had any chance to convince Mr. Mason that my relationship with Sophia didn’t stop here, this was it. “There’s something between us,” I said. “I love your daughter.”
“Does Sophia know that?”
“I’ve never told her,” I said softly.
Never Have You Ever (The Love Game Book 1) Page 22
