Chapter 5 #2
“Oh.” That single non-word is loaded with all sorts of questions itself. None I can answer either.
“Did you like looking at all the stores?” That’s what girls do. Shop, spend money, though I don’t think Fable really has much to spend. Well, she does if she wants to blow that money I gave her, but I know she’s saving it to take care of her brother.
The noble barmaid named Fable. Sounds like a story out of a modern fairy tale.
“The shops here are way too expensive for my taste.” She wrinkles her nose, which is cute as hell. “I can’t afford to look inside, let alone think about buying anything. I’m not really a shopper anyway.”
So what does she like to do besides hang out at the beach? I know nothing about this girl. What I do know, I don’t much understand. We’re complete and total opposites in pretty much every way.
“What do you like to do, then? During your off time?” She stares at me strangely and I feel like an idiot. “You know, like hobbies or whatever.”
She bursts out laughing. “I don’t have time for hobbies. I used to like to read.”
“Used to?”
“I’m too busy.” She shrugs. “Working, taking care of my brother, cleaning up around our place. I always end up totally exhausted and when I fall into bed, I’m already asleep.” Her gaze cuts away from mine.
“Same here.” I keep myself busy on purpose.
My class load is heavy, though I have no idea what I want to do with my life beyond football.
Hell, I know my coach is mad that I didn’t stay around campus so I can practice and that still makes me feel guilty.
There’s a big game coming up and I need to be at peak performance.
“Really?” She sounds shocked.
I nod. “It’s easier that way, don’t you think? Staying so busy nothing can bother you.”
She studies me for a while, her gaze narrowed. Perceptive. As if those dark green eyes can reach directly inside me and examine all my hidden secrets.
I don’t like it.
“There you are.” I turn to see my dad coming out of the restaurant, his irritation obvious. He glances at Fable and his jaw hardens. “I thought we weren’t finished with our conversation,” he says to me pointedly.
“Oh, I am so sorry—I thought you two were done.” Fable steps right in like a good little girlfriend, slinging her arm through mine and nestling that hot body close.
Her breasts press against my side and she gazes up at me adoringly.
“I need Drew’s help. I can’t make up my mind which pair of shoes I want to buy. ”
She’s good. Not two minutes ago she was complaining about how she hates shopping, and now she’s the simpering girlfriend who can’t make a shopping decision without my input.
“I assume they’re for tonight, then?” Dad asks.
“What’s going on tonight?” Great. I don’t want to put on a show for anyone. Bad enough we have to fake this for my dad and Adele. It’ll feel like the grand performance if we take this public.
“A special early Thanksgiving dinner at the country club. I told you about it the night you arrived.”
No way do I want to go. Sounds like a special sort of hell. “I don’t know…”
“I insist,” Dad interrupts, wearing that expression that says no arguments allowed.
“Sounds fun.” Fable tightens her arm around mine, but I hear the tension in her voice. Tonight sounds like a special sort of hell for her, too. “What should I wear?”
“Something semiformal. Cocktail casual.” Dad beams, like he knows he’s making Fable uncomfortable and confused, and that’s so fucked-up. “I’m sure you have a pretty dress somewhere in your bag of tricks.”
“Dad.” I’m pissed at the way he talks to her, but how do I stand up to him? I never really have before because shit, he’s my father. He’s all I have in this world.
He ignores me, no surprise. “Adele will want the two of you home by five to ensure we’re all ready in plenty of time.” Dad glances at his watch. “I have a meeting with a client in thirty minutes. I’ll see you two later.”
We watch him walk away in silence, Fable still snug at my side until he’s gone. She slowly pulls away and I immediately miss her.
Stupid.
“I have nothing to wear for some fancy cocktail-party-dinner thing.” She sounds stressed out. “You didn’t tell me to pack anything like that.”
I should have. I’m an idiot for forgetting. My plan was so last-minute, I forgot all sorts of shit. “I’ll buy you something,” I offer. “Let’s go look around. We have time.”
She shakes her head. “No way. You’ve spent too much money on me already. I’m not about to have you buy me some expensive cocktail dress for a one-time-only event. I’m not playing Pretty Woman here.”
Funny thing is, we sort of are. I’ve seen the damn movie—who hasn’t? I’m pretty sure Richard Gere’s character paid Julia Roberts a.k.a. the prostitute three thousand dollars for her to pretend to be his girlfriend. Bought her a bunch of clothes, too.
The similarities are undeniably there.
“I don’t mind.” I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. She’s watching me with a funny look on her face, like she can’t believe I voluntarily touched her without anyone around to see us, but fuck it.
I need her to know that not only is she helping me, but I want to help her, too. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. I don’t want my parents to put her down or make her worry she won’t fit in. It’s bad enough that we both know she definitely doesn’t fit in.
But I don’t feel like I fit in here either. On the outside I might, but on the inside? Not at all. No one knows the shit I’ve gone through.
And I plan on keeping it that way.
—
We find one of those trendy expensive chain stores at the very back of the exclusive outdoor shopping center where I originally dropped her off.
Fable is semi-comfortable there; she knows the store and even though she says it’s expensive, it’s not as bad as most of the other shops that line Ocean Avenue, so I agree.
The place is huge, filled not only with clothes, but also home stuff like bedding, towels, knickknacks, and a bunch of other pointless bullshit.
Fable makes a beeline to rack after rack of dresses and she’s moving frantically, grabbing one after another and slinging them over her arm, the wooden hangers clanking against each other as she walks.
“Hey.” I keep my voice low as I approach her and she pops her head up, her eyes wide. “There’s no fire. We have plenty of time.”
She exhales loudly and shakes her head. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m going to need your opinion on this.”
What do I know about cocktail dresses? “I’ll help you,” I offer because I know I should.
“Okay. Like, you’ll have to lurk around the dressing rooms and actually see me in every dress so you can tell me how I look. I can’t do this alone.” She looks downright frightened. “Thank God they have a bunch of stuff out for the holidays. Hopefully one of these will work.”
“Hi! Can I start a dressing room for you?” The high-pitched voice comes from behind us and we both turn to see who it is. “Drew Callahan, ohmigod, is that you?”
Ah, hell. My worst nightmare has come to life. I went to high school with this chick. Kaylie, I think her name is. Yep, there’s her name tag with “Kaylie” written on it. “How’s it going?” I offer weakly.
Her smile is so big and bright she almost blinds me. Someone’s been bleaching her teeth way too much. “It’s so good to see you!” She throws herself at me and I have no choice but to embrace her back.
I can feel the curiosity and irritation radiating off Fable as she stands next to me. I offer her an apologetic glance but she rolls her eyes. For whatever reason, this reunion is pissing her off.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I tell Kaylie, giving her an awkward hug. She withdraws from me, the giant smile still on her face, her dark eyes sparkling.
“What have you been up to? Well, besides football. You never come around anymore.” Fake pout. “Everyone misses you.”
“Been busy.” I shrug.
“Wow, I guess we don’t rate, then. Can’t even make it back to your hometown.
” It’s as if she’s forgotten all about Fable, the customer she’s supposed to be helping.
Instead, Kaylie is focusing all her attention on me.
“Can you believe I have to work here? My daddy made me get a job so I can learn what it’s like to live in the real world.
Said my ten-thousand-dollar-a-month credit card statements were getting totally out of hand. ” She laughs.
Fable’s gaping at her. I just gave her three thousand dollars that’ll support her entire family for months, and this girl’s acting like spending ten thousand a month on miscellaneous bullshit is no big deal. “Um, you asked if I wanted to start a dressing room?” Fable asks out of nowhere.
Kaylie looks at her, her demeanor changing instantly. Before she was the good little worker, and now she’s assessing Fable since it’s obvious we’re together.
I hope like hell we look like we’re together.
“Here.” Fable hands over the clothes when Kaylie still doesn’t answer her. “I would really love it if you started me a dressing room.”
The sarcasm is evident in Fable’s voice and I try my best to hide the smile. Kaylie takes the clothes, her upper lip curled. “I hope these are the right size for you. They look a little small.”
Catty bitch.
Fable offers her a fleeting smile. “Oh, the size is perfect. I just have humongous tits so it always looks like I need to go up a size, but I make it work. Drew likes it when they hang out and he can see them. Easier access and all that. Right, honey?” She bats her eyelashes at me, and this time I can’t hold back the chuckle that escapes.
This girl—my fake girl—is just too much.
“Right,” I murmur, enjoying the humor dancing in Fable’s eyes.
Kaylie mutters something under her breath and heads for the dressing room.
“Well. She was rude,” Fable says the moment Kaylie’s out of earshot.
“Sorry about that.” I feel like I’m constantly apologizing for this world I’m from that treats Fable so terribly. It sucks.