Chapter Eleven Fake Date Number One #2
He’s got black dress pants on, and as expected, they’re huge.
They’re staying up with a black studded belt, and he’s got a thick silver chain clipped to one of his belt loops that disappears into his pocket.
What’s surprising is that his black dress shirt fits his slim build perfectly.
His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows so the spiderweb tattoo is on full display.
He’s got his eyebrow rings and a septum hoop in, and the best part, he has a sword earring in one ear and a silver hoop in the other.
Actually that’s not the best part. The best part is that he appears to be wearing eyeliner, which makes his eyes seem darker and more mysterious, and I had no idea I had a thing for guyliner until this very moment.
I grin. I can’t help myself. “You look…”
He smiles back. “Dangerous?”
“Like a perfect bad boyfriend.”
He laughs. “Your shoes really make your outfit.”
“Thanks,” I say, laughing back. At least I know someone at the club appreciates my style choice. “You sure you want to do this?”
He gives me that slow sultry smile, the same one he gave me the day we met. “Let’s go crash the country club, Noorani.”
The Cherrybridge Mews Golf and Country Club is a fancy Victorian-inspired building right next to the golf course. I say “Victorian-inspired” because the building itself is pretty new—like, ten years old. The driver drops us off right in front of the building near the valet parking stand.
“Ready?” I ask before we walk in. My hands are sweating. I don’t know why I’m so terrified… It’s just a party.
Noah gives me a tiny little nod, then steps toward me and puts out his arm. I take it and focus only on how strong and warm his arm feels under his thin shirt, instead of worrying about what’s going to happen at Jason’s party.
Let the charade begin.
No one says anything as we walk into the club, but there aren’t a lot of people around.
I find someone who clearly works here and ask where Jason LeClair’s party is.
She points us down a hallway to the same small banquet hall where the wedding reception was.
There’s a man at the door who asks for our names.
“Meera Noorani and guest,” I say.
The man finally looks up at us, and kudos to him, his expression doesn’t change at all when he sees Noah’s pierced and eyelinered face. “I see Meera Noorani on the list, but no guest. Could I please have your name, sir?” he asks Noah.
“His name won’t be there. Here, let me text my mother.”
Meera: mom, you said i could bring a friend to the party, right? the man won’t let us in at the door
Mom: Yes, but you didn’t say you were bringing someone.
Meera: you didn’t ask. so now i’m not allowed to bring someone?
Mom: No, it’s fine. Tell the man Neelam LeClair said you can bring a guest.
I show the man the text, and he lets us in, his expression still not concerned with Noah’s emo-boy vibe.
Arm in arm, Noah and I walk into the hall.
I’ve been here before, and even without the wedding centerpieces and decor, it’s ridiculously ornate.
Part banquet hall and part greenhouse, the back half of the room has glass walls, and a big glass domed ceiling.
That’s where the wedding ceremony was. The rest of the room is done in shades of cream and dark wood, and there’s a huge crystal chandelier in the middle of the room.
There are a lot of people here, easily over two hundred.
I tense. This is way more people than there were at the wedding.
The men are wearing dress shirts and jackets with no ties, while the women are in cocktail dresses, or nice pants and blouses. My heart pounds heavily in my ears.
I get why Mom was freaking out now. All these people are here for Jason, one of the most powerful people in this town. This party isn’t only for Jason to announce that he’s running for mayor but also to introduce his new family to Cherrybridge. He wants Mom and me to be seen.
Which is exactly what I want too. I want everyone here to see me with Noah, and I want them to think we don’t belong here. But after being a rule-follower, a high achiever my whole life, being bad on purpose is kind of scary. I bite my lip.
Noah squeezes my arm, and I glance up at him. He doesn’t look annoyed, aloof, or even flirty. He looks concerned. He’s noticed that I’m freaking out.
“You got this, Noorani. I’m right here with you.” His voice is low, like it’s only for my ears. And it’s so calming.
I exhale. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“It’s fine if you want to change your mind,” he says. “We can leave. Or I can go.”
I blink at him. That’s amazing. Like, he knows I’m anxious, and he’s giving me an out. I shake my head. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t know if I can do this without Noah next to me. “Stay,” I say.
He smiles and nods.
“Excuse me,” a man in a dark suit and tie says, coming toward us. He’s older than Jason and has light gray hair. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”
I’m about to say yes, we are supposed to be here, when Noah answers instead. “You’re not wearing a uniform or name tag. Do you work here? Because if you don’t, you can’t know if we’re on the guest list.”
The man makes a face like he just ate a bug. “No, I’m a member of the club and a close personal friend of the host. I don’t recognize the two of you. This is a private party.”
I don’t know this man—and if he doesn’t know me, then I don’t think he was at the wedding. So much for being a “close personal friend.”
“And we have an invitation to this private party,” Noah says. “Meera, let’s go see what there is to eat at this thing—”
The man puts his hand on Noah’s arm, stopping him. “I’m calling security.” He starts to wave down a staff member. “The club has had so many party crashers lately.”
I finally find my voice. “I am on the guest list,” I say, louder than I intended. “Jason LeClair invited me to this party, and this is my date.” The man looks appalled, which makes me tighten my hand on Noah’s arm. I feel very warm all of a sudden, and my whole body is shaking.
I see my mother and Jason coming toward us. I exhale. Before they’ve even reached us, the man in the suit says, “These two claim to have been invited by you.” He sneers at us again.
“Of course they were invited,” Jason says. “Stuart, this is my stepdaughter, Meera, and my wife, Neelam. I know you haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet, but I assure you, they very much belong at this party. Meera’s friend is also welcome.”
Jason turns to Noah then, whose arm is still in mine. And I have to give one point to Jason. His expression does not change at all when he takes in Noah’s clothes, ink, and piercings. Jason’s a great politician.
He glances at Mom, whose poker face isn’t as good.
I can see her face go from surprise to anger before she finally fakes a smile at Noah’s bad-boy look.
Her eyes then go to my purple sneakers, and she scowls briefly at me before turning to smile at this Stuart man.
The man shakes Mom’s hand, but not mine or Noah’s.
“Pleased to meet you,” Stuart says. “Nina, is it?”
“Neelam,” Mom says, enunciating the syllables in her name.
The man nods. “Just a tip—you should go by ‘Nina.’ Rolls off the tongue better. If you want to fit in here, that is.”
I frown, about to tell this racist man that there is nothing wrong with my mother’s name, when Jason speaks. “Thank you for your concern, Stuart,” Jason says. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a moment with my family.”
The Stuart guy glares at Jason and walks away. He doesn’t even look at Mom again. Or, you know, congratulate her on her recent marriage. I may be mad at Mom, but she didn’t deserve to be snubbed by that dusty old man.
But the moment Stuart leaves, Mom gives me her most disappointed glare. “What is the meaning of this, Meera?”
I straighten my spine. “You said I could bring someone,” I say. “So I brought a date. I met Noah at the CROP program… you know, the Cherrybridge program you forced me to do? Noah, this is my mom and stepfather, Jason.”
Jason smiles at Noah. “Of course, any friend of Meera’s is welcome.” He reaches out to shake Noah’s hand, and that’s when I realize that Noah’s nails are painted black. I squeeze my lips together, trying not to laugh. I freaking love the attention to detail on this guy.
“You didn’t tell us you were actually going to bring someone!” my mother snaps, less able to hide her anger. “Instead you embarrass—” Jason puts his hand on Mom’s arm, stopping her.
“I think Stuart embarrassed himself,” Jason says. He turns to Noah again. As the host of this private party, he actually can kick Noah out. “Have we met before?” Jason’s eyes suddenly widen with recognition. “You’re Mike Jacobs’s son.”
Wait, does Jason actually know Noah’s father? He emphasized Mike Jacobs, instead of saying “one of those Jacobs boys” like everyone else in town says.
Noah stands straighter and smiles in an almost sinister way. “In the flesh. Been a while, hasn’t it, Uncle Jason?”
What? Uncle Jason?
Jason manages not to lose his politician’s smile, but I can see tension in his jaw. Mom seems as confused as I am. Jason glances around the room. Most people are talking in their little groupings, but there are quite a few guests staring at us.
Jason exhales. Then nods to Noah. “Good to see you again, Noah. Please enjoy the party.” He puts a hand to Mom’s elbow. “Come, Neelam. The Westons are waiting for me to introduce you.”
Jason leads my mother away from us into the crowd. My mother glances back at me, and even though she clearly doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, she’s definitely still mad.
I blink at Noah, who has the biggest, most mischievous grin on his face. “That went better than expected, don’t you think, Noorani?”
I raise my brows. Yeah, if the goal was to make Jason and my mother mad, that did go well. But why did Noah call my stepfather “Uncle Jason”?
My fake date has a lot of explaining to do.