Jim_Strums35: Why did we order steak? And what was for dessert? Tell me we had mousse. I’ve never had mousse. Did I enjoy it?
I gawk at him with a what the hell, who cares? look.
“Sounds like I’m going to have to make Mick take me there. What exactly is it you do to be taking my girl to such a fancy dinner?”
PrtyGrl_Casey: You’re an investor. Own your own company. Travel a lot.
“Oh, you know, I invest here and there. Mainly in my girl, though. Most important investment yet.” He turns and winks at me.
Jim_Strums35: Where do I travel to? I’ve never been outside the U.S. I love Mexican food, though.
Jesus all mighty. I have my work cut out for me with this guy. There’s no way I’m going to get away with this. I’m estimating an hour max before I’m busted and pushing us both out of the car.
“Wow, that’s exciting. Mick and I have always wanted to invest. Got any pointers for us?”
He certainly does not! I shut this ridiculousness down before it gets too out of hand. A subject change is in order. “Hey, Mick, Bob is really interested in your modeling career. Why don’t you tell him how you got started?” I say, a winning grin trying to escape. No one will get a word in the rest of the ride.
Casey
For the record, I wasn’t always such a screw up. Believe it or not, when I was younger, I actually had dreams and set goals for myself. It’s just…life happened. Reality versus fantasy. Everything is so shiny and beautiful when you’re small, then you grow up and fantasies become just that. When I was nine, I wanted to join the circus, paint my face, dress up in a bunch of colorful outfits, ride on elephants, and balance on a trapeze pole—the whole shebang. And at that young, fragile age, William Kasem III told me no child of his would be running around with savage townies and carnies. I would go to college and follow in his footsteps of becoming a lawyer. I could barely pronounce the word, let alone muster up enough gumption to do it.
At age eleven, I wanted to be a veterinarian. After I did my research on circuses, I realized I wanted to help animals, not be part of their cruelty. Once again, my father stepped in and said playing with pets all day was a low man’s job on the totem pole and no daughter of his would be working in such a mangey profession. He then went and used the whole l-a-w-y-e-r word again.
At thirteen, it was an actress. At fifteen, an interior designer. Dream after dream, my father said the same thing: my heart and goals were in the wrong place.
“And how exactly do you think you’ll live on such a fickle income? Your entire life has been made up of these silly dreams, Casey. No one will accept you if you can’t even take yourself seriously. Lawyers and surgeons thrive in this world, not filthy pet doctors or D-list movie stars. Get this nonsense out of your head and start thinking about a real life for yourself. You’ll become no one if you continue on this puerile path of yours.”
I spent my whole life being told who to be, how to act, to stop living my fantasy life and start living in reality—status, prestige, and how much you’re worth is what people judge you for.
It just wasn’t who I was. In my second year of barely passing my college classes, I decided to finally take Daddy Dearest’s advice. I started thinking about living my real life. I quit school, took all the money I had in my bank account, and traveled, lived wild and free—until William Kasem got wind of my shenanigans and pulled the plug.
The university sold me out. My father’s golf buddy had been my psychology professor, and when your best bud’s daughter stops showing up to your class, I guess you become five and tattle. My dad lost it. Made so many threats, I couldn’t even keep up. Get back to school or I’m cutting you off. Grow up or get out.
So, I got out. I used the rest of the money I had to settle into a small apartment and found a job waiting tables close to my place so I didn’t need my car. Life was great. I had my friends. My freedom. I could do whatever the hell I wanted.
So, I did.
And did.
And did.
I was wild and free all right. Along with broke and jobless and basically the big ol’ loser my dad said I would be. But I had my independence. That had to count for something, right? I made sure not to live by my father’s rules, up to the very last one, claiming my only hope left was to marry a wealthy man and pray he tolerated my lunacy. But as for the rest of his silly rules, I refused to be tied down to money or a man. I didn’t need either to define who I was. I forbade it.
Some might ask how it’s all working out for me, and considering I just blew the last remaining money to my name on a fake boyfriend, not great.
Getting lost in my own thoughts, I must have dozed off. Voices filter through the car, and my ears pique at the conversation.
“…wow, I didn’t realize you two were that serious. Do you live together?”
“No, but I stay at her place all the time. It reminds me of her. Cute and feisty.”
Wait, what?
“Such a snuggler this one. Like a little spider monkey. Can’t get her off me at night—ouch!” I pop my head up, my hand cranking back and flying into Jim’s chest.
“Look who’s awake! Finally, we couldn’t hear each other over the snoring.”
“I don’t snore!”
Poppy sticks her head back. “You snore.”
“Do not!” I argue.
“Like a gorilla. I was telling them how it’s one of my favorite attributes. Cute little growling you do when you…okay then.” He shuts up real fast. Thank God my crazy eye does the trick…this time.
“Case, I didn’t know you two were living tog—”
“Oh, look! We’re here!”
Major disaster averted. Everyone watches ahead as we pull down a steep gravel driveway, gigantic thick forest pines enclosing above us. I’m not sure where here is. The accidental cat nap has me unsure how long we’ve been driving, but the view tells me it was long enough to end up in a secluded patch of heaven deep in the country. I roll down my window and inhale the warm summer air. The breeze strokes my cheeks, a hint of earthiness rushing over me. We’re close to the lake.
We’re all still quiet, waiting for something to appear as the road becomes more vertical than I’m comfortable with. I’m about to tell Poppy I think we made a wrong turn and should go back when the trees open up to the most amazing view. My breath catches as a gigantic lake appears like magic as soon as we crest over the ridge. My eyes transfix on a stunning two-story summer home, covered by clear panes of glass. With the house facing the lake, the rays of the summer sun cascade off the windows, illuminating the glimmer of rays from the water, the lake a skyline silver. Calm and peaceful.
“Holy Heaven.”
Sure seems like it. I stick my head further out my window, and the smell of nature sifts inside my nostrils. The dew pearled grass tells me they must have had some rain recently. I ache to snuggle my bare feet in the damp grass and feel the warmth of the sun on my face.
A black SUV is parked in front of the house, and I spot June and her husband Jason right away. It’s kind of hard to miss him. He used to be a linebacker for the Oakland Raiders. And talk about super dreamy. Who would have thought our sweet little June-Bug would catch the eye of a famous football player and bring him to his knees? Literally! They met at a bar, and while she was trying to squeeze through a group of giants, she tripped, tossing two full hands worth of shots. Jason had taken the brunt of the booze, not only catching a lime to the face, but when he tried to steady June, he slipped, and his knees met the bar floor. June was completely mortified, but Jason, as he says, fell head over heels in love. It took two minutes of some cheesy pick-up lines for June to give in and offer up her number.
“Oh, great! Everyone’s already here.” Poppy unsnaps her seatbelt as Mick parks, and they both climb out. When Jim reaches for his door handle, I catch hold of his shoulder.
“Wait.”
He pauses, setting those seductive eyes on me. His lips turn up in a sultry smile as his eyes drop to
where my hand is touching his shoulder. I quickly retreat, pulling my hand away. “Listen, we need to get our stories straight. They’ll catch on right away if we don’t get our act together. Especially June. She’s like a hawk.”
“Hmmm, June, we don’t want her to blow our cover. Okay. So, more making out, less cuddling. Do you prefer pet names or—?”
“Stop! I’m being serious. If my friends find out this is all a scam, they’ll—”
“What? Disown you because you made up a boyfriend? He sounds super boring by the way.”
“No, they’ll think I’m pathetic for making you up, then feel all sorry for me because I’m still single, then they’ll try to set me up with their dentists, dog walker, or God knows who else!”
Great, now he’s looking at me like I’m sad and pathetic. “Stop looking at me like that. You’re not here to judge me. You’re here to play nice and get paid.”
“Speaking of getting paid—”
“Get out, you two!” Poppy opens Jim’s door and tries dragging him out of the car. I grab for him and play tug-of-war with Poppy but lose. We didn’t go over anything, and I can already see curiosity piquing in June and Katie’s eyes.
“Jim—I mean Bob, wait!” I yell to get his attention. The vultures are swarming, and that up to no good look on Katie’s face as she makes her way to our car is confirmation enough to hurry up and spit out the basic needed facts. Jim finally turns to lean inside the car, his arms flexing above his head, making it hard to focus. “No nicknames, even less PDA, okay?” His smile is big and sexy, and I mentally want to take back the PDA comment. I think he catches on because his smile turns deviant, and delicious while mischief glints in his eyes. Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?
“Cool. Got it. Let’s go make all your friends gush over your perfect boyfriend.” He leans farther in to grab my hand and pulls me out of the car. I throw my hand over my eyes to block out the blazing sun when Katie pounces on me.
“Dude! What the hell! You guys took forever. Ew, you smell funny. Is that…the lingering scent of sex?” Katie and I are similar in appearance. Brown hair, hazel eyes, cute button noses. Kidding on the noses, but we have passed for sisters before when it came to snagging family discounts. She releases me and turns her attention on Jim. “Oh, and you must be the cause of said scent, you dirty little muncher.”
Jim laughs while I slowly die of embarrassment. “Katie!” I snap, but she has no interest in me. She’s set her eyes on my boyfriend—fake boyfriend.
“Hi, you must be Bob. Katie. Heard a lot about you.”
He wastes no time unleashing that smile on my friend as he sticks his hand out. “It’s actually Jim.”
Utter confusion strikes as her eyebrows go up, up, and away.
“Wait, I thought your name was Bob?”
“It’s Jim.”
“But…” She turns to me for help. I taser Jim with my glare, wanting to punch him for not playing along.
“It’s Jim-Bob. I like to call him Bob for short.” Why is he making this so hard?
“Oh, okay then. Jim-Bob it is. Since you guys are the last ones here, you get the room next to us. Beware, Jim-Bob, the walls seem thin. No funny business if you don’t want us hearing anything.” She winks, and I debate throwing myself in the lake and never resurfacing. Why do all my friends have to be so strange?
And why hasn’t Katie let go of his hand? Like a jealous girlfriend, I slap their hands apart, only realizing my action after the fact. “Oh, sorry. Uh, your husband was looking over here. I think he was getting jealous.” That’s right. Point blame elsewhere.
Katie swipes her hand in the air. “Oh, it’s fine. Jerry’s high as a kite. He probably can’t even see this far.” We all take sight of her husband, who, indeed, is trying to catch a butterfly, Mr. Miyagi style. “Anywho, let’s go in. The house is dope. Some sort of famous couple owns it. Not to mention, there’s a weird obsession with koozies going on in there.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Koozies?”
“You can look later. Just hurry up and change. The pontoon boat is sick,” she says, then starts to walk off.
Still confused, I shake it off. No time for questions. Side leaning into Jim, I whisper, “Her husband’s Jerry. He’s a financial advisor. They have two kids, boys. She’s a teacher, second—”
“What was that?” Katie turns around.
I open my mouth to tell her I wasn’t talking to her, but Jim beats me to it. “Oh, she was just telling me she’s not worried about the thin walls. She brought her favorite ball-gag.”
Gosh darn it, Bob.
I wind my hand back and take a nice swing into Jim’s chest.
“Ouch!” he gripes, bucking forward.
“Are you for real right now?” I yelp.
“You two are cute. Fighting like a married couple already,” Katie awes, and she’s off again. We’re both still standing there, Jim rubbing his chest while I snarl at him.
“Seriously?”
“What? You’re a freak in the sheets. Don’t chicks envy other chicks like that?”
“What? No! It’s guys who envy dudes who have chicks who are freaks in the sheets.”
“Oh, so I should have used the line on the other guys here?”
Jiminy Cricket.
Turn around, Casey. Go home. Cut your losses.
I’m starting to think this might be the best course of action, but when Jim turns and starts walking toward the house, I want to take my grabby hands and see just how tight his butt cheeks are. Man, he has a nice tush. Every time he sways from side to side, one cheek flexes, and damn…
Just damn.
“Hey, girl—”
“Gah!” I jump, startled by June, who pops out of nowhere. “Jesus, you’re like a little ninja.”
“I was calling your name, weirdo. Sure it wasn’t due to something—or someone—catching your eye?” she jokes and leans in for a light hug.
I turn back as Jim disappears into the house. “I’m not sure,” I say honestly. I’ve been in the presence of this odd stranger for approximately four hours and he’s already managed to get deep under my skin. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but he’s succeeded in hitting both emotions. Bad, because why doesn’t he know how to listen? I tell him to say one thing, and he says another. Reminds me of an untrained dog. But then there’s that smile. That kiss. What was that kiss? He didn’t even introduce himself before he shoved his tongue down my throat and made my knees turn to Jell-O.
And then the nicknames. Small little gestures are so not my style, but he’s making me kinda, sorta, possibly, maybe enjoy them. Hello! I’m single. I don’t get called sweet things. Sweet little nicknames are not because someone is all fancy on me. It’s because I’m about to make awful choices and won’t even remember the pet names come morning.
And, ugh…even in the short four hours of having a fake boyfriend, it’s making me think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a real one.
“You going to elaborate on that one?”
I forget June’s standing there waiting for an answer. “I don’t really know how. Let’s just say my boyfriend is a mystery to me sometimes.”
An understatement of the century.
I wish it were possible to stall. Click my heels and it be the end of the weekend. But time is ticking normally, each minute the required sixty seconds, each hour the required sixty minutes, and sadly, I don’t have ruby red shoes. Lucifer’s sweaty balls. A big huff and a puff and I wrap my arm around June and walk us up to the front porch.
“Wow, this place is beautiful,” I gasp, stepping inside the lower entrance of the house. Katie’s mention of koozies instantly makes sense as my eyes focus on an array of shelves holding row after row of colorful foam sleeves—or what I like to call beer huggers. “Holy Hoarders Anonymous, what is all this?” I don’t know whether to be impressed or confused. “Who likes koozies this much?”
“You should see the back room. Locked glass case of ’em. I assume those are th
e ones off limits. Jason and I took a peek. Some big autographs on them. There’s a blue one with a light beam guarding it. Super strange.”
“Yeah, but why koozies?”
June shrugs. “Why not koozies?”
Oh, June, my little intellectual know it all. I shrug when Katie’s voice booms as she comes out of the bathroom. “Case, you’re upstairs to the right. Hurry up and change. Boat leaves in five.” She stops to snag a koozie off the wall. “I mean…they obviously have enough to share.” She jams her corona into an “alcohol you later” koozie, and walks past, offering us both her toodles wave as she skips down the hill leading to the water.
Great.
I turn to June to suggest we stay at the house and admire the koozie hall of fame when she gives in and pulls one off the wall. “Cute, huh? Matches my bathing suit. See ya down there.” Then she’s gone too.
I find myself staring at the endless wall of colorful drink holders, one from Siesta Key, Florida, another from Hooters. I give in and snag one that says, “You have some big pickleballs.”
“Wish I had some big pickleballs.” Ones that wouldn’t have me running for the hills thinking about having to trek my sorry butt upstairs to face the attractive predicament I got myself into. Speaking of predicament, how could I have not thought about room situations? Did I not think I would have to share a room with this dude? You know, my boyfriend? I smack my head with the squishy foam. Maybe the room has two beds. Possibly a big enough closet for one of us to sleep in.
I grunt, keeping the koozie, because I do enjoy a nice cold drink, make my slow journey up the long set of stairs, and peek into the room.
“Jim?”
Maybe I got lucky and he’s already changed and is on the boat. When I push the door open and walk in, I’m met with silence. No sign of fake boyfriend anywhere. My backpack is on the bed, and a pair of men’s jeans are over the small rocking chair in the corner. He’s already gone. Good. Hurrying to my bag, I rip down the zipper and reach for my bathing suit. I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided buying a hot pink bikini with lollipops on it was smart. But I was day drunk and internet shopping to make myself and my high-interest credit card feel fulfilled.
Lake Redstone Page 3