Lake Redstone

by Hollyfield, J. D.

  His question adorns the walls of my smitten heart. My cheeks blush crimson at the mere vision of us after this weekend on not one, but two dates. Excitement settles in my core, and I swivel in his lap to suggest his bar when we’re interrupted by Jerry.

  “Hey, Casanova, your turn. How’d you two meet?” Our attention is stolen as everyone stares at us, inquisitive, waiting.

  Crap.

  Crap!

  Our perfect bubble pops. I become restless in Jim’s arms, forcing him to ease up on his hold. “Yeah, nothing great like Poppy and Mick’s story.” Leave it be. Leave it be.

  “No, I’d actually really like to hear this one,” June pipes in. I fight not to scowl at her. Since when has she been out to get me? I’m lost on what to say. I don’t have this answer. And the fidgeting of Jim behind me worries me he’s about to spill our dirty little secret.

  “Come on, man, spill! We’re all friends here. If it’s sappy, we promise not to make fun of you for too long.” Mick snorts out a laugh, and Poppy slaps him on his thigh. I watch Jim, heavy contemplation brewing, and my stomach takes a nosedive. He’s staring at Mick, guilt written all over his face. Goddammit, he’s going to tell them.

  “I mean…it’s kinda a funny story—”

  “Yeah, can I talk to you real quick?” I cut him off. There’s a flicker of confusion around the fire, but I can’t allow him to do this.

  “Case, it’s fine.”

  “Yeah, but can I talk to you? Alone? As in inside?” I get up, not giving him the option to answer with anything but a yes. I tug at his arm so he moves with me, and we walk up the small patch of grass until I’m pulling open the back door. Once he’s inside and the door shuts, I go to town.

  “What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

  He fumbles with what to say until he finally spits out, “What? Mick asked, and I couldn’t lie to him.”

  I throw my hands up, huffing loud enough to send a ripple across the lake. “Seriously? You’re willing to blow this whole thing up for me because you don’t want to lie to Mick?” I stare at him while he simmers on my question.

  “Listen. I think the gig is up anyway. June is on to us, and honestly, if she looks at me one more time with that sweet, I know what you did look, it’s only a matter of time before I panic and spill the beans anyway. And yes, I don’t want to lie to Mick. He’s great. Super talented. Has a great hairline. And is magic—”

  He shuts up when I throw my hands up again, almost snipping him in the nose. “Jesus Christ, you’re ridiculous!”

  He starts to jump on the frustration train by losing a bit of his own easy-going front. “What? Why is that ridiculous? That I like your friends and don’t want to lie? That it’s actually eating me alive to be so deceptive?”

  “Not my problem. The deal wasn’t to fall in love with my friends and sell me out.”

  “It wasn’t in our deal to end up falling for each other either, so…”

  His words hit me hard. He may as well have just sucker punched me. I didn’t plan this either, but I won’t let him sabotage it. “Not your call. You keep your mouth shut or you can pack up your stuff and leave.”

  His eyes widen in shock, but there’s no hiding the specs of anger that come along with it. His jaw tenses. He takes a deep breath. His hands thrust through his thick hair. “What are you so afraid of? You think so low of your friends, they’ll all turn their backs on you over a small fib?”

  “You know nothing about me and my friends. Stay out of it.”

  He takes a step toward me. “I know enough to see you’re too scared to let your friends see the real you. Admit you’re not as happy as you come off.”

  “That’s not true at all.”

  “Oh, it’s not? Do any of your friends know your real feelings about them? How you can’t stand all your decisions being under their microscope?”

  “Stop.”

  “No. Answer the question.”

  He steps even closer, and I thrust my arms out, pushing him away from me. “My friendships are none of your business!” I snap.

  “You made them my business when you hired me to play your perfect boyfriend for the weekend! When you embedded me into your life to pretend we’re so in love and perfect together. Well, now I’m fucking in it and it’s not fake anymore. I’m sick of lying. I don’t want to be your decoy. I like you, Casey, a lot, and I’m done playing this fake boyfriend game.”

  “Well, then just leave—”

  “You guys okay in here?” My head whips to Poppy.

  “Fine. Can you give us a moment?”

  “No, we don’t need a moment. We need to be honest.”

  I throw my burning eyes back at Jim. “No, we do not.”

  “Uh, can we go back to the hiring part?” Katie chimes in, standing next to Poppy. My eyes slam shut at her question. How much did she hear? When my eyes open, they hold a fierce anger toward Jim.

  “Actually, this conversation is over. We’re done here. Everyone can go back down to the fire.” I whip around, needing to push my nosy friends back down the hill, but Jim doesn’t let it go.

  “Why are you still hiding?”

  “I’m not hiding from anything!” I shout, spinning back around.

  “Bullshit!”

  “Bullshit?” I seethe, losing my gumption.

  “Whoa! Casey knows how to properly swear?”

  We both whip our heads back, and I give Katie the shut-up-or-ship-out death stare. Bringing my attention back to Jim, I continue. “You know what I’m hiding from? Judgment from every single person who has all these great things in their life and won’t stop comparing it to the ones who don’t have shit. I’m sick of being compared. Sick of being felt sorry for. I’m sick of trying to be the person everyone expects and hopes me to be! And now, I certainly don’t need you, a nobody, to judge me either.”

  There’s a harsh intake of breath behind me.

  “Yeah, I’m still gonna need you to go back to that hiring part.”

  “Stay out of this, Katie!” I lash out, my breathing heavy. But my harsh breaths aren’t the only ones pounding in my ear. Jim’s chest is rising and falling in thick, unforgiving pants. There’s no denying I hurt him with my selfish tyrant. My lower lip starts to tremble. I turn back to my friends, finding the rest of the crew observing a few feet back.

  They all heard.

  They all know.

  I bring my attention stare to Jim. “Happy now?”

  “Far from it,” he snaps back, then turns, giving me his back, as he walks farther into the house. My urge to run to him and apologize hits me hard, but my feet don’t move. “Where do you think you’re going?” I yell instead, staying combative.

  “Doing what my boss asked. I’m leaving.”

  I gasp at his admittance. He’s going to leave? My stomach tightens, nauseating guilt surging through me. How did we get here? The day started out so beautifully, and now we’re at war, the beautiful bubble we’ve so quickly created popping in such an ugly way. My heart hurts as much as my pride. I can feel the disappointed eyes of my friends searing into my back. “Feel free to quick pay me that five grand and I’ll be out of your hair, babe,” he mocks, heading up the stairs.

  Five grand? “Wait a minute! I’m not paying you five thousand dollars! My ad was for five hundred!” He stops and faces me. “Don’t think so, sweetheart. Five grand. Check your listing. No one would sign up for this for five hundred.” His insult burns into me, lashing at every insecurity I try so hard to keep buried. He dismisses the torment I expose through my stricken eyes. He doesn’t even offer me a flicker of compassion, his cold stare blank of any emotion he’s shown to me. Giving me his back once again, he continues his trek up the stairs.

  “You’re crazy. I’m not paying you five thousand dollars. You didn’t even do what you were supposed to!” I yell. My callous words are far from the real torment stabbing holes inside my chest. I bite the inside of my lip, hoping he comes back. Fight with me. For me. Give me just a gl
ance of compassion I need to break down the stubbornness that’s ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in so long. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say another word, the slamming of the bedroom door ending the conversation.

  My walls go back up, my anger standing guard. I stomp my foot on the ground and grumble, until I remember my friends are all at my back. I turn to face them, my face hot. “You all enjoy the show? Next one starts in about fifteen minutes,” I bite out and walk off down the hill before they witness my messy sob show.

  Not much of anything else was said after our blowout. Jim disappeared one way, and I the other. I didn’t bother going up to our room to see if he had slept there or packed his belongings and left. I made my way to the boat, and after crying and sulking over what a disaster my life had become—or had already been—I must have passed out.

  The rays of the morning sunshine are bright, stabbing me in the eyes. I stir in the small, twisty boat chair, groaning in discomfort. The faint scent of coffee seeps into my nostrils. I ping one eye open and peek to my left to see Poppy sitting next to me, sipping on a cup of joe. “Morning,” she says, her tone friendly.

  “Don’t.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  I shuffle in the seat and sit forward, my bones aching from being crammed in the chair all night. “Is he…?”

  “Yep. Slept on the couch. Shame. If I knew your room wasn’t being used, I would’ve moved up there. Mick’s snoring was out of control last night.”

  He didn’t leave—which means I have to face him, and I said some horrible things.

  “Is he up?”

  She nods “He is. Grumpy. Not even giving Mick the googly eyes. He was trying to call a ride, but Mick offered to take off early instead. So, if you’re done sleeping like a bum on this boat, let’s pack up and head home, ’kay?” She pats me on the shoulder, gets up, and hops off the boat.

  “Hey, Poppy?”

  She peers my way, her caring smile making me feel even worse. “I’m sorry. For last night. What you heard.”

  “No need to apologize to me. We all do crazy things. But I think you may want to use that apology on someone else. Don’t let your pride cloud what can be your future.” And with that, she heads up the hill.

  My pride. Which is me not being brave enough to admit my faults. When we were kids and Poppy and I would bicker or get into fights with neighboring kids, our parents would always say, if you’re the one who messed up, it’s time to fess up. While Poppy would always do the right thing, I would suddenly find a piece of fuzz on the wall, refusing to take any sort of responsibility. Even now, twenty years later, the thought of having to gear up and fess up has me in search of that piece of fuzz. How am I supposed to face my friends now without them looking down on me?

  I wish I could throw myself over the boat and drown into the deepest part of the lake to avoid the confrontation with Jim. With my friends. Avoid admitting I’m a liar and a fraud. Not only did I say some cruel things to Jim, I referred to my friends as insensitive and uncaring. I was upset, and some of those emotions translated into some hurtful words.

  I stare up at the house. It’s alive with everyone in and out, packing stuff into their cars. I throw the beach towel off me and stand, knowing I can’t avoid life and live on this boat forever.

  I hop off and make my way up. I spot June first. She smiles at me, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. She’s disappointed. Jason is throwing a cooler into the back of their SUV and ruffles the top of my head as I walk by. Jerry is sitting on a lawn chair, sleeping, while Katie organizes the extra coolers. “Hey, you want any of these leftover spritzers?” she asks as I pass.

  “All yours,” I reply, heading inside. My heart is starting to beat hard and fast. I’m scared to see him. Worried at the way he’ll look at me. The way he did last night when I threw those harsh jabs his way. When I make it upstairs into our shared room, it’s empty. His stuff has been cleared out, only leaving my belongings scattered around. I slowly pack, my mood slumping with each pair of clothes I jam into my bag. When I’m done, I head back outside where everyone is waiting to leave. Hugs and goodbyes are passed around, but I skip them and climb into the back of Poppy and Mick’s car. A part of me was hoping Jim would ride with someone else, but when I slide in, he’s already in the backseat, his head pressing against the window. He appears to have already fallen asleep. Which is good for me. I don’t know how to start off. What I should say. So, I get lucky, and say nothing at all. Poppy and Mick climb in and we make our four-hour trek home.

  Unlike Jim, I don’t sleep a wink. I spend the entire ride staring out the window, going back to everything I did wrong. He’s right. I should have never lied. I shouldn’t have put him in the position I did. Remorse sits heavily on my mind. I want to wake him up and tell him, but I also didn’t want to make another scene in front of my friends. I think he knows that too. A part of me feels he’s faking sleep. He had as much interest in going at it with me with an audience as I did. So, I let him pretend to sleep the whole way.

  I pull up the ad site where the whole stupid thing started, and low and behold, I had set the price to five thousand dollars. Looks like drinking margaritas and updating the ad with one eye open turned out to be a very costly mistake. For my heart—and my wallet.

  I do the only thing that’s right and quick pay through the app. I transfer my emergency fund money and hope it’s enough to cover the cost. I hear his phone ping, notifying him of my payment as we pull up to my apartment.

  “We’re here,” Poppy says. Jim wastes no time. Opening his door, he hops out.

  “Appreciate the hospitality,” is all he says before jogging down the street toward the bus stop. I jump out as well, calling for him, but he doesn’t turn around. The bus has impeccable timing. He jumps on as soon as it stops, disappearing into the sea of passengers.

  My shame only gets worse realizing Poppy and Mick witnessed the whole thing. Poppy calls my name, but I don’t bother stopping to address her. Without going back for my backpack, I escape inside my building.

  Casey

  Three weeks later…

  Man, life is good.

  Hot though, because this sun is scorching my skin. I’m blaring the words to Bon Jovi’s ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’, possibly sounding like a howling dog in heat, while sunbathing on the roof of my building. The good thing about being unemployed and half the tenants at real jobs, no one is around to yell at you for blasting eighties music and singing at the top of your lungs.

  They also probably get paychecks and feel pride in themselves for not being losers.

  Well, they’re all also sober, so I win. I take a sip of my third margarita, which is super tasty since I added half a can of lime spritzer to it. An incoming call interrupts the best part of the song, and I decline it. I get back to bellowing more lyrics when my phone rings again. “Seriously, no manners!” I sit up and pull my shades down to see Poppy calling for the forty-billionth time. I give her the end button like I’ve done every time she’s called, and drop my phone, setting my shades back in place.

  When I threw myself into my apartment that day, a few things happened. I got mad. How dare Jim sell me out like that. I paid him his money, he should have apologized for selling me out. I even went as far as trying to call him to tell him off. It was then I realized I didn’t even have his number. So, I opened the app, but his profile had been deleted. I huffed and puffed until the anger shifted to sorrow.

  I shouldn’t have put him in the position I did. I shouldn’t have put anyone in it. I need to grow up and accept I’m not going to be like everyone else—be happy with who I am, and not worry so much about what people think of me. If my friends were my friends, they would accept me for the loser I am. And all I had to do was pick up the phone and tell them that. Apologize for betraying their trust and hope they accept it and move forward from this disastrous situation.

  Then again, I’m a coward. Disappearing and no longer having friends was a lot easier than suck
ing up my pride. I couldn’t face Poppy. I definitely couldn’t face scary June. I bet Katie would take it the best, but still, the questions on top of questions they would ask. I want to avoid those.

  So, I’m avoiding everyone.

  Poppy and I had a great run, but she’ll find a new best friend. Same with June and Katie. And I’ll stick to being the same ol’ me, running my life like a wild freight train with no working brakes headed straight for a steep cliff.

  I denied the aching feeling in my heart when little things would trigger thoughts of Jim. Meat, mostly. How the hell does raw meat in a local grocery store scream, “I really liked you and I messed up, so start getting emotional right in this store and throw the hamburger buns at the dude waiting in line next to you”?

  Let’s not mention the way he’s tainted music for me. All the words of every song that plays sing through my speakers, out to get me, every verse a lyrical jab. Why do so many people sing about being wronged? Like, I get it! I’m a huge jerk!

  Days went by, and weeks, and it all still felt like a million pounds resting on my shoulders. There’s no denying my guilt is totally deserved. But the regret is what’s pulling me down. I missed our first date, or what was to come of it. I miss his laugh. His smell, his lips. I miss how he made me feel human, not like such a screw up.

  I miss him.

  I resorted to drinking because at least that didn’t make me feel like such a disappointment. But then it made me feel like a disappointment when even that would betray me, my emotional side taking the wheel and turning me into a blubbering mess—and nothing on Google would tell me how to turn back time. My now only friend, Olivia, from the coffee shop suggested witchcraft, but I’d probably turn myself into a toad before conjuring up a spell to make Jim fall at my doorstep begging me to take him back.