“I could see that anytime I wanted. I created the game. Remember? I could strip you right here in front of me if I wanted to. Can we go now? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, okay,” I reluctantly agreed, following him out and down the hall. It wasn’t dark with creepy music anymore. The white walls looked brand new with modern paintings of exotic places, mountains, rainforests, oceans, and city views. They were beautiful.
“Wow, I love this, Beer Guy,” I said, stopping at one of the paintings. It was dark, almost creepy like an enchanted forest.
“Stop calling me Beer Guy. My name’s Becker.”
And there it was. Set in stone. I knew it.
“That painting is from Costa Rica. The rock is flat and smooth as silk. The water just drops off. It’s breathtaking.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Only virtually. I plan on visiting there some day.”
“Is your entire life virtual?” I asked, moving along with him.
We walked down a duel set of stairs, also sporting the white shine look. I looked around the beautiful home, descending the stairs with Becker, wondering if this was his home in real life, or just in the virtual game.
“It’s safer this way.”
“Safer? What does that mean?” I asked. I wasn’t so interested in Becker Cole all of a sudden. I wasn’t interested in safe anymore. I had enough safe in my life. Becker lived in a virtual world. How much safer could I get? He couldn’t touch me.
“Hmm, I guess I mean, I like to do things outside the home, too. It’s just not necessary to have a good time.”
“Like what do you mean?” I asked, knowing exactly what he did for fun, or who he did for fun I should say.
“You ask too many unimportant questions. Go right.”
I turned right and took the glass elevator up the side of the building, overlooking the made-up city. Magically, we weren’t in the extravagant house anymore. For a game, it was pretty neat. Looking at a downward angle, my stomach fluttered a little as we ascended, going higher and higher. The doors opened to the rooftop with an elegant table for two. A pianist played a delicate tune and a waiter pulled out our chairs.
“Would you like the red or the white, Miss?” he asked, bowing with one of the chilled bottles.
“Um.”
“She’ll have the red, Mason,” Becker answered for me. I was still trying to figure out how I could hear him.
“Can he hear us?” I whispered. Both Becker and Mason laughed.
“Yes. He can hear you. You don’t have to whisper. He needs to hear you in order to give you what you like. Is there something specific I can get for you? What’s your favorite dish?”
“Hmm, that’s a tricky one. I don’t really have a favorite I guess. I like pizza.”
“What are you twelve?”
“Matt says I am,” I said, more to myself than to Becker.
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind. I’ll just let you order,” I decided. I didn’t know what to pick, surely fish sticks wouldn’t be on the menu.
“Do you like seafood?”
“I think so. It’s been a while since I’ve had it. My friend Justine and I ate at a seafood buffet last summer when we took a road trip to see Pink.”
“Pink?”
“Yeah, the singer. Best concert I’ve ever been to. Well, it was only the second, but still the best.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“You should check her out.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he agreed. He was lying. He wouldn’t check her out. I bet he listened to Mozart and Chopin. I was beginning to get the stuffy vibe from him. “How about the marinated grilled shrimp? It’s delicious. You’ll love it.” He really didn’t give me a chance to respond. He turned to Mason and ordered. “Can we get the shellfish pasta with asparagus and the cheddar biscuits? That’ll be all. Thank you.” He looked at me and asked, “What?”
“What? What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You laughed. Why did you laugh?”
I laughed again. “I guess I find it a little ridiculous at you ordering our dinners, wait, pretending to order our meals.” I giggled at the silly game, but if I confessed the truth, my mouth salivated at the thought of what Becker had just fake ordered for us.
“Did you not like what I chose?”
“I loved what you chose. It’s the whole pretending thing that’s ridiculous. Hey, hang on. Someone’s at my door.” I walked away from my laptop, wondering who in the world would be at my door. I paid the paperboy, didn’t I?
“Miss Cass?” the man dressed in black attire questioned.
“Um, yeah,” I managed, hearing the echo of his voice. I turned back to my laptop, watching the man dressed just like Mason move past me. I was speechless. I just stood there, astonished.
Mason moved the clutter of magazines and mail from the end of the table. Sliding my laptop to face me on the table, he pulled the chair out for me with a smile and a nod.
I closed the door and walked to my requested seat. If I thought my mouth was watering before, that was nothing. I could smell butter and garlic. I knew what was under the silver platter. I wasn’t eating from a box. I sat and looked up to the game. Mason was serving us the same dish on the screen.
“Thank Mason, Cass,” I heard Becker in my speakers.
“Are you really Mason?” I asked, looking up.
He smiled. “Nah, that is,” he said as he pointed to the cartoon character.
I laughed. I liked Mason already. He held out his hand and I took it.
He shook three quick times. “My name is Mason. I work for Mr. Cole. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss…?”
“Just Cass is fine. I’m very pleased to meet you, too.”
Mason nodded and saw himself to the door.
“Oh, hey,” I said, taking a few quick strides toward him. “Can you not tell Becker how messy my house is? I just got back from a long vacation and haven’t had much time,” I lied, embarrassed about the condition of my house. I was for real going to clean it the next day.
Glancing to my television, I heard my favorite infomercial speaker. Guy Nelson. He had a very distinguished voice.
“It’s junk, besides, your phone will do the same thing,” Mason smiled, nodded, and left.
Looking back to Guy Nelson, demonstrating the digital magnet picture frame, I turned back to the closed door, staring after him in a daze. That’s when the fact that he knew my address hit me. My dad would be so proud of me. I was too excited about the food to think about what should have come to mind first. How did he know where I lived? Why did he know where I lived?
“Um, Becker?” I said, sitting in front of my scrumptious dinner. I would never be able to eat it all, but at least I would have something to look forward to Saturday night.
“Yeah?”
“How do you know where I live?”
“I hacked your computer. Did you know your electric bill was past due?”
“Yeah, I’ll go pay it before noon tomorrow.” Really Cass? The guy hacks your computer, and you tell him you’ll take care of your electric bill? “I mean, why? Why would you hack my computer? That’s illegal. I could have you arrested.”
“No. You’d have to have proof for that. I’m a computer genius. I’d never leave tracks.”
“But why are you so curious?” I wondered if this was the beginning of the end. Did he know who my father was? Did he know I was a private investigator? Was he just playing me now?
“Why are you so curious about me? Why are you Googling my name? Why are you searching forums about me, and how did you end up in the picked room?” he countered, firing his own questions at me like a semiautomatic. I couldn’t keep up.
“The picked room?” I remembered that part.
“Yes. That room wasn’t for you. I didn’t pick you. It was designed for a very special person.”
“Who?” Who? Oh my god, Cass. Stop talking. Who? I didn’t care who.
“I do
n’t know yet. You never gave me time to figure that out. Now I have a glitch in my game and no matter what I do, nobody else can get in there but you. You ruined the whole project. Do you have any idea how long that room took me to design? Who are you?”
Well, hell. This wasn’t going as planned. “Well, let me take a bite of this shrimp and if I don’t die, I’ll tell you.”
“Why would you die?”
“Oh, just in case I’m being poisoned right now or something. Oh my god. If I’m dying. I’m dying a very happy girl. This is delicious.”
“You’re stalling.”
“No. It’s really good,” I assured him. I was stalling, trying to come up with something. Wishing I knew how much he knew, I took another bite. “Look, you’re reading more into it than you should. It was nothing but curiosity. You should know by hacking my computer how boring my life is. I watched you on the morning show and I was intrigued. You know, your young age and all that you’ve accomplished. It fascinates me,” I lied my ass off, rambling on and on about shit that made no sense to me, let alone him. He knew it. He knew I was feeding him a line of shit.
What was most bothersome was he didn’t call me out on it. He moved on. We talked about movies, sports, cars, and computers, oh and Snowball. We walked along Glitter City, took a carriage around the dimly lit park, and had a cup of coffee by the bay. It was easy for me to pretend with him. As stupid as the game was, I could almost envision this perfect date, except maybe the suspense. I got off too easy on that one. Even I knew it wasn’t that simple.
“What was that?” Becker asked.
“Snowball,” I said, kicking him away again. The mention of his name triggered my responsibility button. I always fed him right before I ate. I jumped up and ran to the kitchen. Poor kitty, it was nearly three hours past his supper. As soon as I mentioned his name, I was up and running for the kitchen.
“Cass? Cass?”
“Hang on,” I yelled.
“Who are you apologizing to? Cass?”
“Hang on. Give me two minutes,” I yelled out again, quickly dumping the can of food to the dish on the floor. “Sorry, buddy,” I said, rubbing under his neck.
“Sorry. My cat. I’ve been kicking him away for two hours. He kept meowing and rubbing against my legs. I forgot to feed him,” I admitted.
“You’re one of a kind, Cassie,” he said with a laugh.
I didn’t get mad when he called me Cassie. I didn’t feel like he said it to insinuate that I was an immature child, not like Matt did. It sounded, ohm… sexy.
“That’s probably a good thing. Thank you for the food. It was divine,” I added, hoping he would take the hint. I was tired and hadn’t had a shower yet. Sitting in the car with Matt all day wore me out.
“Are you asking me to walk you to your room?”
“Sure, freak, why not?”
Becker walked my fake girl to the curb and a car picked them up. How the hell did he do that? I was sure no one else in the game could do the things he did. I shook my head when I watched him hold my hand in the car.
“Are you okay with this?”
“With you holding my hand? Sure,” I said, happy he couldn’t see the amused look on my face.
“Stop looking like that. Just try to take me serious, would you?”
“Of course. You’re a computer nerd. You fixed it so my camera automatically comes on, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, and I’ve wanted to tell you for hours now about the marinara sauce on the tip of your nose. It’s growing on me. Leave it there. It’s cute.”
“Oh my god,” I said, scrubbing the end of my nose. “I could have picked my nose or something.”
“We really shouldn’t start our relationship based on lies, you know. The faces you make give you away.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t make those faces in front of you.” That’s the way to tell him, I thought, rolling my eyes.
“See. Like that.”
“What?”
“You think you just said something stupid and expressed it with your eyes. You know that look you give behind other people’s backs when you want them to shut up? You just did that.”
“I did not.”
“You did. Go on a real date with me tomorrow night.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t even know you.”
“You know me enough to know I’m not out to hurt you. You trust that much, don’t you?”
“I guess so.” Holy shit. I wanted to go. I wanted to go see what this guy had that three girls were willing to share.
“Then say yes.”
“I’ll sleep on it.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“We’ll see.”
Becker walked me to my room and stopped.
“Don’t roll your eyes,” he ordered.
“I’m sorry, but I get the sense that you’re about to kiss me on my screen with a fake person, and then you’re going to yell at me for laughing.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Me or the fake people?”
“You think you need physical contact to be in love?”
“Well, yeah. You sort of do.”
“I disagree. I will show you tomorrow night.”
“Show me what?”
“I’ll show you how it feels to want a man more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.”
“Yeah, sure you will.” Great, another stuck-on-yourself Matt. Just what I needed.
Chapter 7
“Well, who is it? I should go with you,” Justine suggested while I searched her closet for something nice to wear. I wasn’t going to find anything in my own closet, not for a date anyway.
“Just a guy. What about this?” I asked, holding up a white chiffon dress.
“No. Your hair’s too blonde. It’ll wash you out too much. Try the red one on the right. Do you know where he’s taking you?”
Becker liked me in white. I think.
“No, but I’m sure it’s going to be somewhere really nice, maybe even fancy.”
“I don’t like it, Cass. If your dad found out you went on a blind date, he’d kill you. He couldn’t handle something happening to you.”
“He doesn’t even know I exist most times. It’ll be fine. And I love this.” I smiled, happy she had something. I really didn’t want to go shopping for a dress I’d wear once.
“I’m going to be texting you all night. What’s his name? First and last? Do you have a phone number for him? I want that, too.”
“Justine? Don’t. You sound like my dad. I’ll be fine,” I said with a tone.
She understood, loud and clear. She dropped it.
Great, way to go, Captain Dummy. If I did get kidnapped and turned into the fourth wife, nobody would know it. I’d never be found.
I tried to replica the way my hair looked the night before. It wasn’t as easy as clicking on it, though. I ended up wearing it down, straightening it and adding a rose pin to the side. The black and red heels went nicely with the strapless dress but were hell to walk in.
Staring out to the street for the tenth time, I tried to calm my nerves.
I loved listening to the sound of my mother’s heels walking across the hardwood floors. I think she did it to look sexy for my dad. She only put them on when it was time for him. I think he must have liked them. Did Becker like heels? Did all guys like heels?
My feet remained planted. I watched Mason get out of the black car and open Becker’s door. My plummeting heart wouldn’t let my body move. He didn’t look like I’d pictured him. His game character looked bigger on the screen than what I was picturing. I jumped at the sound of the doorbell. Looking around, I grabbed my borrowed handbag and my phone. I had all intentions of cleaning up, I just didn’t get around to it. Sunday was a lazy day. I’d do it Sunday before the work week started.
“Hi,” I said, slipping through the small opening. “Snowball. He doesn’t really like strangers,” I lied.
“You
look even more beautiful than I pictured.”
“You look smaller.” Okay. I was making a conscious effort to shut the fuck up. Answer with yes, no, or thank you. Smaller? Oh my god, Cass.
Becker laughed, directing his hand toward the car.
“That’s not what I meant,” I countered. Shut up, Cass. “I mean, you’re tall, just not very bulky.” That’s it. I needed a chastity belt for my mouth. One that wouldn’t allow stupid to fall out.
Becker stopped, just before opening my door. “I’m going to let you off the hook and just say thank you.”
“That’s very kind of you.” I smiled, tilting my head. He smiled, too, and opened my door. “Good evening, Mason.” I nodded before getting in.
“Good evening, Cass.” He smiled warmly, remembering my name.
The time passed quickly with laughter and conversation. The distance and amount of time it was taking us to get there didn’t go unnoticed. I was having fun. I could almost see why girls swooned over him. He was charming, funny, smart, and very quick witted. Mason was, too. I laughed at the two of them telling a story of trying to shoo a chipmunk out of the garage.
Mason laughed, telling how Becker screamed like a little girl when he swept the little creature out with a broom.
“Did you see the look on that thing? He was out for blood,” Becker argued, trying to protect his manhood.
I thought it was cute. I didn’t want to like him like that. It was an investigation about the three brides I was sure wasn’t there due to being forced. Becker wouldn’t do that. I could tell that already, and he was perfect. They probably did like being there. I mean, he had money, he had the looks, he had the cars, the help, the house, and he was so nice. I didn’t think he was an arrogant playboy at all.
“Where are we going?” I asked in a quiet voice when Mason stopped to type in a code.
“My house. We’re having dinner on the rooftop.”
“Of your house?”
“Yes. It’s as lovely as it was last night after dark. The stars are way more exciting than the city lights.”
“I’m not sure I should go to your house. I mean I don’t even know you. What if you don’t let me leave?” Another laugh.
Picked Page 6