by Avery Aster
“Shel!” I knock on the side of the truck. “Are you gonna help me up?”
The door opens. Without saying a word, he comes down and helps me into the truck.
“Got ya some fries.” I hand him the bag as he takes the wheel and thanks me. “May I drive Stone Cold home?” I ask, batting my lashes with every ounce of flirtation I’ve got left.
“Another night,” he replies almost curtly. But I detect a slight layer of amusement on his lips as he gazes up at me.
I’m unable to contain myself. I want answers. “Why did you bolt like that?”
“Sorry. I wasn’t… I didn’t….” He pops a fry in his mouth, chews, and then asks, “Is it always like this for you?”
“Pretty much.” A thickness rises in in my throat.
He sighs.
Unsure of how to respond, I shoot him a blank stare, involuntarily hunch my shoulders, and ask, “Didn’t Taddy prep you?”
“Kiki did, actually. She had me watch a few clips of your TV shows.”
I offer a smile in his direction, but my gaze hits the floor. I don’t know why, but I feel like I owe him an apology. He shifts the gears. Silence swells between us like some thick morning Manhattan fog. Just as I think whatever he and I had is completely and utterly over, he surprises me by reaching for my hand, causing a warmness and peace to rush through my body as if I took a Xanax.
“If we do this show together, do you think you can handle the attention for a few weeks?”
“No,” he says matter-of-fact. “I don’t want everyone knowing my whereabouts or my business. Nor do I want to be photographed.” A sheer heat of anger comes off him as he finishes, “I can’t do that TV show with you.”
Exhausted, I press my neck and shoulders into the back of the seat, fighting off the tears of failure from streaking down my face. Rejection never gets easy, even if it’s just make-believe.
“This has nothing to do with you, Neve. I didn’t realize just how public your life truly is.”
“No worries.” Acting like it’s no big deal, I try not to get choked up. “The show is a stupid idea anyways. Kiki pushed for it. I just saw the projected rating for the show and dove in feet first at the chance. I tend to do that with most things in my life: jump first, ask questions later.”
“Me too,” he confirms with some hesitation.
Stone Cold crosses over the bridge going toward the city. I think about him and me getting married. It just pops into my head and I can’t seem to shake it, so I ask, “Do you believe in marriage?”
“No. I don’t believe in love or happily ever after either.”
“Wow.” Speechless, I clear my throat.
“Well, you asked.”
“Why don’t you believe in any of those things?”
“Because they’re not practical.”
“Life can be inconvenient at times. Can’t it?” I keep my voice steady. Last thing I want is to reveal my emotion. Notions of my career tanking, like a falling dead bird out of the New York City skies, can wait until I got home to hit me. At home I can scream, cry, and throw myself a pity party with cake. However, right now, I try to tune out the ringing of failure in my ears, especially from the stress of all of this.
I take a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds to collect myself as Sheldon continues to drive down the West Side Highway. I’ll be home in five minutes. That’s all the time I have left to persuade him to change his mind.
My thoughts search for a backup strategy to seal this TV deal.
Sex? Who am I kidding? I’m a virgin.
Beg? Something tells me my career desperation won’t appeal to him.
“What are you gonna do for money?” I crack the window, allowing fresh air into the cabin.
“Not your TV show,” he replies quickly.
“If you don’t believe in love, marriage, or happily ever after, then why not take advantage of those who do and go on Celebrity Newlywed Boot Camp with me?” Yes, I’m playing to his senses. Nervous, I press my feet on the floor and sit on my hands, trying to contain myself.
Sheldon pulls onto my block, the trees lining one side and the streetlights on the other. He hits the brakes. “Because it’s one big fat lie. And there’s one thing in life that I pride myself on and that’s being honest.” He throws the truck into park and crosses his muscular inked forearms over his broad chest.
Hmmm. Why can’t we go back to kissing and him guessing my perfume?
“Shel, this is TV. It’s not real. You’ll play a part and get paid very handsomely.”
“I’m not an actor.”
“Well, I’m not a monster truck driver, but I sure as fudge did that today.” I laugh so hard that he grins endearingly at me.
“Thank you for tonight. Up to the burger selfie moment, I was having a great time.” Sheldon’s hand tightens around mine. His skin is rough and callused.
“Would you like to come up for a nightcap?” I ask, realizing I don’t have any liquor in the house. I never stock that poison. Thanks, Mama!
“No. I don’t drink. Besides, it’s getting late. I promised my son I’d be home soon.”
“If you should wake up tomorrow with a change of heart, call and let me know. See, I’d already blocked the entire day off for us to go to the courthouse and get married. Lex Easton even gave me a white dress.”
“Really?” His chin dips and his dark eyes narrow.
God, he’s sexy.
“I didn’t think you’d say no to getting married.”
“Neither did I.” He leans over and kisses me politely on the cheek.
The passion he’d felt earlier for me has clearly faded.
He climbs out of the truck and helps me down. Closing the door, we stand on the corner of Borrow and Hudson Street. For a minute I wonder if I’ll ever see this man again. I want to, if not for business then for pleasure. Hell yes, especially for pleasure.
The night air cools my edgy nerves, giving me enough guts to ask one more time.
“Please, Shel. I know you don’t know me at all, but I really need to be on this show. It’s not about the money for me. Celebrity Newlywed Boot Camp is much bigger than that. See, I have to revive my brand. This show will do that. The payout is a half million for each of us. What if I give you my share? Yes, all of the money.”
Oh, you can hear a pin drop for sure.
“One million dollars?” His dark brown eyes nearly pop out of his handsome face.
“With all that money, you’ll surely have yourself a very Merry Christmas, now won’t ya? Please, Shel, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, do this show with me.”
His arms come wide as he hugs me, first close and then tight. He kisses my neck and for a second I think he’s going to say yes.
“I can’t, Neve. I’m sorry.”
A tingle of embarrassment sweeps up the back of my neck and across my face. I struggle with what to say or do next. Before I muster enough energy to ask one more time, Mr. Tall, Sexy, Inked, Hung, Bearded, Striking, Masculine, Monster-truck-driving, Works-with-his-hands, Talented-kisser Sheldon climbs back into his truck, and drives away.
Crap!
The Following Morning
Ruby Crundwell Strikes Again
Harlem
Sheldon
Rolling out of bed, I think about last night. The smell of Neve’s beauty lingers on me. She’s a fun girl, and with that bubbly laugh, her gorgeous skin, and those voluptuous breasts, any guy would be lucky to have her. So why hasn’t she found that someone special?
My phone rings. The screen flashes ‘Fairfield Prison.’
Errr.
“Hello.”
“You have a collect call from Inmate 4245903, Ruby Crundwell,” says an automatic robotic voice. “Will you accept the charges?”
“Yes.” My response naturally causes my jaw to tighten.
“Morning, Sheldon.”
Ugh. I lean my head out the bedroom door, turning unwillingly toward Liam’s room. “He’s still asleep, Ruby.
”
“I’m not calling to talk to him.” Her voice is bright and cheery, which is unusual considering Ruby is one of, if not the, most miserable and unhappy woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, let alone fucked.
“What do you want?” A slight chill comes over me.
“As you know, I was supposed to be released in January.”
“Let me guess, they’re keeping you longer?” Joy fills me. Yes, it’s wrong to get pleasure from other folk’s pain, but not when it’s Ruby Crundwell. Her list of wrongdoings makes me look like a saint.
Ugliness fills my ear as she forces a fake laugh. “No, silly. I’m being released on Christmas Eve. I’ll get to spend the holidays with
my son. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Tightening my free hand into a fist, I pause to select my words carefully.
“Liam and I are spending Christmas together with my brother, Taddy, and all of the Manhattanites.”
“Doing what?” she seethes.
“Warner is treating us to a stay at his Saint Barth hotel. Liam is going to snorkel and swim with the dolphins.”
For whatever reason, when Liam is in the ocean, he’s calm and focused, and he enjoys seeing the sea life. My brother’s hotel, Secrete de Saint Barth, is a place where Liam can be a peace.
“Since when do you accept free trips?”
“It’s Liam’s Christmas present from his uncle. Don’t be like that.”
“I’ve been locked away from Liam for almost two years. You can’t take this moment from me. Sheldon, come on,” she barks hastily.
“Is your incarceration unjust?” I ask this because I honestly don’t think she has any remorse for the misery she caused all those taxpayers, stealing their money and ruining the city’s finances. Some of her colleagues killed themselves over it all.
“That isn’t the subject at hand here, Sheldon. You agreed to watch Liam as long as I was in here. And now I’m getting out.”
“So…?” My scalp starts to prickle.
“He’s coming home with me on Christmas Eve,” she blurts, unaware of her tone.
“You mean he’s coming home to be in the arms of one of your three nannies?” My gaze flicks upward. There’s a dead fly in the dome of the ceiling lamp. As much as I should clean the apartment, I’d much rather spend all my free time playing with Liam.
“Excuse me?” she snaps as I scrub a hand over my face in frustration.
“When you had Liam, you didn’t actually care for him. I’ve secured written statements from all three of his caretakers retained by you over the years.” I reveal a clue of my intentions.
“Written statements? Why would you do that? You can get him every other weekend, Father’s Day, and Halloween.”
“He’s not a Ping-Pong ball you can bounce around from home to home. If you’d spent any time with Liam, you’d know damn well that, with his autism, he cannot handle being shuffled around like that.” Eyes squinting, muscles quivering, nostrils flaring, my stomach pains and hardens as if the onset of an ulcer is forming.
“Don’t start, Sheldon. You are not his mother. The judge will rule in my favor.”
I growl before reminding, “You’re a convict. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Sheldon, if you don’t give Liam to me on Christmas Eve I will be pressing charges against you for kidnapping.”
“Bring it on, Ruby. Bring. It. On!” With that, I hang up.
Unbelievable. I make coffee and get ready for Liam. The conversation with Ruby plays in constant repeat over and over again in my head. Gritting my teeth, I feel as if my brain is going to explode.
I don’t have the money it’ll take to fight Ruby in court. And while she is a criminal, she does have cash stashed in offshore bank accounts, which will more than pay for the best lawyers in town to kick my parental ass.
As much I don’t get a thrill out of it, I’ll turn to fixing automobiles for a while until an airplane mechanic position opens. I get Liam up, feed him, and we go over his schedule for the day He’s learning his numbers, and letters. Then we walk to his school, Therapeutic Approach Academy. His tuition there is around thirty thousand. Fortunately, before I got laid off, I’d paid for his year there with my savings. My brother offered to help out, but I can’t accept such a generous gift. In hopes that Liam will win something, I fill out the paperwork for merit- and need-based scholarships whenever they’re available.
Back home, I sip my coffee slowly as I turn the pages of the paper looking for a job as well as today’s weather. I heard we might be getting a little bit of snow.
“What the—” There’s my face on page six with Neve. The headline reads ‘Neve Gets Dirty With New Hunk.’ As I read the article, which has my age wrong, my last name misspelled, and says that I’m a professional monster truck driver, which I’m not, I laugh at the farce of it all.
I wonder if the newspaper knew our date was a PR stunt created by Brill, Inc. And if they did know, do they really care that they’re reporting something to their readers that isn’t true? Is all tabloid media merely entertainment and not at all factual?
“Guess that’s what Neve was talking about. This is all make-believe,” I say out loud, realizing maybe I could go through with it. Without overthinking this any more than I already have, I pick up the phone and call Neve.
“Hello there, Shel,” she answers in a loud voice after the fifth ring.
“Morning,” I reply with some reservation.
“I had fun last night,” she admits, seeming distracted.
“Me too.”
“Mind if I call ya back later? I’m a little busy right now.” Her tone becomes dismissive.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll never believe this, but I found a man to marry.” She laughs almost arrogantly into the phone.
“Who?” My throat contracts as I feel the million dollars slipping through my fingers.
“Blake’s bestie, Thor Edwards.”
“The rich gay socialite?”
“Yes, he’s a homosexual. So what? The LGBT community loves me.”
“Neve!” I don’t know what to say. That’s taking this charade in a whole new direction.
“Hey, it worked for Kris and Bruce for a while. You know, before he became Caitlyn. Their ratings went through the roof.” Her voice rises an octave. “We’re heading down to the courthouse now. I gotta go, Shel. I’ll talk to ya after our honeymoon. We’re jetting off to Key West tomorrow to take in some sun before we start filming the show.” She hangs up.
Thor Edwards.
Kris and Bruce.
Key West, Florida.
You have gotta be kidding me!
Here Comes The Bride
Midtown
Neve
“Miss Thang, you are hysterical,” Blake says to me, while sipping on a mimosa in his office.
“Will Thor mind us using his name like that?”
“Mind? No. Miss Adele, he’ll be flattered,” Kiki commented, as if the answer is obvious.
“Think Sheldon is going to fall for this?” I glance at them and release an impatient huff.
My phone vibrates with a text: Don’t marry Thor. Marry Me. Meet U @ courthouse.
Oh my. Covering my mouth with one hand, I hold up the screen so Blake and Kiki can read it. They slap each other a high five, chanting, “It worked!”
This past month’s tension leaves my body as if I’d suddenly seen a chiropractor.
“We better get in the car and make our way downtown.”
“I got the tuxedo in Sheldon’s measurements.” Kiki throws it over her arm.
“How did you know his size?” I ask.
“I guessed. Here’s a forty-long suit jacket with a thirty-three waist and a thirty-six inseam in the legs for the slacks.”
“Damn, girl, you’re good.”
“When you’ve worked in fashion public relations for as long as I have, you can size up anyone with a blink of an eye.” Kiki winks at me.
Blake studies
my face. “They did a fierce job on your makeup this morning.”
“What if Sheldon had never called? All of this would’ve been for nothing.” Even I’m impressed with how smoothly we went from last night’s ‘no way’ to today’s ‘hell yes.’
“Ummm, hello? Of course he called.” Blake stretches out his long legs before standing. “I’m sure seeing the news this morning that Ruby Crundwell is being released early from prison sent his head spinning. Not to mention the required boost to his bank account to hire an attorney.”
“Not sure I know the full story about all of that,” I admit. Taddy had mentioned something about his son’s mother, but I honestly can’t remember. It all sounded so legal. That reminds me….
“Kiki, do you have the prenup?”
“Check.”
“My veil?”
“Check.”
“Has all the press been notified?”
“Duh,” Blake snaps as we make our way out of the office.
The Brill, Inc. driver slowly moves through traffic on the FDR heading south. Realizing my makeup was applied with a heavy hand this morning, I try to soften the cheeks and eye shadow.
“Leave it,” Blake demands.
Kiki, a modest Mormon girl from Utah, hands me a tissue and mouths, “Ignore him.”
Our SUV pulls up to the corner of Lafayette and Worth Street. I glance out the window for Stone Cold. No sight of him. We wait. I look at my phone. No texts. A few minutes pass, then a half hour, and still no messages.
“Maybe he isn’t coming,” I pout, noticing the paparazzi starting to gather at the entrance. Patience fading, I text him: @ Taddy’s red Escalade out front. Have clothes 4 U. Meet us here. We go in together.
“Sheldon is probably stuck in traffic,” Kiki sympathizes.
“Look!” Blake shouts as Stone Cold pulls up behind us.
Soothing my nerves, a sense of relief washes over me as I flop back in the seat.
“Where’s my bride?” Sheldon asks as he opens the back door to the SUV and slides in.