Playing Pretend Box Set

by Natasha L. Black

  “You weren’t joking,” she said, but there was finally something of a smile in it.

  “Nope. Say hello to your husband, baby.”

  She couldn’t help chuckling at that. For those few moments, it almost felt like things were normal. Like we were just a regular man and woman getting to know each other.

  But then Naomi said, “So when would I have to see them first?” and I remembered.

  “In a week, most likely. That’s when their plane is due to arrive. I’ll give you lots of notice, of course.”

  “Fine,” she finally said.

  “Really?” I asked, not bothering to hide the surprise in my voice.

  “Really.”

  On the floor, through his shaggy hair, Walter was eyeing me as derisively as I probably deserved.

  “Thank you, Naomi.” I said and hung up.

  On the floor, Walter didn’t react, just kept on staring.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  The phone call had woken me up, got me all energized and restless. So, I went to the door and slipped into my Nikes. It was time for a run.

  Even though I’d gotten an agreement of sorts out of Naomi, that didn’t mean the problem was solved.

  The real question wasn’t what my family would do when they met Naomi. The real question was what Naomi would do when she met my family.

  5

  Naomi

  I woke up to a knock on my door. As soon as it opened – I knew.

  Xander was shirtless and looked fully aware of the fact. His blue eyes pierced me. Yeah, the chances of this being a dream, were a solid one hundred percent. And yet… the scent of him. Pure male musk curled around me.

  “What is it?” I asked Dream Xander.

  “You know what,” he said, and the next second, he was showing me.

  He mounted my bed like he owned it, and then did the same to me. All I could do was groan as his lips claimed mine. He tasted like honey and his movement was fluid. Lip twisted on lip and the rightness of it all clashed with the way my heart was somersaulting.

  Pulling away was only part of the dance; the give and take. Pulling back a few inches, I took his lower lip with me. His hands toyed with the tie on my pajama top. Opening it gave him permission to enjoy its contents, and next thing I knew his palms were rolling over my nipples. He tweaked one and grinned. And then, he put his hand where we both wanted it to be.

  My pussy sang as his fingers pressed between my legs. So, this was what it was to give into pure desire. He pulled down my pajama bottoms as I reached out to stroke the impressive length of him through his boxers.

  We kissed and touched and fumbled with clothing, trying to get as close to one another as we could.

  His muscles seemed in constant movement, tensed and flexed. My bed was creaking, and I had to remind myself that it didn’t matter anymore, that I’d finally gotten rid of that nosy roommate two months ago.

  As if sensing my momentary distraction, Xander took my chin between his fingers and angled it to face him.

  “Eyes on me,” he said. And that was when he entered me.

  My eyes snapped open and I groaned. I was alone in my room, wet, panting, and overheated. My fingers inched toward the ache between my legs.

  I stopped halfway there, wrestled myself out of my covers and into the over-air-conditioned air. I’d be so uncomfortable that I’d have no choice but to get up and out of bed.

  Staying there and touching myself while thinking about Xander was not an option. I was so not going there. So what if Xander was hot? He was also a complete jerk who was asking me to lie to his entire family.

  Why had I agreed to it again?

  Getting up, I staggered over to the bathroom where I pressed a cool washcloth to my face. As I let the soft droplets seep into my pores, I inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Then did it again. Teren used to get panic attacks when we were going through puberty, and that was what the school therapists had told him to do. As it turned out, it worked pretty well when my mind was spinning too. Like now.

  I was agreeing to do this because it seemed easier than fighting it. Xander struck me as the type of man who did not accept losing. And honestly, it was probably much easier than fighting over an annulment that would most likely take as long as this whole stupid plan of his anyway. If I played along, he’d give me the annulment in a few weeks and I’d save myself the headache of a daily argument. I had a business to run, a life to lead. And while pretending to be someone’s wife for Christmas was on my hell-no list, I wasn’t exactly flush with better options right now.

  Not to mention that, for a fake husband, Xander wasn’t exactly repulsive. I gave my face one last swipe as a loud sigh fell from my lips. He was hot, and he could be charming, and the way he had looked at me across the table in my little black dress had done all sorts of things to my naughty bits. But I couldn’t let that distract me. Not for one minute. I had to look at this like a business arrangement and nothing more.

  I had a job to do today, and that’s all I needed to focus on.

  As soon as I waltzed into Eighteen’s black-glass doors, I threw myself into my packed day with a vengeance. Starting from the very first 7:30 am slot, I’d booked myself three clients at once. And it was just as hard as I’d imagined when I’d grit my teeth and scheduled it in - timing things so that I could have one lady with her hair in foils, while snipping at another man’s lank curls, while the redhead was having her perm setting. But it was also necessary.

  Business was unpredictable. Some days, I could have three people like these at once, in slots back to back for several hours, other days I’d have next to no one. Rent on Clair Creek Street wasn’t cheap either, and the bills from outfitting this place (you don’t want to know how much a dryer chair costs) had piled up into a terrible monolith towering over me. In order to make it, I had to milk these busy days for all they were worth.

  And so, milking them I was.

  “C’mon now,” Tina said as I went over to check her foils. “You look as happy as if it were Christmas today. There a new gentleman in your life?”

  “Just love my job,” I told her, with a wink.

  Her dark-skinned face burst out with appreciative laughter as she waved a disbelieving hand. “C’mon now. I’m getting up there. But I’m not that up there. You’ve got rosy-red cheeks like you just met your honey. I can see it, even if you can’t.”

  “Oh Tina, it’s not what you think,” I said, retreating over to my other customer.

  Tina meant well, I knew that. She’d been my first customer, back when I was working for A Cut and A Snip, as one of their hairstylists. We went way back, and she had taken to bringing me little gifts now and then and taking me out for coffee once or twice.

  I glanced in the mirror, but it was too far away to see if my cheeks were really as ‘rosy-red’ as she’d claimed. Even if they were, it was probably just from all the running around.

  As I stole a sip from my water bottle, I eyed the filled armchairs of clients waiting and swallowed. Today was going to be a long day.

  The memory of that stack of one hundred dollar bills was like a thorn in my side. Xander’s money would’ve been enough to keep me afloat for at least several months of a more normal if unpredictable work schedule, without having to bust my ass like this. Had turning it away really been a good idea?

  Stashing the water bottle in my apron, I went back to Harry and got cutting some more.

  I already knew the answer to that question without really needing to think about it. Accepting it wouldn’t have felt right.

  Even as Harry’s limp chunks of hair refused to cooperate, my mind was back on Xander.

  After our not-terrible phone call, I was no longer so sure that he was a complete jerk. Still, that didn’t mean I wanted to go through with the whole fake marriage thing.

  He’d sounded completely miserable when he’d talked about his family and how they were trying to force his hand. I knew what it was like to be focused on my bus
iness and wanting to grow my clientele. It took a lot of work, long hours, and sacrificing personal time. I also knew what it was like to have your parents try to steer you toward someone they deemed worthy of you. It was awful.

  The more I thought about, the more I genuinely felt bad for the guy.

  After steamrolling through six more client, I took a break and got a message from Teren that set my teeth on edge.

  You coming tonight, right? The parentals invited Reginald.

  My eyes closed. Shit, shit, and shit. How could I have forgotten?

  Although ‘the parentals’ was Teren’s and my mostly affectionate nickname for our parents, there was nothing jokey or affectionate about my feelings for Reginald. He was just what you’d expect from an unmarried church-going, fanny-pack wearing man of forty-two: stuffy linen shirts, corduroys, and an oiled comb-over of the straggling hairs he still had left. Not to mention that the doleful way he blinked and the monotone way he spoke was nothing short of annoying.

  That night, when I arrived, the table was all set (the flower-crested silverware was out which mean this was a special occasion) and everyone was sitting down, about to eat.

  “We were beginning to think we’d have to start without you,” Mom said, as if this would be akin to the start of World War III.

  “Sorry,” I told her. “Work ran late.”

  I took my space between Teren and Reginald, swapping Teren’s glum smile. Here we went, the family institution that was Monday Night Dinner.

  Tonight’s fare was what looked to be honey-glazed chicken and beet juice-roasted fennel.

  I would’ve been able to enjoy it too, if it weren’t for the conversation.

  “You remember the church bazaar, don’t you Naomi?” Dad asked blithely.

  “Of course,” I said evenly. “The one with the great peanut butter brittle.”

  He nodded, this clearly segueing into what he was going to say next. “Thing is, this year Marsha and Reverend Ron have expressed concerns about the turn out. You wouldn’t mind popping over with Reginald tomorrow night, would you?”

  He popped a fennel piece in his mouth and began chewing, casual as ever, as the bomb he dropped erupted into my enraged consciousness. There it was, another undisguised attempt of my parents to set me up with Reginald.

  “I have my own table of handmade fanny packs,” Reginald was saying proudly, his smile showcasing long eye teeth, like a werewolf. “Been preparing for nearly a year for this year’s sale. Even had to scrap choir practice to finish up the last of the fanny pack batch.”

  Mom and Dad made appreciative noises, as they chewed their food. Teren looked like he might choke on his stupid chicken trying not to laugh out loud.

  I kicked him under the table. It wasn’t funny. It was tragic. My life was like one of those sitcoms you laugh at because it’s so horrible.

  “You haven’t touched your food,” Mom said.

  “Or said whether you’re in,” Dad added.

  Like pigeons landing to roost, the eyes of every single person at the table settled on me, one by one. bazaar

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have a new boyfriend,” I blurted out.

  A startled silence settled in long enough for it to dawn on me that I’d just done the most idiotic thing possible.

  “A new boyfriend.” Mom’s curious smile dug the you-idiot knife in deeper. “That’s wonderful, honey. I assume you plan to bring him around soon?”

  I stabbed my fork into a fennel and shoved it in my mouth in the hopes of having something else to concentrate on. Something other than the fact that I’d just dug myself a great big hole and jumped right on in.

  “Yeah,” I said weakly, while my mind screamed, Think of something. But I couldn’t. What excuse could I give that they wouldn’t see right through?

  “I don’t know about the bazaar though,” I said. “Xander isn’t really a big shopping guy.”

  Great, now you just told them his name.

  Dad grinned at me as if he’d been waiting for me to say that very thing. “That’s where Howie and the boys come in. They’re going to be at the table playing Christmas tunes all day. And then there’s the Christmas cookies and the little sandwiches.”

  “Ok,” I said in a voice devoid of emotion, although everyone else tactfully pretended not to notice.

  That was it then. Xander, my accidental husband, and I were going to my church bazaar.

  The rest of the meal was an autopilot blur. I couldn’t do much in the way of conversation other than responding to whatever was said to me. My mind was cycling between take it back, take it back and you screwed up big time.

  As soon as my plate was empty, I carried it over to the sink, said a quick goodbye and escaped out to my car.

  “Are you sure you won’t stay longer?” Mom was still saying as I left for the front door. “I still have some apple pie left, and you know Reginald’s always up for a game of gin, right Regi?”

  I would rather eat the concrete steps outside of my parent’s house, thank you very much, than stay another minute in the awkward atmosphere, which I had created. Although all I said to them was, “Thanks, but I really do have to go.”

  As I speed walked to my car, a voice stopped me.

  “A new boyfriend?”

  Teren had followed me, eyeing me incredulously.

  The past few days I’d been so slammed with work and the whole Xander craziness, I hadn’t had a chance to explain how the situation had unfolded yet, but now was as good a time as any.

  “I know I messed up, okay? I didn’t know what else to do. I’m tired of them trying to set me up with Reginald of all people.”

  “He actually has a fanny pack stand,” Teren said, cracking up, although his face fell soon enough. “Dad roped me into going too. And he’s expressly mentioned that Angela would be there.”

  I gave him a supportive pat. “Maybe she’ll have found someone else by now,” I said, although we both knew how unlikely that was.

  Angela was Reginald’s sister, and about as much of an undesirable as he was. She wore glasses so thick they would’ve rivaled bulletproof glass, while her tendency to blow her nose as loud as a trumpet wasn’t exactly endearing either. In any case, Teren and I were both screwed.

  “So he won’t give you the annulment?” Teren asked, after I’d explained what had happened over dinner with Xander and our phone call later.

  “No.” Feeling like some doomed heroine in some Victorian novel, I raised an entreating gaze to the moon. “What am I going to do now?”

  “Couldn’t you just invite him to the bazaar for real?” Teren said.

  “No,” I said immediately. “Of course I can’t. Then he’ll meet our parents and I’ll have to explain how and why we broke up afterward.”

  “You’re right,” Teren said with an understanding nod. “It’s not a good idea.”

  I frowned at him, although he had a point. Xander would probably be game for it, considering he owed me a big, big one for me upholding my part of this fake marriage nonsense.

  Anyway, it wasn’t like I was crazy enough to introduce him as my husband – accidental or otherwise – at the bazaar. He’d just be my boyfriend Xander, who I met on a night out and who – sadly, less than a month later I will have broken up with. What was the harm in that? It would get my parents off my case for a few months at least. Maybe even more if I could really milk the break up.

  Part of the reason why, I suspected, their attention had been growing increasingly intrusive lately was the fact that since Eric I hadn’t really dated at all. Sure, I’d accepted the odd blind date here and there, but the last time I’d gone out on an actual date date had been half a year ago.

  My phone buzzed and I dug it out of my pocket to see who was calling. I sighed. Reginald was still probably at home with Mom and Dad, so there’d be no avoiding his call.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Naomi. I just wanted to let you know, that despite … the circumstances,” he spoke in a hallow
ed voice, as if God himself was on the third line, listening to what we said. “You and your boyfriend can stop by my fanny pack table. I’ll even give him a deal. And….”

  I flickered a crabby glance at Teren, who was smiling as if he could hear what was being said.

  “Just so you know,” Reginald said, with all the gallantry of Romeo serenading Juliet. “I’ll wait for you.”

  I practically choked on the air I was inhaling.

  “Thanks,” I said weakly. “But I gotta go. Night.”

  And before I was subjected to any more mockery from the universe, I hung up.

  I glared over at Teren, whose face indicated that all although he hadn’t heard everything verbatim, he’d heard enough to get a hint.

  “Guess that’s it then,” I said. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything for a minute. When he did, his tone was much more serious than it had been.

  “Maybe Mom and Dad aren’t totally wrong, though,” he said. “The whole Xander situation is royally screwed up, but dating him…”

  “I’m not dating him,” I interrupted sharply.

  “Ok,” he said, throwing up his hand. “Spending time with him, whatever. It might not be the worst thing. I mean after Eric and all…”

  He let his words trail off, and I was grateful to him for that. No way did I want to delve into the whole Eric thing, especially not with all that had happened over the past few days. I had enough stress and anxiety already, thank you very much.

  “Anyway, good luck tomorrow,” he said, giving me a sideways hug.

  “Thanks,” I said as we parted. “I’ll need it.”

  That was for sure. Lying to my parents and a whole church full of people with a guy who acted like he ran the world. Ugh. What had I gone and done?

  But I’d made my tremulous bed, now it was my turn to lie on it. So, when I got home, I fixed myself a nice big bag of popcorn. I plopped in front of the TV and, just as I was about to power on Netflix, I called up Xander.

  “Hey,” I said when he picked up. “I need a favor for tomorrow.”