Raise Your Game

by Cassia Leo

  I dig through the trash in the waste bin to retrieve the card key. I highly doubt it’s a valid key, but I can’t rule out the possibility. I’m about to set off to the neighboring resort, when I see Kitty watching me from just outside the doors leading to the Hilton elevator lobby.

  Double-fuck.

  Now, she probably thinks I dug the card key out of the trash because I’m having second thoughts about cheating on Sophie. I would leave the ring and go upstairs if I hadn’t decided to use my mother and father’s old wedding rings.

  It’s not as if they’re using them anymore. And I knew, since I have my father’s hands, that his old wedding band would fit me. I wasn’t sure if my mother’s rings would fit Sophie, but that worked out better than expected.

  I glance at Kitty then back toward the neighboring resort then back to Kitty.

  Chapter 6

  SOPHIE

  I’m startled awake at the sound of a soft click. My body floods with panic as I realize someone is trying to break into my house. My eyelids snap open, and I’m reminded that I’m not actually in New York. I’m in a hotel room in Honolulu, and Logan Pierce is sleeping soundly on the sofa. I get a twinge of guilt when I see one leg draped over the arm and the other dangling over the edge with his foot resting on the floor.

  But my guilt over his seemingly uncomfortable sleeping arrangement is quickly replaced by panic at the sound of a soft hiss, which is followed by the sound of our hotel room door swinging open. I can’t see the door from my vantage point, but the hiss of the pneumatic door closer is unmistakable.

  “Who’s there?” I shout, pulling the sheet up to cover my bare legs.

  Logan groans. “What? Where?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” says the same cleaning lady who walked out of our bathroom when we arrived at the room yesterday. And despite being apologetic — again — she continues further into the room and fixes her eyes on Logan, who’s still splayed across the sofa. “I’m sorry, Miss. There’s no do-not-disturb sign. Would you like me to put for you on the door?”

  Logan turns around to face the housekeeper. “I thought I put the do-not-disturb sign on the door when I came in last night.”

  “It’s a simple mistake, honey,” I reply, trying to sound like the trusting wife I’m supposed to be. “Yes, please put the sign on the door. We won’t be needing any housekeeping service for the rest of the week.”

  I don’t want to worry about hotel staff walking in on anything that could blow our cover.

  “So sorry, but if no sign on door, policy is we have to clean,” she replies, a faint smile forming on her round face. “If you want no housekeeping, you call front desk. Okay?”

  I nod impatiently. “Yes, yes, I understand. Can we be left alone now?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I go now,” she says, spinning around and swiftly exiting the room.

  I leap out of bed and roll my eyes when I see the do-not-disturb sign is still hanging on the inside of the door. I quickly crack the door open a few inches and slide the hanger over the lever, then I lean back against the cool mahogany slab to shut the door.

  “Do you think she’s going to gossip to the other maids about us not sleeping together?” I ask, as Logan rises from the sofa.

  His dark hair is messy, but in a way that actually makes me question whether he got up and styled his hair then went back to bed. He’s only wearing a pair of gray boxer briefs, and the man has the body of a Roman god: the god of bed hair and pectoral muscles.

  This is going to be a long week.

  He smiles as he passes me on his way to the bathroom. “Are you afraid they’ll find out we don’t sleep together and take away your Wedded Warrior amulet?”

  My eyes widen as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. “Do you think they’d do that? I mean, if we didn’t sleep together, we probably didn’t utilize the dildo and the brochure with the tantric sex poses. They might think we’re not making an effort.”

  The toilet flushes and water runs for a couple minutes before Logan emerges smelling like hand soap and toothpaste. “I’d be happy to help you earn your title of Wedded Warrior,” he says with a seductive smile.

  I push him out of the way so I can get into the bathroom. “You came in smelling like a brewery last night,” I remark before closing the door.

  I don’t want to question where he went or with whom he drank. It’s none of my business, except it kind of is my business. We both have a lot riding on this fake marriage being as believable as possible. If we’re outed, my chances of getting Kitty to confide in me are pretty much zilch.

  “I’m going to need some coffee before I account for my whereabouts last night,” Logan says, reaching for the room service menu as I exit the bathroom.

  I shrug as I head straight toward my suitcase to dig out my travel bag with all my makeup and toiletries. “No need. I’m not trying to pin you down. I just want us to be smart about this. We can’t blow our cover.”

  I try to sound as casual as possible despite the fact that inside I’m screaming at myself for feeling jealous of whoever he had drinks with last night. It’s totally idiotic. He asked me to go down and have a drink with him. And I’m pretty sure he only left because he was starting to feel some uncontrollable urges. I saw the hungry look in his eyes after I changed into my Yankees T-shirt.

  Still, trying to stop myself from feeling something more than friendship for Logan is clearly not working. Somehow, I have to try to convince myself he’s off-limits, or I have a feeling I’m going to leave this resort with a broken heart and no byline.

  “Are you jealous, honey?” Logan teases me as he hands over the room service menu.

  I laugh, perhaps a bit too loudly. “Pfft! I don’t get jealous. Besides, what do I have to be jealous about? We’re not really together.”

  The smile on his face subsides as he seems to come to a realization he’s not sharing with me. “Well, you don’t have to worry, pumpkin pie. I may only be your fake husband, but I vow not to fake-cheat on you. Does that make you feel better?”

  “Pumpkin pie?” I reply, rolling my eyes as I open the menu and pretend to peruse the breakfast options. “Just do us both a favor and keep your Magnum in your pants, and we’ll be fine.”

  His usual confident smile is still missing in action, and it’s starting to make me nervous. “Yes, dear,” he replies, reaching for the phone to call in the room service order. “So, what do you want for breakfast?”

  I could do with a big slice of Logan pie, but I’ll settle for what’s on the menu. “Fruit plate and yogurt parfait, please. And lots of coffee.”

  He stares at me for a moment, but I think he’s lost in thought. I have a distinct feeling he’s hiding something from me, but I can’t let myself get sidetracked by my distrust of Logan Pierce. I need to stay focused on priming Kitty and/or Jason to spew their deepest secrets. Logan is just a tool to help me get a raise. Nothing more.

  Logan finishes placing our order, and suddenly that signature cocky grin returns to his gorgeous face. “We can discuss our fake marital problems over breakfast. We need to get our stories straight before we head down for our therapy session with Dr. Mahoe.”

  I smile as I reach into the top drawer of the nightstand and pull out my leather Moleskine notebook. “I’ve already written it all down,” I say, tapping the leather cover. “I also have the notes in my phone. I’ll email them to you, so we can go over them while we eat.”

  He looks confused as he takes a seat on the edge of the arm of the sofa, so we’re facing each other. “Why write it down on paper if you have it on your phone?”

  “Because phones can be lost or stolen or damaged. I always copy my notes from my phone to my notebook, so I don’t have to worry about losing either one. My phone and my notebook are always kept separate, so I’ll always have at least one copy of my notes.”

  He squints at me as if he’s trying to figure something out. “How is it you’re still an editorial assistant when you’ve been working at Close-
Up for six years and clearly you’re their most valuable asset?”

  I try not to blush at his compliment. “I think that’s pretty obvious, because of what happened with my boss and the loan.”

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What happened with your boss? Were you two in love, or something? Why did he do all that stuff for you? I mean, a promotion and a loan? Sounds like there’s more to that story.”

  I shake my head. “Is it really that foreign to you that someone could do something nice for someone else without the promise of sex or resorting to blackmail?”

  He closes his eyes for a moment looking somewhat embarrassed. “Wow. I didn’t realize how rude my questions were until now.” He opens his eyes and looks at me straight on. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not used to true altruism. I’ve been conditioned from a very young age to be skeptical of everyone’s motives.”

  I wave off his apology. “No need to apologize. I’m fully aware we come from two different worlds, and yours is a lot more cutthroat than mine.”

  His expression softens as he looks me over again, but not with the same hunger I’ve gotten used to seeing. I could be reading too much into it, but I feel like I see a note of pity in his eyes.

  “Hey, don’t go feeling sorry for me,” I insist. “I know I didn’t ask for my parents to get sick and die within a decade of each other, but—” I clap my hand over my mouth as I realize I’ve broken my own rule number four and spilled the beans about my parents. Now, he’s really going to start pitying me. “Anyway, what happened with my parents doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m on the verge of being homeless. If I lose this job, I have friends who’ll help me out.”

  Shit!

  He doesn’t seem convinced by my assurance that I’ll be fine whether or not this week goes according to plan. But the next words out of his mouth actually ease my mind and make me think maybe, just maybe, I will be okay.

  “I won’t let that happen,” he begins, his resolute tone turning my insides to mush. Then, he holds out his fist to me. “We’re a team now. We’re in this together. Team Ka’pipi forever, baby.”

  I can’t keep myself from breaking into a smile as I bump my fist against his. “Team Ka’pipi forever.”

  When we arrive at Dr. Mahoe’s penthouse apartment in the Hilton hotel, I’m surprised to find that she’s sectioned off the penthouse into two separate wings. After entering through the mahogany double doors, we’re deposited into a foyer with another door ahead of us and one more on our right. The one on the right has a brass plaque etched with Mahoe’s name and title.

  Entering through the door on the right, we find ourselves in a waiting room. Kitty and Jason are already here, waiting to be called for their ten-minute intake assessment, which happens to be right before ours. A jolt of surprise, and a bit of panic, hits me square in the chest when I see Kitty offer Logan a seething glare, a look so packed with shade I fear Logan may be sucked into her black hole of contempt. Turning to Logan, I’m confused by the way he obviously seems to be avoiding her gaze as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa from Kitty and Jason.

  I sit between Logan and Kitty and flash her a smile. “Feels a little like waiting to be called into the principal’s office.”

  Kitty’s snarl relaxes. “Yeah, this whole experience is kind of surreal.”

  Jason seems to tighten his grip on Kitty’s hand. If I’m not mistaken, Kitty appears to ever so slightly reject this subtle display of solidarity, stretching her hand a bit to loosen her husband’s grip. This is a woman who has been hurt, a woman who is struggling to maintain a sense of self while also attempting to salvage the most important relationship in her life. And despite all the pain and turmoil in her own life, she still makes an effort to heave massive scorn in Logan’s direction.

  This is not a good sign.

  Did she Google Logan? It’s not as if she could find out his last name from Dr. Mahoe, because that would be a gross invasion of privacy. While Logan may have a reputation as a massive womanizer in Manhattan society, I don’t know if he’s dated enough celebrities to be well known outside of New York. Kitty and Jason live in Los Angeles.

  Hypothetically, if Kitty did become aware of Logan’s reputation, one Google search could show her he’s an insufferable man-whore with a penchant for blonde supermodels. Jason is rumored to have cheated on Kitty with a model, though the identity of said model is yet to be leaked, which is why we’re here. The difficulty setting on this operation just got turned all the way up.

  Logan leans in and whispers in my ear, “You should turn on the voice recorder app on your phone and slip it into Kitty's beach bag, so it will record their session.”

  I turn to him with mouth agape. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I mouth.

  My heart sinks as I consider that Logan’s promise not to let me down this week was just part of the role he’s playing. I sigh as I realize the lines between fiction and reality are becoming dangerously blurred. I can’t start questioning Logan’s intentions while trying to pull this off, or I’ll never close the deal with Kitty.

  I need to keep my head in the game. I can’t allow myself to get lulled into complacency by Logan’s promises. And I really, really can’t let myself get distracted by these confusing feelings I’m having for him.

  I have to operate as if I’m all alone on Team Ka’pipi.

  When Kitty and Jason are called into Dr. Mahoe’s private office, I turn to Logan and fix him with a hard glare. “I’m going to do this the right way. I’m not going to invade her privacy by eavesdropping on her therapy session,” I whisper.

  “What about his privacy?” Logan replies, and the question catches me off guard.

  I shake my head to clear the jumbled mess his inquiry has created. “You know what I mean.”

  He smiles. “You think he cheated on her despite the fact that we have no proof?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but I stop myself. “I don’t want to argue about whether or not Jason is actually guilty of cheating.”

  “Why not? It’s a valid question that you obviously never asked yourself when considering whether or not to come here.”

  I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, giving myself a moment to rethink the words I’m dying to say right now. But it’s no use. I have to say it.

  “Where were you last night?”

  His smile withers. “I told you. I went to the beach bar at the hotel next door.” He watches me for a long moment in total silence, both of us obviously contemplating our next move. “We need to talk about this with Dr. Mahoe.”

  I chuckle at this suggestion. “We need to stick to the list of fake marital problems we went over this morning over breakfast. Stick to the script.”

  He rolls his steel-gray eyes as he leans back on the sofa. “Kitty saw me at the bar,” he mutters, staring straight ahead, probably so he doesn’t have to look me in the eye.

  “What did she see?” I ask, keeping my tone casual, though my heart is pounding so hard my chest hurts.

  “There was an old geezer there with a couple of girls in bikinis. One of the girls may have tried to come onto me, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

  My stomach tightens into a ball. “Did you do anything else with her? You know, not that I care or anything like that. I just want to know what Kitty may have seen.”

  He turns his head to face me again. “Look at me, Sophie.”

  Pressing my lips together, I attempt to steel myself for whatever words may come out of his mouth as I turn my body until I’m facing him. “Just answer the question.”

  His eyes are locked on mine. “I know you see me as some kind of man-slut, but you should know better than anyone you can’t believe everything you read in gossip magazines. And to answer your question, no, I did not do anything with anyone last night. But Kitty could easily have assumed what she saw last night is the reason we’re here. And I know you have no reason to believe me, so I’ll have to wait for my innocence to be proven. B
ut I don’t mind waiting.”

  I stare off into the distance as a new idea forms in my mind. “This is perfect.”

  He looks confused. “What’s perfect?”

  “If Kitty thinks you cheated on me, I can use that as a way to get her to open up.”

  An enormous grin spreads across his face. “Brilliant, as always.”

  Hot blood pools in my cheeks. I’m about to thank him for the compliment, when I hear movement coming from inside the office. They must be coming out soon.

  “Okay, we have to pretend to be angry with each other,” I whisper as the handle on the door begins to turn. “Don’t touch me!” I say tersely as I rise from the sofa.

  “And you wonder how we got in this mess,” Logan replies as he stands up.

  I gasp audibly. “You’re blaming me for your inability to keep your Magnum in your pants? That’s rich!”

  Jason and Kitty exit the office and, to my delight, Kitty looks utterly appalled by our fake argument.

  Logan addresses Jason. “She calls my wallet Magnum. I’m a shopaholic.”

  Kitty shakes her head in disgust as she marches toward the door.

  Jason raises his eyebrows. “Good luck in there, man,” he says, trailing after his wife.

  Once we’re seated on the sofa across from Dr. Mahoe, I let out a sigh of relief.

  Mahoe smiles as she crosses her legs. “You’re positively glowing, Sophie. Is that a flush of anger in your cheeks or did you two have a breakthrough while you were in the waiting room?”

  “That’s just her natural beauty shining through,” Logan replies for me.

  I roll my eyes. “He’s just trying to earn some points because he’s a big, fat, lying cheater.”

  Mahoe’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing beneath her corkscrew curls. “Sophie, I understand your frustration. You mentioned on the intake survey you completed in your online registration that your number one concern is reestablishing trust in your marriage, which you reiterated yesterday at the welcoming ceremony when you demonstrated your amazing axe-throwing skills.”