Dirty Deal

by Crystal Kaswell

  She laughs. "Do you ever see anyone in flannel?"

  "Sometimes."

  "When?"

  "I bet we'll see someone in flannel."

  "I bet it's less than one in ten." She moves towards her bedroom. "You'll feel better dressed. Trust me."

  After brunch, we go to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. The spot of the future fake wedding, though Lizzy doesn't know that.

  The cherry trees are decked with little white buds. In a few weeks, the flowers will bloom, fade to a soft shade of pink.

  Then they'll float away on the breeze.

  Lizzy takes a seat on a stone bench and folds her legs over each other. She stares at the manmade lake. "You want to tell me what's really bothering you?"

  I do. And I'm going to. Just… I need to work up to it. I'm not good at asking for help.

  She turns to me. "What's our deal?"

  "Me and you against the world."

  "Not Kat takes on the world all by herself." She adjusts her glasses. "We're partners. I want to help you. I want to be there when you need me."

  "I know. I just…"

  "I love you, Kat. Whatever it is, I'll do what I can."

  Leaves catch on the breeze. The grass rustles. The lake ripples. "I don't know where to start."

  "Anywhere." She pats the spot next to her.

  I sit. She knows enough about my arrangement with Blake that I can jump straight to Fiona's offer. No. I need to start earlier. "Blake is doing this for his mother."

  She arches a brow.

  "She's dying. And, um, he doesn't want her dying thinking she ruined his chance at love."

  "Why would she think that?"

  "His father…" I press my lips together. That isn't my secret to tell. "He was a bad guy. She feels guilty about staying with him. At least, that's how it seems."

  "That's sweet. Sort of. I mean, it's also kinda weird and controlling. But sweet too."

  "He does have good intentions."

  "But you, well—" she laughs. "Whenever you spend time with him, you either come home just-fucked and satisfied or upset."

  I laugh too. "That's probably true."

  "He already paid off the mortgage, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "We can handle the rest on our own. Really. I got in to Stanford. With a full scholarship."

  "You didn't tell me."

  "I was waiting until… I don't know. Until it felt right. Now it does."

  I hug my sister. This is good news. Even if it means she might be three thousand miles away. "Wouldn't you rather stay in the city? Go to NYU?"

  "Yes. And no. There are much better computer science programs. And there's… I might not even go to school."

  "What?" That is not a possibility.

  "I could get an internship. Start working right away."

  "Lizzy—"

  "I know you want to help, but this is my choice. I'll probably go with school. But I'm considering the other possibilities too."

  I bite my lip. She's an adult. She should be able to run her own life. But this is supposed to be for us. What's the point of all this suffering if Lizzy isn't going to take Blake's scholarship?

  If she's going to move anyway?

  "Blake's sister thinks I'm a gold digger," I say.

  "She thinks you're pretty enough to be a gold digger. It's practically a compliment," she teases.

  "Maybe. She wants me to leave him." I pull the check from my pocket and hand it to Lizzy.

  Her eyes go wide as she unfolds it. "Fuck. She really wants you to go away."

  "We're supposed to get married here in three and a half weeks."

  "Classy. Perfect for you."

  "It's go-away money. She wants me to take this and never see him again."

  She folds the check and presses it into my palm. "She must have some serious jealousy issues."

  I shake my head. That isn't it. "She thinks I'm deceiving Blake. Or deceiving myself about Blake. Maybe I am." I tuck the check into a pocket in my purse. "She… she might even be doing it for me. Because she feels bad for me."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Really. Her husband was at dinner. He's one of those rich jerks who works nonstop. She thinks Blake is the same. That I'll also end up in a loveless marriage. Or as a young divorcee."

  "You're too nice. It sounds like a controlling-bitch move to me."

  "You're too cynical."

  "Let's say that's true. What's in the middle?"

  "I'm not sure. I guess it doesn't matter. She's offering me money to go away. I can take it. Or not."

  "You get more if you marry him."

  "Yeah." But I don't need more. I just need Lizzy okay. And she is. She doesn't even want this money.

  "Do you want to marry Blake?"

  My thoughts go straight to the two of us right here. Me in some beautiful lace dress. Him in a suit. Pink petals blowing around us. It's beautiful. Romantic. Sweet.

  But it's not a lie. Not in my head.

  In my head, it's real. He really loves me and I really love him.

  That's what I want. Not yet. But one day. I want to really be his. For him to really be mine.

  But it's not an option.

  I play with the buttons on my coat. "I don't know."

  "Don't do it for me. I will be okay."

  "In California."

  "We can't be together forever." She squeezes my hand. "You know that."

  I know, but I still hate the thought of being three thousand miles from the only person who matters to me.

  "I can't believe this. All because the guy almost broke your ankle." She laughs. "I don't know if you're lucky or unlucky."

  "This is the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me."

  "Forget feelings. Forget everything except the cold, hard cash." Lizzy pulls me off the bench and trots towards a tree blooming with little white flowers. "He's offering you the rest of a million dollars. If you go through with this wedding, you're set. You can do whatever the hell you want. It's all your money. Yours, Kat."

  "Ours."

  "No," she says. "It's yours. I'm not saying you can't buy me dinner sometimes. Or pay my share of the occasional trip to the Caribbean, but it's yours."

  "Lizzy—"

  "I'm not taking his money. This is for you, Kat. If you can't handle the fake marriage, then leave. Take his sister's money. Or tell them both to go fuck themselves. You'll be okay without their money. We both will."

  Maybe. I was barely making ends meet before I met Blake, but now that the mortgage is paid, a job waiting tables is plenty.

  Or I can take Fiona's money. Use it to pay for college. To jump-start a better life.

  I have options.

  I try to imagine dumping Blake, convincing him I can't do this.

  That weight sinks into my chest. It's an awful thought.

  This means a lot to Blake. Yes, it's bullshit and he's lying to everyone who loves him, but he's doing it because he believes it's the only way.

  He doesn't love me, but he does trust me.

  Calling this off is breaking that trust.

  I… I'm not sure I can do that to him.

  Or that I want to.

  But I do know something.

  I need to talk to him. I need to look him in the eyes. I need to figure out if I can survive another six months proclaiming my love for him.

  Lizzy checks a text on her phone.

  "Can you handle dinner on your own?" I ask.

  "Go get laid," she says. "I don't judge."

  "That better not be a boy."

  "And if it is?"

  "He's meeting me before he takes you out." I pull out my phone and text Blake.

  Blake: I'm at the office. It will be cleared out by seven. Come then.

  It is the perfect place for a negotiation.

  Chapter 22

  Downtown is quiet. Still. It's funny how quickly the streets go from bustling to empty.

  The yellow fluorescent lights pop against the dark sky. The city i
s beautiful. I never tire of it.

  I never tire of tilting my head upwards, gawking at the skyscrapers like a tourist.

  They're tall. Powerful. Unmoving.

  Shit. I'm comparing buildings to my fake fiancé.

  He's taking over too many of my thoughts. Not just the ones about sex. But the ones about long walks and shared dessert and forever.

  I hug my purse to my shoulder as I step into the building.

  The security guard nods with familiarity. I'm not sure how he recognizes me—I've only been here a few times—but he does.

  I nod back. I need all the pleasantries I can get right now.

  I'm not sure what I'm going to say to Blake.

  I know what I want, but it's not on the table.

  Is it really possible to find a compromise with something this black and white?

  I don't know.

  But I'm not giving up on that possibility.

  I step into the shiny silver elevator and push the penthouse button.

  It flashes red. Damn key card. I fish it from my wallet, swipe it, and press the button again. Green.

  His office needs a key for access.

  It's so Blake.

  My reflection stares back at me. It's just like last time. She looks tired. Scared. In over her head.

  But last time worked out well. I got everything I wanted.

  Maybe I can do the same here.

  Ding. The doors slide open. I step into the lobby.

  Once again, the floor is empty. Dark. Still. The light of the city flows in through the windows. The big, grey clouds feel close. Like I could touch them if I opened the window.

  I go straight to Blake's office. Grab the handle. Try to turn.

  It's locked.

  He's here alone and the door is locked.

  A panel forms in my mind. A cartoon version of Blake pulling open his chest to show off the walls around his heart. There are a dozen different locks. Each with a different key.

  It could make for an interesting story. A girl on a quest, trying to figure out how to tear down each of those walls.

  I steel myself as I knock. I'm not sure how this is going to go. Only that it's going to be difficult.

  Blake pulls the door open. His blue eyes meet mine. They fill with a mix of concern and appreciation. He's glad I'm here. And worried it means something.

  He's not wearing a suit.

  He's in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. It's tight on his broad shoulders and chest. It hangs off him perfectly. And those jeans…

  Heat pools between my legs. I'm here to talk. Not to beg him to pin me to the couch and fuck my brains out.

  He gives me a long once-over. "Gin and tonic?"

  "You're not wearing a suit."

  He chuckles. "I changed after you texted."

  "Oh. For me?"

  "Yes."

  My heartbeat picks up. Blake is changing for me. It's not a metaphor. It's probably for comfort. But it feels like it means something.

  "Do you want a drink?"

  "Sure."

  He moves to the bar and pours carefully.

  I take a seat on the couch. Fold my legs. Smooth my jeans. Tap my heels together. These are nice boots. Expensive leather with good waterproofing. My feet are dry. Warm.

  It's heaven compared to walking around the city with soggy socks.

  It's the kind of thing that wasn't possible last month.

  But creature comforts aren't enough anymore.

  I need more.

  He moves to the couch and hands over my cocktail. His eyes fix on mine as he takes a long sip of his whiskey.

  "This is early for you." I let the alcohol warm my face and cheeks. "To stop working and have a drink."

  "I figured it's important."

  "Oh?"

  "You haven't said anything but goodnight in three days."

  "I didn't think you noticed."

  He stares back at me. "Of course."

  Of course? What the hell is that? I take another sip, but it doesn't offer any clarity. Or confidence. "I've been thinking."

  "About?"

  Wanting you to love me. Wanting this to be real. My inability to separate fact and fiction. "Everything."

  He slides his fingertips over my neck. "What's one thing?"

  I take a greedy sip, but it does nothing to refresh me. My eyes go to the shiny hardwood floor. It's perfect, spotless, pristine like everything in Blake's office. Like everything in his life. "Do you trust me?"

  He answers immediately. "Yes." His voice is certain. Sure.

  I force myself to stare back into his eyes. They're sincere. They're worried even.

  I mean something to him.

  I just don't know how much.

  I fish the check from my purse. "Your sister thinks… well, I'm not sure what she thinks. But she wants me to go away." I unfold the check.

  He reads it. "You want more?"

  "No, I…"

  "We have a deal, Kat. If it's not enough anymore—"

  "This isn't about money." I squeeze the check with my thumb and forefinger. "I'll tear it in half right now if I have to."

  His lip corners turn down. "You're showing off a check for a hundred grand. What else could it be about?"

  Love. "Don't you care that your sister wants me to go away?"

  "She's trying to protect me. In her way." His gaze shifts to the window. "She's not taking the divorce well. You don't need to like her, but don't take it personally."

  "Don't take go-away money personally?"

  "It's more than she can afford. She must think you're valuable to me."

  "Is everything a number to you?"

  He arches a brow.

  "Would I be less valuable if she'd offered me fifty grand?"

  "That isn't what I mean."

  "No? It sounds like it."

  "If you want more money—"

  "I don't."

  "Then why tell me?"

  "I trust you." My toes tap together. "You've been honest with me. But…"

  "But?"

  "Stop offering me more money. I don't want any more of your money."

  "Fine." His voice is short. Frustrated.

  "I want to talk about this. Like adults." I go to tear the check in half but my fingers won't cooperate. "You can't buy me. Your sister can't buy me. I'm not for sale."

  I do it again.

  This time, I manage a tiny rip.

  I don't want Fiona's money.

  I don't want anyone buying my allegiance.

  Deep breath. I tear the check in half.

  The paper flutters to the ground.

  Fuck. There go my options.

  "There's no shame in needing money." Blake finishes his whiskey and sets his glass on a wide table. "You can admit it."

  I dig my heels into the hardwood. "Fine, I need the money. I'm not a billionaire. I don't have a tech company. In fact, I don't have a fucking penny to my name. It's just my sister and me. No one else will help. Is that what you want to hear?"

  "If it's the truth."

  "I need your fucking money. I hate that I need your money, but I do."

  His stare cuts through me.

  I turn away. Fuck this. Blake can't intimidate me.

  I go to push myself up but he grabs my wrist.

  "Don't," he says.

  "Why? This is a business arrangement. Our terms are the same. There's nothing to talk about." There's no way to get what I want. Not like this.

  His grip tightens around my wrist.

  "We're not friends."

  "Aren't we?" He pulls my body into his. "I care about you."

  "You don't care how I feel."

  "Yes, I do." His breath warms my ear. "I know this is hard for you. And I hate that. But there isn't another way."

  "But you…" I don't know what to say. His voice is sincere. He does care about me. "How much?"

  "How much?"

  "Do you care about me? Am I a colleague? A friend? A lover?"

  "I'
m not going to fall in love with you." The words are easy. Like he's talking about the time.

  My stomach sinks. "I don't know if I can do this without falling in love with you."

  "Kat…"

  "I know. You'll never love me. I understand." Sort of. He thinks he'll never love me. But he does care about me. And that's how it starts.

  Blake looks me over. His gaze is softer. There's affection in it.

  He picks the pieces of the check off the floor and sets them on the side table.

  "You can still take Fiona's money."

  "I don't want it."

  "Good. Pretend like this never happened."

  "She doesn't believe we're in love."

  "She does. That's why she offered you this much. It's a test."

  "That's fucked up."

  "That's the Sterling family." He slides his palm around the back of my neck. Stares into my eyes. "I meant what I said. There's no shame in needing money. Most people wouldn't do as well as you have."

  "Maybe."

  Blake runs his fingertips over my cheek. "It must have been hard, holding everything together after your parents died."

  I nod. It's still hard. It's still pent up inside me.

  There's affection in his eyes.

  Maybe we are friends.

  Maybe that's enough. I don't need him being in love with me if he really does love me.

  "How did it happen?" he asks.

  "They were in a car accident."

  "And that was it?"

  "Yeah." I let my eyelids flutter together. "I was at a cross-country event when I got the news. I was thinking about the guy who asked me to Winter Formal. About my dress. About things that didn't matter at all."

  Blake runs his fingers through my hair. I lean into his touch. I soak up every bit of it.

  "You'd have liked the dress. It was black. Low-cut. It's still in my closet somewhere. I don't think I've ever worn it."

  He pulls me closer. Until I can feel his heartbeat. It's steady. His breath is too.

  I sink into his arms. It feels good. Safe. Reassuring. I haven't had any reassurance. For three years, I've been the one telling everyone else it's going to be okay.

  And now he's doing it.

  I want that.

  I want to collapse in Blake's arms.

  I want him taking care of me.

  "My coach came over." I swallow hard. "It was right before I was set to race. I was all high and mighty, wondering what could be so important. But there was this look on her face. Something was wrong.