All For Show: A Fake Boyfriend Gay Romance

by Rachel Kane

  “Oh no.”

  “He’s desolate. I’ve never heard him like this before. I need to go see him.”

  I pictured my day--my special, kitchen-reveal day--spent all alone, wandering around lonely. “Uh...”

  “You could come with? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  “You’re positive about that?”

  He unmuted the phone. “I’m with Nat. Yes, that Nat. Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now. We’ll be there soon, okay?” He looked at me apologetically. “I am so sorry.”

  “I’m going to try to be a grown-up about it, but it’s hard. I selfishly wanted to spend the day writhing around with you.”

  “I know! I was getting all excited about it. But this shouldn’t take long. Harris is a big boy. He’s not going to sit there weeping into a tub of ice cream or anything.”

  Naturally, Harris had one of those houses out on The Row, this line of incredibly expensive places with cliffside views just south of town. The places were enormous, usually gated, with lush tropical trees; driving by you could catch a glimpse of shining pools and terracotta roofs and alien-looking sports cars.

  Harris’ place was white, angular and modern, jutting out past the cliff, with broad windows and high ceilings and a sense that you ought not to touch anything without washing your hands first.

  He grabbed Owen into a hug, while I stood by, and then he turned to me and gave me a brief handshake. His hands were soft with oddly long fingers. “I’m sorry to call you over here like this,” he said. “I’m just a mess.”

  “It’s fine,” said Owen, as Harris led us to pristine white couches. “I’m just in shock. You two were so perfect together.”

  I looked around. The sculptures must have been Sergio’s. They were tall, lithe things, abstract yet somehow sensuous; I had the sense of staring through a zoetrope, looking at them. Motion divided into ribbons. Looking at one of them, I saw that from one angle, it appeared to be a dancer, standing on one toe, reaching up toward heaven; but from another angle, you saw a sorrowful figure with its head down. I wondered how he had done that, wondered if there were more ways to look at it. It was intriguing, especially compared to the paintings on the walls; I couldn’t say what they might have been pictures of, but the bold colors seemed challenging in such a white room. Nearer the window sat a grand piano. Everything was sparkling and clean.

  Harris slipped down into a nearby chair. “I can’t say I understand what happened, really. But there was always this difference between us. I was always more of a scientist--I use my mind, I use rationality--while Sergio had that wild artistic spirit. We were always at odds, deep down.”

  “But what happened?” asked Owen.

  “A fight. A random, out-of-nowhere fight.”

  “First thing in the morning?”

  “Oh, it started last night. He was being distant and strange to me, then I thought we could go to Cassandra’s and relax, maybe with a nice heavy meal and some wine in us, we could talk things over later. But he wanted to have a fight, to start a scene, and you know me.”

  “You hate scenes, I remember.”

  “So after speaking to the two of you, I simply walked out. Well, he didn’t like that one bit. I didn’t think I was ever going to hear the end of it. In the end, it was obvious what had to happen. He packed a bag and left.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Owen.

  I was silently studying Harris. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him--I’m sure he did have a fight with Sergio, and I’m sure Sergio was upset when Harris walked out of the restaurant--but there were things here that triggered a protective instinct in me. I suddenly wanted to put my arm around Owen and keep him away.

  I don’t claim to have any special instincts about people. In fact, just the opposite. I’m usually the last person to know what’s going on, ever. Too busy worrying what people might think of me, to realize the world is falling apart around me. But I felt like I could see right through Harris. The way he had moved his chair to get closer to Owen. The way he seemed to take this break-up in stride. Owen had said he sounded desolate, but I wasn’t hearing that in Harris’ voice. It was too rational, too controlled a tone.

  “You seem to be holding up well,” I blurted. Owen shot me a look, and Harris gazed at me with no expression on his face.

  “Thank you...?” Harris said.

  “I just mean, when I break up with someone, I go straight into the ugly-cry. Surround myself with sad movies and doughnuts. Lots of languishing. You’re so...mature and well-put-together.”

  The look Owen was giving me was poisonous. What the hell do you think you’re doing? he seemed to be saying.

  “I suppose we all grieve in our different ways,” said Harris. “If I were to relinquish my self-control, who knows where I would be.”

  The way he said self-control seemed to imply that I clearly didn’t have any, and I could feel my cheeks blushing. See, this was why I was a wallflower, why I tried not to get into conversations. I always said the wrong thing.

  Who am I kidding? I’d said the right thing. I didn’t think he was grieving at all. But I felt so much shame about having spoken up, that I went silent.

  “I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” he said to Owen. “I was surprised. I thought you would be at work when I first called.”

  “We’re taking the day off. It’s like a holiday in Nat’s world.”

  “Is that wise? I know this is the busy season at the paper.”

  Owen shrugged. “My boss was okay.”

  “Still, you ought to be careful. The economy isn’t what it was. You don’t want to find yourself without a job. Don’t make Nat support you!” He said it like a joke, and both he and Owen laughed, but Harris’ laughter was strange and hollow, and he looked straight at me while he laughed.

  Oh, I didn’t like this man, not one bit.

  “So how is your show going?” Harris asked me.

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Owen.

  “No, no, it’d be nice to have something to think about other than my loss,” he said.

  “It’s going great,” I said. “Today’s the big day. We’re going back to the condo tonight for the big reveal.”

  I saw him glance over to his kitchen, which was off to the side of this huge open floor-plan. I followed his gaze. Perfection. Beautiful whiteness, untouched, pristine. Then he looked back at me. You’ll never have anything like this, he seemed to say with his look.

  “Is it difficult?” he said. “Being in the fake relationship? I imagine it must take some getting used to. Some strong boundary-setting.”

  Owen laughed, which caused Harris to narrow his eyes.

  “Did I say something funny?” Harris asked.

  “I mean--” Owen looked over at me. “The fake thing. It’s...well, things are a little complicated.”

  It wasn’t quite as good as him announcing I was his boyfriend, but complicated was nice. It had a freight of implications, didn’t it?

  Harris looked from him to me. “Complicated? How so?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “Things are fine.” I suddenly didn’t want to talk about it in front of him. There were big red flashing danger signals in my mind.

  “They’re more than fine,” said Owen, moving closer to me on the couch. I wished he hadn’t done that. This wasn’t like last night. This wasn’t me getting my feelings hurt that he called me fake. It was different today, because of Harris.

  “Oh, I see,” said the surgeon. “You two are--”

  “Together,” said Owen. It should have been wonderful. My heart should have leaped with joy. But I knew what was coming next. I knew it, and the fact that Owen didn’t see it made me so sad for him, so afraid for him.

  “Is that wise?” asked Harris.

  Owen blinked. “Is what wise?”

  “I assume that by together you mean you’re in a relationship.”

  “That’s what it typically means, yes.”

  “Don’t you f
eel that’s a bit premature? You’ve only known each other a couple of days. Love at first sight is a dangerous myth, you know.”

  “Come on, Harris, you’re just being weird because you broke up with Sergio. Nat and I are fine, don’t worry about us.”

  “I don’t know Nat, so I am not worried about him. It’s you I worry about, Owen. Rushing into relationships? With the issues that you are so well aware of?”

  I couldn’t believe Harris was actually going to do this in front of me. He was shameless in his manipulation.

  “Maybe we ought to go,” I said to Owen.

  “I’m not rushing,” Owen said to Harris. “I’m just going by how I feel.”

  “I’m not cold-hearted,” said Harris. “I understand the importance you put on your feelings, and I would never tell you to deny them. However, there’s a history here, isn’t there? You find yourself falling for someone very quickly, without fully understanding the implications of it, and then, because you haven’t put the proper work and thought into it, the connection is thinner than you expected. You begin to feel inadequate. You begin to compensate for that inadequacy by trying harder, but it doesn’t resolve the underlying problem. That’s when the distance begins. You try to maintain the closeness, but it begins to feel artificial, forced. Soon you are faced with a stark choice: Live a lie, feeling that distance ever-growing but denying it, or breaking up. It’s a cycle you have followed again and again.”

  “I really, honestly think we ought to go,” I said. I grabbed Owen’s hand. He looked so crestfallen and confused.

  There are all these things you can’t say in life. Confrontations that you know you ought to have, words you know you ought to say, because they’re true, and they would bring justice. But you find yourself close-lipped when the time comes, unable to say the words you need to say. I couldn’t tell Owen right now that Harris was a lying snake, a venomous, manipulative man who was lashing out because Owen was trying to find a happiness that had just been denied to Harris. I couldn’t say that. All I could do was hold his hand and encourage him to leave, so we could sort this out somewhere else, not under the controlling gaze of his ex.

  “I think you’re just saying all this because you’re sad about Sergio,” said Owen finally. “And that’s why I’m going to let it all go. But there’s nothing artificial about what I feel for Nat.”

  Harris shook his head, and leaned back into his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “Oh, you’re probably right. I’m just suffering, and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry. I just feel so much loss right now.”

  “You’re really bad at emotions,” said Owen. “You have to stop trying to keep a lid on them. Stop controlling them. Just let yourself be sad, or angry, or whatever.”

  “I’m feeling so lightheaded,” he said. “I skipped out on dinner, and I haven’t had anything today. I’m sure that makes it worse.”

  “You can’t do that to yourself!” said Owen. “Your blood sugar is probably all over the place. No wonder you’re acting so weird. I’ll make you some soup. Everything in the kitchen in the same place it used to be?”

  “Thank you,” said Harris. “Yes, it’s all there.”

  I realized that we weren’t leaving anytime soon. Harris didn’t look at me with an expression of victory. He didn’t have to. We both knew what had just happened, and that I had lost some kind of battle for Owen’s attention.

  But I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to cause a scene and didn’t want to stress out Owen, who honestly was concerned about his ex and wanted to be a good friend, and it was that goodness I was finding so heartbreaking.

  “Why don’t I take Mr. Thurgood out while you do that?” I said.

  “Oh, good thinking,” said Owen.

  “Rhody, I’m in so much trouble,” I said into my phone.

  “Are you in jail again?”

  “Would you stop? I’m serious.” Mr. Thurgood was sniffing in the bushes.

  “Let me guess. Something went wrong on your big date with Owen. Now you are bereft.”

  “Um...no, just the opposite. That’s the trouble.”

  “Wait, something went right? Did you sleep with him?”

  “That’s not the--”

  “Nat! You slept with him! You naughty bastard! I’m so happy for you! We ought to throw you a party. How long has it been? We’ll invite all your friends, and make a big cake in the shape of a--”

  “Agh, will you just listen? The sleeping with him isn’t the problem!”

  “I’ll say. It’s the solution.”

  “Things are so weird right now.”

  “Because you slept together? I mean, a little awkwardness is natural. Do what I do, kick his ass out of bed and don’t answer his texts for a couple of days. It stokes the flames.”

  “So much weirder than that, even.” I gave a quick run-down, the meeting at Cassandra’s, the call this morning, the fact that we were at his ex’s house right now.

  There was silence on the line for a minute, broken only by Mr. Thurgood snuffling at a butterfly.

  “You’ve got to get Owen out of there,” Rhody said finally.

  “I know.”

  “Harris has some kind of psychological, gravitational pull over Owen, from what you’re saying. It sounds totally unhealthy. I don’t want to throw the term abusive around, but...”

  “It’s like that, yeah. Owen is literally making soup for him right now.”

  “He doesn’t need anyone to make him food. He’s a millionaire. He can buy some damn soup. He just wants to keep Owen there. Like a toy, like a cozy blanket.”

  Having Rhody validate my fears was good on the one hand; I didn’t feel so crazy now, like I was just making up weird plots against me. On the other hand, I felt panicked because my social skills weren’t really up to this challenge. “I don’t know what to do,” I told her.

  “Make up something. An emergency of your own. I broke my leg at the shop. Your condo is on fire. Something, anything to get him out of Harris’ grip.”

  “Suggest something that isn’t a lie and won’t make me feel like an awkward fool.”

  “If it were me, I’d just rush in there and tell Harris off, and drag Owen out kicking and screaming.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “I know. But you have to do something. Harris is hurt, he’s vulnerable in his own way, and if he’s as much of a manipulator as you’re saying, what he really wants right now is to control something. If Owen’s the easiest thing to control, then that’s what he’s going to hold on to.”

  “Oh god, it’s so ugly,” I said.

  “Do you think you caused this?”

  “What? Me?”

  “I mean, from being together with Owen. What if he saw you two together, and that made him jealous, so he broke up with Sergio to get Owen back?”

  “That’s going a bit far,” I said.

  “I’m just speculating.”

  “Don’t speculate crazy stuff like that, you’ll give me a panic attack.” As it was, I felt my hand shaking as I held the phone to my ear.

  “Fine, it’s probably not that crazy. But for your own sanity, you should cut the visit short. Otherwise, Harris is going to make Owen miserable, and it’s going to ruin the day you two could have together, and...and I just don’t like the idea of him getting his tentacles on Owen, not this soon after you and Owen have gotten together. Which, by the way, I’m very proud of you for. I can’t believe you actually did it!”

  “Yeah, but you see what happens when I follow your advice. Nothing but disaster.”

  Harris was eating his soup at the long table near one of the windows. He looked so elegant with his silverware and nice bowl and napkin and everything. He made me sick. I walked into the kitchen.

  “Can we go now?” I whispered to Owen.

  “I hate to do this to you,” he said to me, “but I really think Harris needs a friend today.”

  “A friend? After the way he was talking to you?”

 
He brushed aside the question. “He’s like that. You don’t know him like I know him. He’s got some weird boundary things, but his heart is in the right place.”

  I looked Owen in the eye. “I’m not sure about that. I think there’s something strange about this situation, and I don’t want us to be caught in the middle of it.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” said Owen.

  Harris was close enough to us that I didn’t feel like I could give all the various reasons we had to get out of here.

  “Maybe we could talk outside,” I suggested.

  “Nat, you’re being kind of weird. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, I am hinting very strongly at you that something is wrong. Could we talk outside?”

  So we wound up on the terrace. The ocean below us was breaking over the rocks. “What’s going on? You look kind of frantic,” he said.

  “I think it’s unhealthy for you to be here with Harris right now. He’s trying to manipulate you.”

  “What? He just broke up with Sergio, he’s acting all weird, it’s not a problem.”

  “It is a problem. I don’t think you can see it because you’re different with him, he has this effect on you--”

  A wry smile crossed his face. “I know what this is, you’re jealous!”

  “No, actually I’m not!”

  “You are! Oh, Nat, that’s so adorable. But look, I promise you, there’s no reason for you to be jealous. Harris is a nut-case right now, but he’s so strait-laced that it comes out in weird ways.”

  “He literally just told you that we rushed into a relationship too soon. We haven’t even had a chance to talk about what’s going on between us, and he’s trying to pull you out of it.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about it,” he said. “He just needs some company, some looking-after. Hell, for all we know, Sergio could come rushing back in for a big reconciliation at any minute.”

  “You don’t think it’s weird that he broke up right after he saw us together? You don’t think it’s weird that the first person he goes to after he breaks up, is his prior ex?”

  “The only thing I think is weird right now is the way you’re acting about this,” said Owen.