Always Been You

by Beverley Kendall

  “Easy as pie,” Liv assures me. “It’ll be easy as pie.”

  “Says the girl who can’t keep her hands off her boyfriend,” I say wryly.

  “And why on earth should I? Have you taken a good look at him?”

  “Oh I’ve looked plenty of times,” I tease. We laugh at that, both, I’m sure, remembering when I first laid eyes on Zach in our freshman French class. Let’s just say all the girls in the class had been more than looking at him.

  “Oooh, I can’t wait to tell Rebecca,” Liv practically squeals. “And Zach. He owes me fifty bucks.”

  My spine goes straight. She did not just say what I thought she did. “Fifty bucks for what?”

  Her expression goes from gleeful to guilty. “Weeeellll…” She drags out the word, taking it from one syllable to three.

  My gaze narrows in warning. “You guys had a bet going on this?” The pitch of my voice rises into the faux, highly insulted territory.

  “Oh c’mon, April, what’s a bet between friends.” She’s all smiles and guilelessness and attempts to hug me again.

  I’m trying hard not to laugh as I shrug her off. “No wonder you were always pushing us together. You wanted to collect on your bet.”

  “Hey, I was on your side. Both your sides. Zach is the one who bet against you. Doesn’t that make me the good guy here?” Liv will use convoluted logic when it suits her. And it works.

  Sidetracked by her argument, I ask, “Why didn’t Zach think we’d ever get together?”

  She snorts softly. “Because he thinks Troy is too busy burying his head in the sand to see the obvious.”

  Zach’s reasoning certainly has a lot of merit. Troy had been acting like the proverbial ostrich. “So he did think Troy had a thing for me?” I don’t know why I want the assurance, but I do.

  Liv’s emphatic nod accompanies her, “Oh yeah. Big time. He thought it from day one.”

  “Good to know it was obvious to everyone but us,” I say dryly.

  “It’s usually easier to see when you’re on the outside looking in. You guys were too close to the situation to see it.”

  Well that does make sense.

  Silence. I take note of the fact that the shower’s no longer running, which makes it possible to hear the buzz of a cell phone ringing.

  “That’s not mine,” Liv states, her head turning in the direction of the noise.

  I immediately jump up and snatch mine off the kitchen counter. I manage to answer it before the call is sent to voicemail.

  It’s my agent—who doesn’t usually call me during the weekends unless I’m on a job.

  “Hey, Catherine, what’s up?”

  “Thank God, you picked up. I’ve got some exciting news.” She singsongs the last little bit. Again, Catherine doesn’t sound like her normal self. Her voice is too animated, like it was the last time she called.

  My heart begins to race right along with my soaring hopes and rising expectations.

  “What?” I demand, unable to take a breath until I hear what she has to say.

  “Playboy called. They want you to be Miss December.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “What?” This time it’s me who turns a one-syllable word into three.

  On the other end of the phone, I hear my agent make a noise that sounds like an honest to god cackle; it’s giddy, wicked and loud. She doesn’t do that either. But then the news she just delivered is bordering on the insane.

  “Yes you. Miss December.” If I thought I hadn’t heard her correctly, she’s assuring my auditory senses are all systems go. No hearing aids needed in my near future.

  I turn a disbelieving stare at Liv, who is looking at me expectantly. As well she should with the look I’m giving her. My eyes must be bulging out of their sockets and my jaw feels as if it’s somewhere near the floor.

  “Oh my god. Oh. My. God. Holy shit,” are the only words I manage to get out.

  Liv springs to her feet and strides quickly toward me. “What? What happened?”

  “They’re offering one hundred thousand. I think I can get them up to two fifty since Carter is still in the news.”

  That’s when it hits me that she’s talking Playboy. As in centerfold Playboy. Naked Playboy. All my girlie bits showing Playboy. Or maybe not.

  “Are we talking no clothes?” My question is tentatively hopeful and I feel more gauche and naive than when I started modeling over a decade ago.

  Liv furrows her brow, clearly perplexed. I can tell she’s dying for me to get off the phone.

  Catherine let’s out a disbelieving laugh. “No, I mean the Playboy where they shoot their centerfolds in cloth sacks.”

  Crap. I thought so.

  Sensing—by my silence—my ambivalence, Catherine gentles her voice. “Listen¸ I know this isn’t a makeup campaign or Victoria’s Secret or Sports Illustrated but the money is good and Playboy is a reputable company.”

  These are things she doesn’t need to tell me. I know.

  I hear the tread of Troy’s bare feet coming down the hall and turn to watch as he approaches, hair damp, jaw shaved, wearing a worn pair of jeans and a red t-shirt.

  Seeing me with my phone pressed to my ear—and Liv hovering over me—his expression goes from perfectly at ease to questioning.

  “I know. I know. Look, let me think it over and I’ll call you…say tomorrow? And we’ll talk about it. Is that okay?” I can’t imagine they’ll expect an answer before, at the earliest, the beginning of next week.

  “Yes, honey, that’s fine. But if you have any questions, or you have any concerns about what this is going to do to your career, give me a call regardless of time. I’ll pick up.”

  By the time I slide my phone back onto the counter, Troy and Liv are staring at me hard.

  “Who was that?” Troy asks. His expression isn’t quite as avid as Liv’s. She was privy to the no-clothes question.

  “My agent,” I reply in an overly cautious tone, expressing enough apprehension to cause my boyfriend (wow, boyfriend) and best friend to exchange concerned looks. Addressing Liv, I ask, “Can I call you later?”

  For a second she appears surprised, then like a soldier called to attention, she straightens and fixes a tight smile on her face. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. I’ll let you guys talk. Or what have you.” Coffee in hand, she hooks her purse over her shoulder and exits the apartment.

  Troy pays scant attention to her hasty departure, continuing to regard me, a crease now settled above his eyebrows. “What was that? Did I interrupt something?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “Okay, so what did your agent want?” I can tell by the way he’s angled his head, he’s caught on that my current unease has something to do with her call.

  “She called about an offer from Playboy. They’re offering a hundred grand but she’s pretty sure she can get me more.” It all comes out in a rush. A combination of nerves, dread and a desperate need to just get it out while I still possess the courage to do so.

  Stunned, Troy’s head snaps back. “Playboy?”

  I give a nervous laugh. “I know. Crazy, right?”

  “Yeah, I’d say so.” He shakes his head as if trying to wrap his brain around it. “Playboy wants you to pose for them?”

  I nod. “It’s all that stuff with Keets.”

  As if he doesn’t already know that. Of course he does. But I have to say something. Offer up some sort of explanation.

  He nods repeatedly while murmuring, “Right. Right. Right.”

  “Can you imagine me as Miss December?” I joke, hoping to coax a real smile from him. He still looks a bit dazed.

  After a pause, he chuckles and grasps my t-shirt near the waist, tugging me into his arms. “I don’t have to, I already have the real thing,” he says and buries his face in my neck. I inhale the crisp scent of his aftershave cologne.

  “I told Catherine I’d have to think about it.”

  The nibbling of my neck and underside of my chin ceases abruptly. Troy go
es so deathly still, I’m pretty sure he stopped breathing.

  Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t expect him to jump for joy at my offer. This is Troy and he’s not a sharing type of guy. And do you remember me saying he’s possessive? Yeah, well that probably includes not having millions of people seeing his girlfriend naked—if I had to guess.

  Not like it’s something I want to do. The money is fantastic but I’d have to pose naked. As in no clothes. Skimpy bikinis are no problem, but naked is just…well naked. Not sure I want to go there.

  Not sure I can go there.

  But one hundred grand is a lot of squirrel-away money. That’s not having to worry about my finances for a long time. That’s being able to help my brother buy a car when he goes away for college in September and not having Vic cover the brunt of it. She’s saving for retirement, which in modeling years is probably less than ten years away. Most models aren’t employable beyond their mid-thirties. Can you imagine that? After modeling, Vic plans to open a bakery with her two best friends. After everything she’s done for our family, she more than deserves to live out her dream.

  This kind of money could do a lot of good. But the cost…is pretty steep. As far as I’m concerned, naked is naked, no matter how tasteful.

  “You said you’d think about it?” he repeats as if he can’t believe what I just said.

  “I told her I’d talk to her about it on Monday.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” The tone of his voice is all jagged edges, kind of like the way he’s watching me.

  I take it he doesn’t mean it’s a given that I should accept.

  His mouth compresses into a straight line.

  Clearly not.

  “What?” My question is just as sharp as his tone but with a whole lot of defensiveness and petulance thrown in.

  “Don't tell me you're actually considering accepting it?”

  Faced with an expression that’s a combination of stark horror and disbelief, I feel a fluttering sense of alarm for the first time. His tone could not be more condemning, teeth gritted and jaw clenched so tight, I'm surprised he managed to get the question past his lips.

  “I-I don't know,” I reply in an uncustomary stutter. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t be crazy about the idea, but I didn’t expect the fury that has his body coiled and rigid.

  His icy gray gaze rakes slowly down my body before tracking up to my heated face. “If you take it…” His voice fades, the steel in it as inexorable as ever.

  It’s the ominous warning in his tone that snaps my spine straight and has me narrowing my eyes. “If I take it you’ll what? Dump me? Or will we go back to just being friends?” I’m all dripping sarcasm and challenge.

  If possible his jaw clenches tighter and some indiscernible emotion flashes in his eyes.

  In the lengthening silence, we stare at each other, his face becoming a shuttered mask I can’t see beneath.

  The standoff ends when he turns and begins walking down the hall toward the door and the only thing I’m staring at is his retreating back. A gunshot in a still and quiet night could not have had more impact. The suddenness of it keeps me rooted in place.

  I’m still trying to process what’s happening when I hear the resounding slam of the apartment door, signaling his departure. And exactly where we stand.

  Playboy?

  Playboy!

  No fuckin’ way.

  Naked, April is a vision. She’s truly a dream come true.

  April posing naked for millions of horny men is nothing short of a nightmare. My nightmare. And now that she’s put that image in my head, I can’t get rid of it. And this isn’t me being a chauvinist. Not wanting other men to see my girlfriend the way only I should is not being a chauvinist. It’s me being a normal red-blooded man.

  “Damn, that’s seriously fucked up.” Scott is looking at me with the same shock I was feeling an hour ago. Rubbing his hand along his jaw, he gives me the I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now look from across his dining room table. He’s right. I don’t want to be in my shoes.

  I’d needed someone to talk to—a guy who’d understand. And with Zach gone for I don’t know how long, I’d naturally picked Scott to unload on.

  Right now Rebecca is out on the balcony on her phone, her expression rapt as she paces the small space. And by the frequent glances she’s sending my way through the closed glass door, I’m positive she’s talking to April.

  I focus my attention back on my friend. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? No, what would you do if you were me?” I ask, revising the question.

  “What would I do?”

  “Yeah. Say this was Becca and she told you she was thinking of posing nude for some magazine. Would you be a candy ass and support her?” Okay, my bias is showing. But right now I don’t care. Fuck being politically correct or acting like a twenty-first century man if that means other guys are going to see my girlfriend without her damn clothes on.

  Shooting his girlfriend a quick look, Scott lets out a choked laugh. “I-I-I—” He continues laughing, shaking his head as if he finds the idea ludicrous. Which is my point. The whole thing is nuts. “That’s hard because it falls outside of the realm of possibility.”

  “Why?” My question is a sharp demand. “She’s a great-looking girl.” And she has the body for it.

  “She’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” is Scott’s emphatic retort. “I’m just being realistic. No one’s going to make her an offer to pose for Playboy.”

  “Jesus H. Christ, Carver, it’s a fuckin’ hypothetical,” I snap.

  He shakes his head. “Becca wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Are you saying April would?”

  “No that’s not what I’m saying. I actually can’t see April doing it either. I’m surprised she’s considering it.”

  Yeah, me too. “Why?”

  Scott shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s too assertive. Too put together. And she seems too private to do something like that.”

  Exactly.

  I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. “And here’s the thing. She doesn’t even like modeling. She’s only doing it for the money.”

  “How much are they paying?”

  When I tell him how much, he whistles low and long under his breath. “Shit, no wonder she’s thinking about it. That’s a nice payday.”

  I can feel a scowl taking over my face. “Yeah but money isn’t everything.”

  At the sound of the sliding glass door to the balcony opening, I angle my head to the left to see Rebecca step into the living room. She must have heard the tail end of my statement, because she pipes in dryly, “Rich coming from someone who grew up with hoards of it.”

  My face warms in guilt and embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She waves off my apology while treating me to a sympathetic smile. Obviously April told her what happened. And if she has any qualms about intruding on our private conversation, she doesn’t show it, walking over and slipping easily into the chrome chair beside her boyfriend.

  “I know you didn’t. But I think when you’ve always had it you don’t realize how much it does matter.” She turns to Scott. “Babe, does your mother go a week without someone trying to buy her vote on some bill or other?”

  “I doubt it,” Scott replies ruefully.

  His mother is the Democrat Senator from California and the head of the Finance Committee. Needless to say, the woman has plenty of sway.

  “But it’s not like she needs it,” I argue. “Damn, I’d give her every penny I have if this is all about a fat payday.”

  “She wants to earn her own money, not have it given to her,” Rebecca says in April’s defense.

  “By posing naked?” I shoot back, smacking the glass top of the table.

  Compassion softens her expression as she gazes at me. “I know it must be hard, but Troy, you can’t just tell her she can’t do it. You have to support her in whatever she eventually decides to do.”

&
nbsp; What else is Rebecca going to say? She’s her friend. She’s a female. And women don’t have to deal with this kind of shit. It’d be a cold day in hell before any guy I know receives an offer to drop his drawers for a magazine or what have you. April certainly won’t have to deal with this when it comes to me.

  “Even if I’m totally against it?”

  Rebecca sighs and runs her fingers through her long, chestnut-brown hair. “She didn’t say she was going to do it for sure. You at least have to talk about it like two adults.”

  My gaze snaps to Scott. “Do you think I’m being unreasonable? In front of your girlfriend, tell me you wouldn’t have a problem with her posing nude for Playboy.”

  Rebecca turns her more-than-curious stare at her boyfriend. “Would you?” she asks, one eyebrow arched high.

  Scott coughs and sputters around a bit, his eyes bouncing between Becca and me. “I told you, our situation is different,” he finally utters. “Bec doesn’t model.”

  Rebecca laughs. “He’d absolutely have a problem with it, and I would completely understand why.”

  Scott looks relieved to be out of the hot chair.

  She continues in a sage voice, “I think you have to ask yourself one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Would you split up with her over this?”

  I don’t even have to think twice about that. “No.”

  She gives me a beaming smile. “Then, that’s your answer. Go talk to her.”

  I exhale a long breath. I haven’t flipped through an issue of Playboy in a long time. Maybe their centerfolds are only going topless these days.

  ***

  April is outside on the balcony when I get back to the apartment. In keeping with the hot weather, she’s wearing an off-the-shoulder blouse, and snug blue shorts that show off her mile-long legs.

  I know she heard me come in but she doesn’t turn to acknowledge me. Not even when I slide open the glass door to join her on the balcony. She’s pissed. And probably a lot hurt.