Playing the Game

by JL Paul

  Finally, when it grew close to two in the morning, he released me. He eased me gently off his lap and walked me to my car.

  “Drive safe, Aubrey Rose.” He kissed me again before opening my door. “I’ll give you a call after the show tomorrow night.”

  “Okay,” I muttered. I stood on my toes to press a kiss on his mouth. “Have a good road trip.”

  ***

  Someone, my father more than likely, had left the porch light and the living room lamp on for me. I crept to my room and fell thankfully in my bed. Shutting off my light, I closed my eyes, wondering what Jess’s thoughts could have been on earlier, finally giving up as sleep caught me.

  I woke late the next morning to a barrage of questions from my mother.

  “Where were you for so late last night?” she demanded.

  “With friends,” I muttered, trying to chase a stray piece of cereal around my bowl.

  “What friends?”

  “A few from the show,” I lied, not looking up. I finally caught the last piece and lifted the box to pour more. I wasn’t hungry but I was doing what I could to avoid looking into her face.

  “Hmm,” she said, thoughtfully. “At least you’re making friends.”

  “Sure,” I said. I forced as much cereal as I could down my throat and dumped the rest down the garbage disposal. After a lingering shower, I called Gwen. She was still distracted but agreed that I should come over Friday night for a chat. Excited at the prospect of getting out of the house this weekend, I went downstairs and listened to my mother’s ideas for the remainder of the season.

  That evening at the studio, I dressed in the outfit my mother had sewn herself. She’d concocted a slim navy skirt that stopped just beyond my knees and actually hugged my figure in a loose embrace. The skirt was topped with a pale pink, short-sleeved button up blouse in which I wore a dark pink camisole beneath. It fit the sweetheart image but was hardly what I would choose to wear if I were performing on stage in front of thousands of my fans. I wore it without complaint since I hadn’t had the nerve to veto it when my mother first presented it to me.

  Still, I was far more comfortable in my mother’s outfit than what I imagined I’d be if I wore what Samantha chose to wear. Her tight leather skirt and equally tight tank top did fit the rock image a little better but was far more revealing than I would ever dare to be. So much for Samantha striving to knock me off the sweetheart pedestal.

  And her music was on the edge, too. Richard and Marissa had a hay-day with her, throwing disparaging remarks at her left and right. She took it in stride, smirking in an irritating know-it-all way.

  She was worse in the dressing room, often flaunting her personal style and her over-confidence in my face. She didn’t worry me, though. I hadn’t exactly won over Marissa and Richard, yet, but I had a better chance than she.

  We took to the stage Thursday night, standing before the judges, to await our fate. Unfortunately, I was stuck next to Samantha and our appearances were a stark contrast of each other. She was dressed in another tight skirt and me in another of my mother’s sweetheart ensembles. Even our hair was a striking difference: My dark locks pulled back off my face in soft curls while her blonde tresses fell wildly to her shoulders.

  She stepped forward, ready to face her critics. As each judge commented on her performance, my heart soared. Even though I hadn’t had my turn in front of the firing squad, I knew they’d never berate me that way. They loved me.

  But Richard surprised me once again.

  “Samantha, I have to say you throw me for a loop each week. I never know what to expect from you but you manage to impress me. Your personality shines through and you always look like you’re having the time of your life. I have no choice but to pass you to the next round.”

  Marissa’s words were nearly the same. I wondered vaguely if Marissa was sleeping with Richard.

  Samantha took a step back beside me, smugness radiating from every pore. Ignoring her, I smiled sweetly when Stephen Casmain called my name. He sang my praises again, as did Chelsea and Big D. But Richard’s frown and creased forehead prevented my jubilant celebration.

  “I was pleased with your choice of music, as I said, but I was not pleased with your performance. True, you did nail the notes, you sounded good, and you looked adorable, but I still don’t see the real you. I hate the American Sweetheart moniker you’ve earned probably as much as you. I think you should take a page from Samantha’s book and develop your own style. I’ll see you next week.”

  I kept the smile plastered on my face as I nodded even though I was thoroughly horrified. I faced Marissa with a wild heart.

  “I want to see you, Aubrey, not a Barbie Doll. That’s the only reason why I’ll pass you.”

  When we were finally dismissed so those who had to fight to make it next week could perform, Samantha cornered me in the dressing room.

  “Seems the sweetheart can’t impress the toughest judges, huh?” Her smirk hadn’t budged since we'd left the stage. Well, it might have grown a tad more irritating.

  “Whatever,” I mumbled as I sat before my locker. I wasn’t in the mood for her as I tried to figure out what I needed to do to get Richard and Marissa off my case.

  “Aw, come on, Aubrey,” she said with a false smile. She sat next to me, dropping her voice. “You and I are the best two on the show. We might as well be friends.”

  Desperate to get her away from me so I could be alone with my thoughts, I agreed. She beamed happily.

  “I’m having a party Friday night. You should come,” she said. Her sparkling eyes held no malice so once again I agreed. She wrote out her address and phone number and handed it to me, ecstatic that I said yes.

  I rode home with my mother, ignoring her babbling and suggestions, and escaped to my room as soon as we got home. I changed into pajamas and shut off my light, welcoming the dark that settled around me. I held my phone in my hand, knowing Jess would be calling soon. I’d nearly drifted off when my phone finally rang. I prepared for his wrath.

  “Hey, Jess,” I said.

  “I don’t like that Richard a bit,” he said, in an unusually calm tone. “But he’s got a point. Especially about that Samantha chick.”

  “What?” I gasped. “You think I should be more like her?”

  “She’s going to beat you, Aubrey,” he continued. “She has an I-don’t-care attitude and she’s hot.”

  My heart sank while my veins burned anger. How could he call her hot when he was talking to me? My eyes seared as they turned from brown to green in jealousy. Wasn’t he supposed to root for me?

  “I’ll beat her,” I whispered, suddenly not so sure.

  “Yeah, if you do like that Dick guy says and be yourself. Stop being your mother’s paper doll. Sure, you look cute but I know you’re more passionate than you’ve been.”

  Maybe he made sense but it still hurt. I wanted him to adopt my mother’s confident tone and tell me how unfair it was that someone like Samantha could possibly be in the same category as me. I wanted him to rant angrily that Marissa and Richard weren’t falling at my feet like the other three judges. I longed for him to threaten to beat up Richard for his hurtful words.

  But this was Jess and he never did anything I wanted.

  “You still there?” he demanded.

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t pout, Aubrey. You know I’m right.” Smugness radiated through the phone lines and I was beginning to wonder if he didn’t belong with Samantha. The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes and my anger increased. How one person could cause so many tears, I’d never understand.

  “I’m not pouting. I’ll work on it,” I promised, wiping the warm tears off my cheeks.

  He sighed heavily - a sound I recognized. I’d frustrated him again. “What are you doing this weekend?”

  “Going to Gwen’s tomorrow.”

  “Good, maybe she’ll put a spark in you. Tell her hi for me.” I heard him yawn and my heart fell. He was going to han
g up soon. “Watch the game Saturday. I’m pitching.”

  “I know,” I said before I could stop the words. I closed my eyes to stifle my groan.

  “Keeping track, huh?”

  My fingers itched to smack him. “Just do something good, huh?”

  He laughed. “Sure. A no-hitter.” The laughter in his voice softened my heart and sent a shudder up my spine. “I need to go. I have a meeting with the pitching coach tomorrow.”

  “Good luck, Jess,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’ll watch.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll call you this weekend.” He hung up before I could respond.

  Plugging my phone into the charger, I wrestled with the conflicting emotions raging inside my head. My feelings were hurt – that was an understatement. I couldn’t believe all the things he said about Samantha. I mean, wasn’t I his…well, whatever?

  I shot straight up in my bed. What if he was using me to meet Samantha? My heart fell, my lungs tightening. I forced the images of Samantha in Jess’s arms out of my head. No, Jess didn’t use people for anything. If he wanted something, he’d go out and get it. He wasn’t much for playing games.

  But if that was true, what was he doing with me?

  Chapter Seven

  I sat on a stool in the dusty antiques shop, watching as Gwen assisted a customer inquiring about some old lamp. I couldn’t understand the attraction but then, I wasn’t really into the antiques trade.

  She rang her customer up with a charming smile and sent the woman on her way. Turning her attention back to me, she leaned against the counter. I noticed the light circles under her eyes and scrunched up my nose.

  “Are you sleeping okay?” I asked.

  Shrugging, she began straightening a stack of flyers on the counter. “I’ve been busy, that’s all. So tell me what Jess is up to now.”

  I watched her for a few more minutes before launching into my tale. She nodded and commented where appropriate but I had a feeling her heart wasn’t in it. Sighing, she wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “You need to relax, Aubrey. Don’t get so worked up over him. It’s obvious he likes you. Maybe he’s trying to work out his feelings.”

  Again I was disappointed. I wanted her to rail against Jess and take my side. I knew I was being childish but my heart was nothing but a sopping mess and I had no clue what to do about it. Gwen wouldn’t give me answers and all Jess did is throw more questions my way like I was in the batter’s box.

  “I’m just confused. I’ll get over it,” I dismissed angrily. Gwen’s attention was distracted again. In fact, she was looking a little green. “Are you okay?”

  She waved my concerns away. “I’m wearing myself out is all. Things have picked up around here and I’ve been running around auctions looking for new things. Dane keeps telling me to take a few days off. That’s not possible with only two assistants.”

  “I’ll help if you need it,” I offered, not liking how flushed my sister looked. “And I’m free.”

  She laughed hollowly but a little color returned to her face. She patted my shoulder and kissed my cheek. “I might take you up on that if Dane persists. But right now, you need to concentrate on the show. I liked your music but you’re still not totally into it.”

  I groaned, tired of the same argument. I heard enough of it on the show and from my mother. And from Jess. I didn’t want Gwen to jump on the bandwagon. “I’ll practice this weekend.”

  “How are the other contestants treating you?” she asked, scrutinizing my face.

  The party! I’d forgotten about Samantha’s party. I hadn’t really intended to go but if Gwen was as tired as she looked, I didn’t want to hang out at her house and make her feel as though she had to entertain me. If only I had more friends.

  “They’re warming up to me. One of them is having a party tonight and I think I’ll go.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she said slowly. “But be careful.”

  I rolled my eyes, an irritating habit I’d picked up from Jess. “I will.”

  ***

  My mother practically threw me out of the house when I told her of Samantha’s party. She was thrilled I’d made the ‘right’ kind of friends and planned on doing something with them this weekend. And I planned to let my hair down a little and just relax. I wouldn’t worry about Jess or Gwen or my mother tonight.

  “Mom,” I said, biting my lip nervously. “I probably won’t be home tonight so don’t worry.”

  Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. She knew I wasn’t much of a drinker and I could see the cogs spinning horror stories in her head. “Where will you be?”

  I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Probably just crash at Samantha’s house. She said I could,” I lied. I felt like a teenager, looking for my mother’s permission to stay out all night. “I am an adult, Mother. I’m trying to think responsibly. If I happen to have a few drinks, I’d rather not drive home. I'm letting you know so that you don't worry if I don't come home tonight.”

  “Okay, dear,” she said, her brow creased in worry. “I think you’re right though I’d rather you stay away from alcohol.”

  “I’m twenty-one, not twelve. I can go to the bar and get drunk or I can spend the evening with some friends and not worry about strange men trying to pick me up. Which do you prefer?”

  That did it. Her horrified face answered my question and I grinned internally at another hollow victory. Kissing her cheek, I dashed up the stairs to pack a bag. I had no intention of spending the night with Samantha but I couldn’t stand to spend the night here. I had no clue where I’d go or what I’d do but the freedom surrounding me was exhilarating. I wondered vaguely if this was how Gwen had felt when she moved in that first, tiny apartment with Dane.

  ***

  Samantha’s house was already hopping by the time I got there. She was renting a small house in a rowdy part of town where the neighbors never complained about the noise. That’s what she told me, anyway, when she dragged me through the door. Two girls from the show who were sharing the house greeted me pleasantly enough and I should have been a little wary. But my hurting heart was desperate for a friend and I eagerly accepted their drinks, wanting to just be a part of the crowd.

  When my head started spinning early, I asked Samantha for a soda. She frowned but dashed off to the kitchen to retrieve one. Gary Lester, another contestant, and his friend who was known simply as Moe, kept me company. They sat on either side of me on the sagging sofa, bombarding me with question after question. I answered as politely as I could, but the room was stifling and I longed to sit outside on the steps to clear my head. I tried to stand but they each grabbed an arm and yanked me back to my seat. I smiled, a little queasy.

  “I just need some air,” I explained.

  “Wait until Sam brings your drink and then I’ll take you out back,” Gary offered.

  I nodded, setting my head off again. My stomach rolled and I hoped I wouldn’t throw up and embarrass myself.

  “Here you go, Aubrey,” Samantha smiled. She handed me a huge tumbler full of ice and Coke in which I gratefully accepted. I swallowed a large amount and grimaced at the taste. She frowned in concern.

  “Is it flat? I’m not sure how long I’ve had that stuff.”

  I shook my head, not really caring if it was or not, although I was pretty certain the nasty taste had nothing to do with how old the soda was. I wasn’t an experienced drinker by any means but I was fairly sure Samantha had added some kind of liquor. I looked to Gary, hoping he would remember his promise to take me outside. With a wink, he took my hand.

  “I’m taking Aubrey outside for some air,” he explained, tugging me to my feet. I followed, a little unsteady, and kept a firm hold on my cup.

  Samantha and her group of girls joined us. One of them had a video recorder and pointed it at anyone engaging in ridiculous behavior. I laughed as a small group of girls plugged in a CD player and began dancing suggestively to the music. The whistling guys encouraged them, draining their beer gla
sses as quickly as they filled them. My body relaxed even though my stomach was still queasy and I was grateful for Gary’s presence. He settled me on a wooden bench in the backyard and kept a hand on me, warding off potential suitors.

  “You feeling okay, Aubrey?” he asked for the hundredth time.

  Smiling a goofy grin, I fell into his chest.

  “Wonderful,” I slurred. I couldn’t muster enough strength to sit my body upright. He laughed as he helped me.

  Without warning, he gripped my chin, pressing his lips to my mouth. My eyes bolted open as my heart pumped wildly in my chest. I froze but that didn’t deter him in the least. His lips continued to massage mine as his tongue wormed its way into my mouth. A wail of catcalls and cheers assaulted my ears as my eyes watered. I managed to push him away but his hands grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin through my thin blouse. I cried out as he exerted more pressure and his eyes grew dangerously dark.

  “Don’t be such a prude, Aubrey. Maybe if you thaw out a little bit the judges will get off your ass,” he muttered. He leaned in to kiss me again but I twisted violently out of his hold. Jumping to my wobbly feet, I dumped my Coke on his head. Samantha laughed wildly from somewhere over my shoulder but Gary wasn’t amused.

  As he got up, he snatched my arm. “You frigid bitch,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Let go of me,” I demanded, wrenching free again. I brushed past him and headed to the house, Samantha hot on my heels.

  “Don’t leave yet, Aubrey,” she called in a singsong voice. “The fun’s just starting!”

  I ignored her as I reached the front door. Stumbling through it, I wobbled across the yard until I found my car. My head was whirling frantically as I fired up the engine and put it in gear. The road blurred and I had a hard time keeping my car on the proper side of the street. I pulled over once I thought I was a safe distance from the house and whipped out my phone. My instincts warned me against calling Gwen, though I knew she’d come for me in a heartbeat. Her tired, drawn out face flashed in my mind. No, I wouldn’t call her. I flipped through the numbers on my phone as I contemplated calling a cab to take me to a hotel. Before I could open up a browser on my phone, I stopped on a number. I mused for five seconds then hit send.