Game On

by Rene Folsom

  “Well, we went and visited her grandmother earlier—that seemed to calm her a bit,” Sam said as she took a seat on the outskirts of the set just out of frame.

  “Ahh, how is she doing?” Fie asked, not knowing much about my grams other than she was in a nursing home. The last time I was down in the dumps was when Jim forced her to move into the assisted living facility, claiming I wasn’t a fit caregiver. All my girls, Sam, Sky, and Fie included, took me out for drinks, figuring I needed to get shitfaced. We actually needed to repeat that sometime soon… 'cause God knew I needed another night like that.

  “She’s fine. She seems to like it there for the most part. I think the transition of me not being around all the time was hard on her at first, but she’s gotten over it.” I spoke carefully as Fie sat me down and began doing my makeup, starting with a smoky-eye effect.

  “That’s good. She’s sure lucky to have you,” she said, obviously trying to keep me talking as she did her best to hide the hideous blotches on my face.

  “Dudes, can we go out tonight?” I blurted out. “I can call Sky and tell her to get her pixie ass over here. We can just let go like we did last time. It’s been way too long.”

  “Ahh, Sky and I were actually planning on grabbing a drink and going back to my place tonight,” Fie explained, waving her hand like she was nervous about messing with her arrangements. Her and Sky were best friends… it was how I met Sofie a while back. “We figured we could just stay home and drink, but I’m sure she’d be up for going out. I’d just need a bit of time to touch these photos up and send them to your publisher.”

  “I don’t think I can afford to get plastered tonight, Maci,” Sam said from her perch across the room. “I have a shit ton of editing to do tomorrow. I’ve already taken so much time off today.”

  My pout must’ve been comical, because both girls just busted out laughing. Thankfully, Fie came to my rescue. “No need to get plowed, Sam, we’ll just hang at my house and relax. I know it’s not as fancy as the Taj Mahal that Maci lives in, but it’s cozy. Plus, I have plenty of couch space for those who choose to get sloshed.”

  “I don’t live in a Taj Mahal,” I defended, irritated these chicks only saw me as some prissy chick who had the world handed to her.

  “Okay, then, Miss Defensive. So, you game?”

  “Yeah, I’m all for it, especially if we can game. Sam?” I asked, hoping she’d accept.

  “Sure, but I’m not getting drunk, and I’m definitely not playing video games.”

  “Party pooper,” I said, feeling a bit more at ease knowing my friends were going to be a fun distraction just when I needed it.

  Minutes before we started shooting, Sam excused herself, stepping outside to take a phone call, setting my phone down on the table like she was thumbing through it for a number. What the hell? I couldn’t tell what was being said, but whoever she was talking to was being a dick, I could tell by how forceful and animated she was. My best-friend gene kicked in, and I suddenly wanted to go and defend her. But just as soon as that thought crossed my mind, the conversation was over.

  Before I knew it, Sofie was snapping shots of me, forcing me to smile even though that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “‘Kay, Maci, I need you to pretend you’re happy—smile for me. We’ll take several without as well, I just need you to stop looking like someone kicked your puppy,” Sofie instructed, the initial flashes blinding me and making me blink the orbs of light from my vision.

  My stomach twisted in knots, the look on Sam’s face tortured for some reason as she watched in silence. Something was up, yet I didn’t know what, but I could tell my friend was up to no good.

  It didn’t take long for me to figure out what she’d done… and I wasn’t happy with her conniving ways.

  The door opened, Sofie’s boss stepping aside to usher someone in. It wasn’t until I saw who that I knew my friend hated me.

  My stomach dropped at the slight of Liam’s face standing in my territory, the look of fury still plain as day in his eyes.

  “What the—?”

  “Wait,” he said, holding his hand out to shut me up. “Just listen to me before you say one more word.” With careful consideration, he looked to Fie, silently questioning whether he could approach me. She nodded, and I was confident that both my friends hated me.

  “Now,” he whispered, pushing a lock of my hair out of my face, his eyes darting back and forth between mine in wary examination. “I have it on good authority that I’ve ruined your pictures today. I didn’t come here to say I forgive you, nor did I come here to beg for you back, but I do need you to do one thing…”

  I huffed, my hackles getting up at just the audacity of his words. My fault or not, I didn’t need him toying with me like this.

  “Just try to smile, pretend everything is perfect,” he said, his voice hushed as he grazed his fingers along my jawline, his thumb tracing delicious circles on both my cheeks. “Pretend we’re eating lunch with your grams. I know for a fact she’d love to see nothing but smiles on your beautiful face.”

  Standing before me while I sat on a rather uncomfortable stool was a man so pissed at me, yet also wanting to help me in some way.

  “Aren’t you still mad at me?” I asked, looking up into his deep, blue eyes and wishing we didn’t have an audience right now.

  “Very. That won’t go away easily. But our personal lives shouldn’t interfere with business, and right now, you have a job to do. Put that gorgeous smile on your face and dazzle your readers, Miss Thomas,” he said, grabbing one of my hands and bringing it to his heart while his other tilted my face up to meet his.

  My stomach tied in knots at his words and his actions, both warring with my better judgment. After the way I treated him, after how badly I screwed up, there was no reason he should’ve felt obligated to stand here and pacify me.

  His lips brushing against mine, my hand lying heavily on his frantically beating heart, all were indications I actually had a chance to earn his forgiveness. If it weren’t for the sound of Fie’s shutter and the whine of the flashbulbs, I would’ve easily forgotten there were others in the room.

  His kiss was tender, brief, just a lingering peck against my quivering mouth. I wanted more of him, wanted to taste him, feel his heaviness holding my body hostage.

  I lethargically opened my eyes, watching him as he pulled away, his face still inches from mine while Sofie continued to snap photos. There was no way she could use these, but at this point, I was just happy he was standing here, not yelling at me… for now anyway. So, I didn’t care what damn pictures she took as long as it meant I could hold onto him for a few moments more.

  Looking toward Fie, I let Liam hold me, my cheek not quite hitting his chest, but coming close, so close I could feel the warmth from his body on my face. With my hand still lingering over his heart, I felt content to just sit here, a small, pacifying smile on my face as Fie snapped a few more shots.

  “Okay, Mr. Allen, if you could step from the shot for a minute, that’d be great,” Fie instructed. I felt all the air go with him as he stepped back, my eyes unable to look at anything else but him at that moment. “Come stand behind me if you would.”

  He did just what she asked, slowly walking across the small backdrop to stand behind her so I’d actually look in the right direction. I was puzzled as to why he’d care, why he’d concern himself with my pictures. Then it dawned on me… regardless of how he felt about me personally, he was still an M.L. Thomas fan. Liam was nothing if not a good businessman, and he knew just what these photos would mean for my career.

  The selfish part of me knew that if Liam could accept that M.L. Thomas wasn’t a male, then most of my readers would accept it too. The thought made me smile, Sofie loving the reaction as I stared into Liam’s face.

  Just before we had to wrap things up, Sofie, Sam, and one of the photographer’s assistants gathered around me to make a few minor changes to my pose. When they dispersed and began to snap mo
re photos, I looked around and noticed he was gone.

  Just. Gone.

  I guess he fulfilled his purpose, realizing they probably got the shot they wanted, and left.

  I glared at Sam, knowing she was the one who pulled that stunt.

  “Don’t get all pissy with me over this. Him being here just saved your ass,” she said, relentlessly pushing my buttons with her actions.

  “She’s right, Maci,” Fie said from her computer at the far wall. “Come take a look.”

  Hesitantly, I walked over and sat next to Fie in front of her massive iMac. With quick work, she flipped through the photos in order, showing the ones where I looked completely devastated, almost zombie like with a forced smile on my face.

  Then, there were several shots with Liam, each one breaking my heart all over again at the sight of us together. Lastly, there was the set of shots of just me, a peaceful, serene smile on my face as I looked beyond the camera to something in the distance. No, not something. Someone.

  They were right—he made the shot. Yet I was still devastated beyond rational comprehension.

  “I’m glad y’all got the money maker. Can I go now?” I said, my will to be nice losing out over anger and defeat.

  “Yeah, but we’re still on for tonight,” Fie said, never taking her eyes off the screen. “You can be mad at us all you want, but we’re still kicking back.”

  I was suddenly pissed I let Sam drive me here, because that meant I was stuck with her all the way back to my place.

  “Six!” Fie shouted just before the door shut behind us.

  “I can’t believe you did that to me,” I whispered as soon as we ducked into her car. “Now he knows just how damn needy I am, just how fucking miserable I am because of him.”

  “I’m sorry, I really am. But those photos are important. Your image is extremely important right now. You’re always beautiful, Maci, but if readers see you as damaged, a basket case, they’ll question things, and it’ll be harder on you with those questions bombarding you. I know damn well you don’t want to spend the first month in the public eye answering questions about why it looked like you were crying, why you looked so unhappy.”

  She was right, yet I still huffed my frustration. “I just wish we didn’t have to use him as the catalyst to get decent photos of me, that’s all.”

  “I know, but it’s done. No more photos for now. Oh, Cam texted me while we were there and said your signing at a local bookstore for Saturday is all scheduled. As soon as Fie sends the headshots, they’ll have a banner and some flyers printed up.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “I can’t believe my face is going to be splattered all over the place.”

  “Well, they’re going to focus more on your covers than they will your face, but yeah, your headshot will be on everything.”

  Great, just what I wanted.

  Chapter Twelve

  Liam: Surprise Signatures

  Seeing her at the photography studio, her face so sullen and tired, really dug at my heart—as if I needed any more wounds that would never heal. I didn’t quite understand why she was taking this so hard. I mean, she was the one who dug her grave, she was the one who made the mistakes, yet I still felt bad that I was the one acting evil.

  No, it wasn’t my fault. She crossed the line, ending the war before it ever began. Regardless of what my heart wanted, my head screamed for me to get over her and keep my distance, never opening up to fail again.

  Making my way to my library, I was on a mission. M.L. Thomas fan or not, the books would have to go. They’d just be a constant reminder of what killed our chances of being together. I couldn’t have the evidence taking up space on my shelves.

  With little effort, I found them, pulling one from the shelf to examine it one last time. I was unsure if I should donate them or just toss them in the garbage, the latter seeming wasteful since I was sure there would be some other poor schmuck out there who would enjoy them—who didn’t get their heart broken by the author.

  Thumbing through, the pages smelling so insanely good—I loved the smell of paper books—something caught my eye I hadn’t seen the numerous times I’d read this one before. My fingers danced over the page, feeling the indentations where the blue-inked signature pressed into the crème-colored page.

  “She signed it,” I whispered, unsure what to make of this. She must’ve snuck in here while staying over one night. But what was her end game? What was her reasoning for doing this? Did she think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, only someone who wanted to be noticed would mark their existence right? This signature was like a beacon in the night, like graffiti on a wall that said Maci Was Here. It was almost as if she knew she was going to tell me someday.

  My phone buzzed, startling me and making me feel like I needed to hide the books for fear that someone would catch me looking at them. Dropping it with a thud on my desk, I pulled my phone from my pocket and glared at the screen like it had betrayed me somehow. Thad was calling, no need for me to get all bent out of shape over nothing. I was turning into such a pussy.

  “Sup?” I answered, needing the distraction from my own mind. Last thing I needed was continuing to dwell on things as trivial as signed books. Chicks sure did know how to fuck with my mind, making me doubt myself in every possible way.

  “I’m coming over,” he demanded, hanging up before I could protest.

  “Damn him!” I cursed, placing my now-signed book back on the shelf and walking out of the library, furious with Thad’s insistence on cheering me up, yet internally grateful for his overwhelming acts as a friend.

  *****

  Thad came over, food in hand, so we could burry my sorrows in a good fighting game. At first, I didn’t think I’d be able to stomach any food, but after smelling the Greek gyros he brought, my belly grumbled and I quickly changed my fickle mind. Plus, who could resist a little Mortal Kombat action? I was initially worried it’d remind me too much of Maci, memories of our first date seeping into the forefront of my mind. Then again, anything I did or thought of seemed to remind me of her. So, all around, I was fucked, and a round of Mortal Kombat wouldn’t change that.

  “Ahh, fuck! Stop hitting me!” Thad yelled, his thumbs smashing the controller with anger as his character tried to dodge my punches.

  “I’d stop hitting you if you’d actually get your guard up and quit being a grandma,” I scolded back, heckling him so he’d actually put up a good fight. So far, this was boring, beating him over and over again, and totally not working to take my mind off my troubles. Maybe I was just more into it, my aggressiveness heightened due to my emotional state. Or maybe he just sucked ass at this game, the latter being way more believable.

  “Dude, you are fucking ruthless at this game,” he said, tossing his controller aside when I finally won the match. His anger was comical—a prime example of rage quitting at its finest, no matter how many times I beat his whiny ass.

  “Wanna go again?” I asked, eager to keep my mind occupied, even a little.

  “Yeah, just give me a minute to breathe. Shit.” His little hissy fits when he lost were so adorable in a crybaby sort of way, and a light chuckle left my lips unbidden. “Holy hell, was that a laugh?”

  “Shut it,” I warned. Leave it to Thad to press my buttons just when my spirits were lifting a bit. My mind was a whirlwind of confusing thoughts as I remembered the books, deciding to get his take on it. “Umm, she signed my books,” I blurted out, never bothering to set up the conversation or explain what I was talking about. In all honesty, I’d likely chicken out and never talk to him about shit if I didn’t just come out and say it when it was on my mind.

  “Huh?” he asked, his responses always of the intellectual quality. The confused look on his face as he lifted his head from his hands emboldened me a bit, and I decided talking about it was way better than holding it in. After all, his opinion mattered, no matter how immature of an opinion it might be.

  “My M.L. Thomas books—she signed them without me knowing. I
just saw today, right before you decided to invite yourself over to bug the shit out of me,” I said, looking at him curiously to see what he thought, the dig at the end only a natural way for us to treat each other, even when talking about something important or overly emotional for us.

  “Hmm, and what were you doing looking in the books? Trying to torture yourself?” he asked, hitting the nail on the head. He knew me too well, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

  “Nah, I was contemplating whether to throw them away or donate them, but I’m not so sure I can get rid of them at all now that she’s branded them.” Looking down at the controller in my hands, I traced light circles over the buttons with my thumbs, waiting for his judgmental response to figuratively slap me in the back of the head.

  “Getting rid of them would be stupid,” Thad said honestly, the slap not coming like I’d anticipated. “I mean, no matter what happens between you two, you still love the books. Ditching the fictional characters you love just because things don’t work out in real life is pussy talk.”

  I never looked at him as he spoke, unsure of how to respond. I knew I was being silly, but the fact those books were sitting on my shelves felt like there was a hole being burnt through the walls. I could feel the heat from them boring through me like a wildfire. Just the thought that her books were there, had been there all this time without my knowledge that they were hers, had my emotions bouncing all over the place, my head muddled with frenzied thoughts about her and the situation we were in.

  “Thanks for that insight,” I joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

  “I mean it though,” he said, punching me in the arm to get my full attention. I still didn’t look at him, pretending like my controller was the most interesting thing in my world. “It’s not going to make you feel better to get rid of them, and you know it. Plus, did you ever stop to think you might be the only one on this planet with signed first editions of her books?”