The Fiction of Forever (A Stand By Me Novel Book 2)

by Brinda Berry

  I'm living for today.

  Chapter Ten

  Solidarity

  Six Years Ago, Shelby City, Arkansas

  Gunner

  The small apartment that I’m supposed to call home reeks of cigarette smoke and wet dog. Dirty ashtrays litter the end tables and empty pizza boxes fill the space behind the kitchen trashcan.

  There’s no dog, and I can’t figure out the source of the smell.

  How could Dad fall in love with a person like Jodie after having a life with Mom? Mom was a clean freak and our house smelled of clean linens and evergreen.

  I’ve gone from a house filled with hope and life to one a step removed from hell.

  I think about this disparity often, a mystery I’m determined to solve, but never do.

  I’m prepared to hate both Jodie—my dad’s new wife—and her daughter, Veronica. Within a month, I waver in my plan.

  It’s easy to dislike Jodie. Although she doesn’t do anything to me to directly, she treats the girl with a disregard that pisses me off. It’s as if Veronica is an afterthought. I can take care of myself, but Veronica? I’d guess that she’s been self-sufficient all her life.

  I sleep on the sofa because the apartment only has two bedrooms. When Dad and I moved in, he said we’d find a bigger place for all of us. Soon. The sleeping arrangement would be temporary.

  Soon doesn’t happen.

  I never go into the bedrooms. Sometimes, Dad and Jodie sleep all day and night. Or maybe they’re doing other things in there.

  I really don’t want to know. I’ve mentally checked out, sitting on my sofa bed and playing video games in marathon sessions. No more football practice or games. Nashville seems like a distant dream.

  Veronica hovers in the background, watching me all the time but never saying much. I don’t talk to her, either.

  It’s Christmas break, but we don’t have a tree. Not one twinkling light or piece of decoration. Dad and Jodie left days ago and haven’t returned. I’m playing Silent Hill and Veronica rises from an ugly orange recliner and goes to stand in front of the refrigerator.

  She’s so damned skinny, her T-shirt swallows her. The light of the fridge reflects off the sharp angles of all her bones. I know she’s thirteen and still growing. But shouldn’t she have hips and boobs? Maybe not. I try to remember if the girls back home did.

  Veronica closes the door and turns to me. “What will we do if they don’t come home?”

  I glance from the TV to her and back so I won’t get killed in my game. “They’ll come back.”

  “What if they don’t?” She walks to a stop in front of the TV.

  “Move,” I say, waving at her.

  She doesn’t listen. “No. We need groceries. I’m going to get a job or something.”

  I roll my eyes. “Who’s going to hire a thirteen-year-old kid?”

  “Don’t call me a kid. I can babysit in the building. We need something to eat. I don’t mind. I’ll buy enough for you, too.”

  I shake the video game controller and lean my head so I can see around her. “Look. You killed me.”

  She gets a hurt expression on her face, her eyebrows knitting together in the middle. “Don’t you care if we starve?”

  “No,” I lie.

  “Why do you hate me?”

  I’m shocked. “I don’t. Why do you think that?”

  “You never look at me or talk to me.”

  I exhale and my shoulders drop in defeat. “I don’t hate you. It’s…you’re a kid. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “You never ask me to play with you.” She signals at the television. “I’m not a kid. I’m almost the same age as you.”

  “There’s a huge difference between sixteen and thirteen.”

  She sits beside me on the sofa, something she hasn’t done since I made it my bed. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  “Hm,” I say. My throat closes up instantly. Why’d she have to say it? I forgot the bulk of my misery until she had to say it aloud.

  “You can talk to me,” she says. “Or not.”

  I ignore her and begin a new game, pressing the controller buttons harder than necessary. “If you want me to like you, don’t block my game again.”

  “OK,” she says, but doesn’t leave her seat beside me.

  “And forget about getting a job. You’re not going anywhere. I’ll call my grandpa. He’ll get us some groceries.”

  She tucks her feet underneath her body and nods. I try not to notice that she’s crying. Fucking shit. Why is she crying?

  “What?” I put the game controller down. “What now?”

  Her tears need to stop because I can’t deal with it. My chest contracts and I can’t breathe seeing them drip down her cheeks.

  “Nothing,” she whispers. “I don’t hate you either.”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I get up and hunt for my other controller.

  When I hand it to her, she takes it and places it in her lap. “I’ll watch for now,” she says softly.

  “Sounds good.” I continue to play until she falls asleep in her seated position. Her head droops to the side and I push her gently onto my pillow. It’s not so bad having company while I play video games.

  Later, I call Grandpa Joe. I don’t really know him, but Dad gave me his number in case of emergency. I decide this is it. Who knows if Dad and Jodie will return. I sure don’t.

  Grandpa doesn’t ask tons of questions when I call. I ask if he’ll bring me some groceries, and he says he’ll be right over. Instead, he shows up empty-handed.

  “You and Veronica can come home with me. Get your things. Write your dad a note,” he says with a curl to his lip. “Tell him that you and the girl are with me.”

  Grandpa Joe has a small three-bedroom house. There’s an anorexic, artificial tree in one corner with silver tinsel strewn over the branches. My dad’s mom died before I was born, but I’d bet he’s had the tree since Grandma died.

  Veronica doesn’t speak during the drive to Grandpa’s. It’s as if she’s afraid to mess up a good thing. I give her an encouraging smile so she’ll stop looking so worried. We follow him inside the house.

  “Where does Veronica sleep?” I ask Grandpa.

  “You take the good bedroom,” he says to her. He points to the hallway. “First door. There’s a bed and a dresser. Check the closet for blankets.”

  “Go on,” I say in a gentle tone, when she doesn’t move. I feel like the adult coaxing a child forward.

  She rubs her fingers over her mouth, scrubbing hard enough to hurt. I’ve noticed her doing it when she’s anxious. I’m confused. Isn’t she glad to be here? I sure am. This beats the hell out of the smelly apartment.

  I put one hand on her shoulder. “Are you afraid your mom will be mad?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Come on,” I say. It’s evident that she’s not going anywhere without me, as if she’s afraid of Grandpa.

  We walk down the narrow hallway together, side-by-side. She hugs her overnight bag to her chest. “I can sleep on the sofa,” she whispers to me.

  “He doesn’t want you to sleep there. You have a room.”

  She’s like a shadow behind me as I walk into the bedroom. It’s plain, a patchwork quilt on the bed and a white shade over the window. I pick up a photo from the top of a cherry dresser sitting against the far wall.

  I recognize my dad as a kid. He’s on one knee beside a shaggy dog.

  “That’s Jerry,” Grandpa says from the doorway.

  “Yeah.” I slide the photo back in place. “How long can we stay?”

  “Son, I’m not taking you back to that place. You’re staying here now.”

  Veronica wipes her hand over her mouth, her blue eyes huge in her pale face.

  I look away from her to Grandpa. “She stays if I do. Please, sir.”

  He’s quiet for several minutes. I’m sweating at the thought he’ll think I’m too much trouble or that she is.

  He lifts the J
ohn Deere tractor hat from his head. “She can if her mother will let her. I’m not her family.”

  “She stays with us,” I repeat. I don’t know why, but I need to know that the whole world hasn’t gone to shit. She’s not really my family either. I barely know her. But she has no one. Jodie is a sad excuse for a mother. At least I have the memory of my mom.

  Veronica needs me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Infatuation

  Current Day

  Kiley

  “Pinch me.” I frown at Tony and hold out my arm. “Go ahead. Do it. Because there is no way I’m awake.”

  He reaches across and bypasses my arm to give my cheek a friendly tweak. He lingers a second longer than I expect. “Yes, Gunner says he will be our star bachelor.”

  I drop into the patio chair and rub my bleary eyes. The coffee doesn’t help to perk me up after a night of tossing and turning. “Why would he change his mind?”

  Tony takes the seat opposite me. “I forwarded the compensation package yesterday. He emailed me this morning. He’s a guy of few words. Didn’t even ask the usual questions. I advised that he have an attorney look over the contract before he signed it. He said he’d do that today and get it back to me tomorrow.”

  “So, it’s final. He’ll be on the show?” My heart sinks. I’m so screwed. I’ll have to watch him with other women until I want to gouge my own eyes out.

  “You aren’t happy about it?” Tony’s forehead wrinkles into fine lines. “Ed made it sound like Gunner Parrish is your only chance to be on the show. You know how Ed is. He thought it would get him what he wants.”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s decided. So, me and Gunner.”

  “We haven’t done the studio tests. If he comes across the wrong way, I can advise that we find someone else for you.”

  “No. If Gunner wants to be on the show, then so be it.” It confirms everything about last night. If he wanted to pursue a relationship with me, he’d have declined the show. My head begins to pound. What the heck do I want? The show. Of course, I want the show.

  “Kiley, how about I make some lunch reservations. We could talk about the show and your ideas for this season. I liked what you said before. You’ve got a great sense for what the viewers want and how to make this fresh. How to reinvent Forever.”

  I rub a hand over my forehead. “OK. I can meet you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’ll run back out here and pick you up.”

  Tony’s voice barely cuts through my miserable state. “Sure. Whatever you want,” I answer, standing with my mug in hand. “I think I’ll take something for my headache. Make yourself at home. Dad should be back any minute. He said he had a quick errand to run.”

  He studies me. “Are you up for lunch? If you don’t feel well, we can make it another time.”

  “Lunch is great. I’ll see you then.” I smile with every ounce of energy I possess and hope he can’t see through my facade.

  After I leave Tony to his coffee on the patio, I retreat to my bedroom. I need alone time to pep talk myself into feeling better about Forever. I don’t look forward to discussing all the ways I’ll find Gunner’s future love.

  Twenty-four hours later, I conclude that Gunner can be a jackass. We spend only one hour in the Rolling Hills boardroom signing contracts and discussing the schedule, but I’m ready to kick him in the balls—something I’ve never in my life done. I could pop the violence cherry on him.

  And to think I’d been crushing on him for days.

  I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from screaming. OK. I inhale slowly. Then exhale. Every Matchmaker probably faces this sooner or later. I give my pageant queen smile, the authentic one I practiced for hours as a teen. “I think we should film some shots of Gunner in his element. His cabin could use an interior design update, but it would make a great opener. He—”

  “You’ve been to Gunner’s house?” Tony looks up from his notes.

  “What do you mean an update?” Gunner ignores Tony and glares across the table.

  Sweet Fanny Adams. He’s like an obstinate five-year-old who doesn’t want to get rid of his blankie. “You know. Maybe some woodsy-themed furniture, fabrics with rich golds and greens, some…” I trail off under the glacial look he continues to give me.

  “No changes to my place. It’s fine. If a woman doesn’t like me the way I am, then she can get lost.”

  I tamp down my frustration. It’s only the third thing I’ve suggested in preparation for filming and Gunner continues to hate every idea I have.

  My dad’s absent; he never participates in the pre-show arrangements. Tony sits to my left, his mouth tightening after each protest from Gunner.

  “Do you trust Kiley?” Tony folds his hands in front of him and waits for Gunner’s answer.

  “I don’t know,” he says.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I close my eyes for a second and inhale. This isn’t going as I’d planned. If he disagrees with one more item on my list, I’m going to fly across the table and throttle him.

  I open my eyes to Gunner’s stare. He’s grinning at me.

  “Maybe Kiley should come over and show me some of the changes she has in mind. She could bring some pictures because I don’t know anything about this decorating stuff she’s mentioned.”

  Tony glances between the two of us. “Good idea. You need to get comfortable with each other. The first show is all about Kiley going through the list of candidates for the speed rounds and then planning the follow-up dates for the remaining ten contenders. It helps if there are no awkward surprises in what you like.”

  “Makes sense to me.” Gunner nods and looks to me. “What do you think?”

  Now he’s agreeable? “Perfect,” I say. “Let’s do that. When?”

  “How about tonight?” he says. “I have some landscaping business to take care of this afternoon and then I could meet you at my place. You have the address?”

  “Memorized.” I kick him underneath the table. Yes, violence is definitely the answer.

  He jumps as I connect with his shinbone. “I look forward to it.”

  “Seven o’clock?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  As I get up from my seat, Gunner stands and says, “I’ll walk with you to your car.”

  Tony places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. It takes me off guard for a second. “I’ll call you later,” he says.

  “OK.” I’m sure he’s questioning Gunner’s negative responses to every idea I’ve had. If he’s going to be this difficult during the show, we’re in trouble.

  I grab my bag and Gunner opens the door for me. We walk in silence out to the parking garage of the production studio.

  “What are you playing at? Why do I need to come over tonight?” I stop suddenly and face him.

  He stumbles into me and his hands go to my shoulders. “To talk about the way you want to change all my stuff.”

  His fingers tighten for an instant and my nipples—with a mind of their own and little common sense—perk up and ask for more.

  I wrench away like he’s stung me. “I didn’t say I wanted to change everything. But my real question is why you went from disagreeing to everything I said to playing some kind of game now.”

  “Who’s playing games? Isn’t that why you came over the other night? To see if my house fit with your show concept?”

  I gasp. “I did no such thing. I came over because…I wanted…” I don’t really know where I’m going with my explanation. He’s grinning because he knows I didn’t come over for that reason.

  “Wanted what?”

  “Never mind. The point is that I dropped in with no ulterior motive.”

  “OK.”

  “OK? That’s it? I think you owe me an apology.”

  “Calm down.”

  “Hey,” I say with an edge to my voice. “I’m not asking that you be anything but honest. Do you really think that’s what I did? I don’t know if this is going t
o work if you accuse me of underhanded—”

  He takes a step forward, so close I can see the anger in his eyes. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m pushing your buttons because I’m frustrated and a little insulted.”

  His low voice disarms me. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

  I lick my lips and his gaze instantly flicks to my mouth.

  “I’m a grown man and I’ll be fine. It’s… It riled me when you were judging my place. I couldn’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks of my place. But you, I…” He shifts from one foot to another and tucks his hands into his jean’s pockets.

  “Me what?” I soften my voice. “I like your place. I do. It’s comfy and it’s you. But I want to help you make a good impression on the people who will judge by a first impression. People say it doesn’t matter, but it does.”

  “Maybe tonight you should see the bedroom.”

  My face heats and my eyes narrow. Oh, he is a wily one. I take a gulp and turn to walk the few remaining steps to my car. “Why is that?”

  “To see what you think. Maybe you’ll suggest it needs a makeover, too.”

  Right. The bedroom and Gunner’s bed. My belly clenches as a thrill shoots through me. I glance from beneath my lashes to see if I can read him.

  “'Will you walk into my parlor?' said the Spider to the Fly.”

  This fly will keep it professional.

  With shaking hands, I unbuckle my bag and remove my key fob. The SUV beeps as I hit the unlock button. “I can guess it’s similar to the living area.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not some designer. I really need your expert opinion.”

  We both reach out simultaneously to open the car door. I jerk my hand back as if he’s branded me.

  “I’ve got it.” He opens my door and waits for me to climb up into the driver’s seat of my SUV.

  My short skirt rides up and I catch him staring at my legs. I tug the hem down, my blush deepening. “I’ll see you at seven,” I say in my most business-like tone.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  His answer isn’t seductive in the least, but the look he gives me makes me hope I can make it through the rest of the day without jumping him and ripping his clothes off.