My Big Fat Fake Engagement

by Landish, Lauren

  Meanwhile, inside the office, Ross and I feel like we just limped off the field after being victimized by the NFL’s All-Time Greatest Defenses.

  “Shit.”

  It’s been Ross’s favorite word over the past few hours as he’s checked the web for coverage of the event. And yup, not only did Jeffrey’s pipe bomb of a speech get streamed live, but it was mixed right into the longer bit that went on the noon news. Worse, it got picked up by the tabloid sites as soon as an Andrews engagement was mentioned, and even broader coverage with the name Jeffrey Sanders attached to the story.

  In other words . . . shit.

  “What now?”

  “Another repost,” Ross bemoans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Vi’s gonna skin me alive, and Court peeled out of here like her ass was on fire. I’m sorry, man. We’ll get it all worked out.”

  I should be chill, should be a calm little flower floating on the sea. It’s what I’m known for, but right now, I’m not . . . by a long shot. I’m frustrated, because right before Jeffrey kick-fucked everything, I was considering the odds of a happily ever after, imagining that by some miracle, we could continue this relationship we’ve developed for real, pretending that everyone would understand and accept it.

  “You mean I’ll get it worked out.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ross asks, obviously hurt. “Fuck, man, it’s my neck too.”

  I shake my head, trying to keep my temper in check. I’m not really mad at Ross. I’m mad at the situation, at the look on Courtney’s face when she left, and mostly, at my inability to fix it.

  I’m the fix-it guy. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Hell, I should’ve foreseen this and fixed it before it was even an issue.

  You’re furious at yourself for getting blindsided.

  But Ross is right. We’ve both got skin in this game. “Nothing. I’ll take care of it. I texted and sent an email to the PR department at Andrews. They said they’re ready for anything, although they’re waiting on Morgan before making a move. I’ll send Vi flowers and chocolate and those bath bombs she likes to soak in as an apology. And tonight, I’ll stop by Court’s place and apologize. Hopefully, she’s not too mad to keep up the charade or the whole thing’s going to blow up in our faces.”

  Ross looks at me in shock. “Fuck, man. You’re good. I’m still in breakdown mode and you’ve already got shit handled.”

  I shrug, knowing he’s right. When things go to hell, I have to find control in the chaos to maintain my sanity. “It’s what I do.”

  “Okay, let’s put our brains together and talk it through. We knew Jeffrey and Missy were up to something, but what does this get them?” Ross muses. “Is this really because Missy is this hungry for your dick? No offense, but it’s not that impressive.” I throw a pencil at him in a silent fuck you. More seriously, he says, “It’s just so out of touch for Jeffrey. He’s not a man who does anything carelessly or accidentally. What’s his endgame?”

  It’s a question we’ve batted around time after time, or at least I have mentally. I’ve spent hours over the past few months trying to analyze, calculate, strategize every permutation, every scenario.

  Too bad I didn’t see this particular situation, the nuclear pipe bomb.

  “Well, first, we made the expansion announcement as planned. Nothing to be gained or lost there, and his ass is publicly in the sling if he backs out. The only thing not planned today was including the women in the announcement, something we specifically said not to do, so that’s the key. What does that net, and how does that tie in to Missy’s meeting with your dad?”

  Ross nods, following me.

  “I think Missy chatted up Morgan and asked about Court. He wouldn’t have thought a thing about her asking about his daughter, especially if she made it part of her small talk chatter. She can play the charm when she wants to.” I shudder, thinking about her running her nails on me. It’s not a charm that appeals to me at all.

  “So Missy knows it’s a lie. If she told Jeffrey, his best bet would’ve been to walk away from the contract . . . but he didn’t. There’s still something we’re missing.” Ross scribbles on the paper in front of him, thinking.

  “Missy must’ve told him to make the announcement, knowing that it was a pinch point. But that still gets us back to Missy. I don’t think this is a Jeffrey thing or Missy doing something on his behalf. I think it’s solidly, one hundred percent Missy fucking with us. With me,” I summarize.

  We’re quiet for a moment, both our minds switching from ‘what’s Jeffrey’s endgame’ to ‘what’s Missy’s endgame’ because that is the more likely root cause of all this.

  “Why would your dad have even met with her?” I ask suddenly. “Andrews and Sanders have never worked together before. It’s why we went to Jeffrey in the first place.”

  Ross puts his hands on his head, elbows wide as he leans back in his chair. “Dad doesn’t know about our contract with Sanders. Or he didn’t until it was splashed all over the news today.”

  “What?” I ask, shocked. I mean, I get not asking Morgan for money, but to not talk about our expansion plans with his dad seems strange for Ross. “Why?”

  “I wanted to do this on my own. On our own. Kaede, I wanted to build this place as a testament to our skills, not my family’s old boys network. So I didn’t tell him the details past our doing well. We talked about not wanting Andrews to be our investment partner, so I was waiting to tell him until it was a done deal.”

  “It was a done deal!” I growl, more frustrated than ever. “We signed the contract. Hell, man, stepping out of the old man’s shadow is one thing, but not telling him who you’re working with is another. Obviously, since it’s coming back to bite us in the ass!”

  Ross’s eyes go sharp. He’s never liked being called out so bluntly to his face, even by me. “Really? Not telling him is the cardinal sin? Pot, kettle, you hypocritical fuck.”

  “What are you talking about?” I growl, my own anger rising.

  Ross stands up, planting his hands on his desk to stare directly into my eyes. “You’re fucking my sister, asshole!”

  He knows!

  I stand, bracing for the punch I figure is coming. I might deserve it, but I’m ready to throw right back at him too. I’m mad, feeling the loss of Courtney already, and Ross is a good target to take that out on, especially since he’s the reason I’m holding back with her. “And?”

  “And I’ve given you every chance to come to me, man to man, and tell me!” Ross half yells. “Yeah, I’d have been pissed, but I figured you were the one son of a bitch on this planet I could trust with Courtney. But did you? Were you a fucking man about it? No, you’ve been avoiding me instead. The one thing I told you—don’t hurt her—and you go and fuck her like some one-night stand.”

  I slam my hands on the desk too, nose to nose with Ross and ready to pound his fucking face in. “Don’t. It’s not like that!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know since you won’t talk to me about it.”

  For a long ten seconds, Ross and I glare at each other, and finally, I pull back, decades of friendship and brotherly love stopping me from turning him into a bloody pile in the corner. Instead, I start pacing back and forth, pulling at my hair in frustration. “Goddammit, Ross, I wanted to so many times! But it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  Ross stops and crosses his arms over his chest. “Like what?”

  “I—” I start, but I can’t say it. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t tell Ross before I tell Courtney. Finally, I sit back down, my head in my hands. “She deserves better than me.”

  I know it. Ross knows it. That’s why he’s so mad. I broke the guy code, and the unspoken social code, too. I got too big for my britches, thought I had grown enough to earn my place at the table. But I’m still just passing. I lean back in the chair, defeated.

  Ross considers saying something, but his phone dings and he looks at it. “Fuck,” he growls. “Family meeting. At the estate. But
we need to finish this.” He points at me sharply, his eyes glaring and not remotely done yelling at me.

  Without another word, Ross leaves, leaving me in his office alone. The pissed off, hurt, rejected kid in me wants to grab the big pink liquid chalk marker on his desk and graffiti the shit out of his chair, maybe carve a big fuck you into his desk.

  But instead, I leave, wandering aimlessly around the gym. I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to do this. I built my dream, but I can feel it crumbling around me.

  Funny thing is, none of it matters.

  The only thing I care about is Courtney.

  And that little voice in me whispers again.

  Fuck the rules . . . burn it down.

  Chapter 27

  Courtney

  “You sure about this?” Ross asks me as our emergency family meeting wraps up.

  Dad and Mom are watching him carefully. Abi is making murder eyes at him, promising pain if he so much as says one negative word to me about Kaede.

  I hug him. “You have looked out for me for a long time. I don’t need your help or your approval with this.”

  He holds his hands up, palms facing me. “Go get him, Sis. Make him work for it. You’re worth it.”

  He turns back to Dad, effectively dismissing me to go on my mission. “Okay, let’s run through this one more time.”

  At least Ross and Dad are working out more of their shit, actually working together instead of against each other for once.

  * * *

  “I hereby call to order this emergency meeting,” I declare, standing on my coffee table. Violet, Abi, and Archie sit on my couch, shoved in amid the pillows, with rapt eyes locked on me.

  Archie leans over to Violet, singsonging out the side of his mouth. “She’s losing it. Didn’t they just have a family meeting?”

  Violet talks back, her lips not moving. “That’s what Ross said. I didn’t go because I was crying over baby blankets. You know what I know, which is jack shit.”

  “Zip it,” I bark.

  Archie looks at me in surprise, ‘girl, you did not . . .’ written in the lift of his brows and the challenge in his eyes. I glare back, not backing down. After a moment, he nods, letting me be Queen Bee. For now.

  “Yes, we had a family meeting, mostly for Dad and Ross. This is not about that. This is about something even more important.”

  “More important than Ross’s business? Kaede’s business?” Violet asks, looking to Abi for backup. Abi was in our family meeting too, so she just puts a finger to her mouth, supporting me in my need for them to shut the fuck up so I can get on with this.

  “This is about war . . . on Kaede,” I declare.

  Well, that gets their attention.

  Archie leans forward, his eyes burning. “What did he do? Never mind, I just want to know what we’re going to do. Are we bug bombing his apartment? Vandalizing his car? Or ooh, I saw this thing where you sneak in and put shrimps in the curtain rods and they just rot away. He’ll never find them and just live with the stench. It’ll permeate his furniture, his clothes, his skin. He’ll never get another woman again.”

  Okay . . . Archie is weird. And vindictive to a level that makes me understand why all his former boyfriends never want to be ‘just friends’ afterward. “Remind me to never piss you off. And on an unrelated note, I’m gonna need my emergency apartment key back from you.”

  Vi raises her hand. “Our place too.” Abi raises her hand silently too.

  Archie huffs haughtily. “As if I need a key to get into any of your places. I can pick locks. Misspent youth.”

  Why does he say that proudly?

  “Whatever,” I say with a shake of my head. “Either way, it’s not that kind of war.”

  “What kind of war do you mean?” Violet asks, her voice tight.

  “I misspoke,” I answer, looking each of them in the eye directly. “Because this isn’t going to be a war on Kaede. This is going to be a war for Kaede. I want him, and I’m going to get him.”

  Three, two, one of silence . . . and then pandemonium breaks out.

  “Hell yes, girl!”

  “About time!”

  “Pay up!”

  That one’s Violet. She holds her hand out to Archie and he tut-tuts. “Bankroll’s at home so I’ll pay you later.”

  “You bet on me and Kaede?” I ask incredulously.

  “Duh, darling,” Archie says. “We’ve had a pot going since dinner at Vi’s. And can I say, for such a smart bitch, you are really fucking stupid. My date passed weeks ago. Weeks. You hear me?” He huffs again. “I wanted that money pot, had my eye on a new pair of patent leopard Doc Martens, but does anyone care what I want? No.”

  I snap my fingers. “Guys. Focus. I need your help here.”

  Abi stands and sticks her fingers in her mouth, whistling loudly. Great, now my neighbors are going to call on me. One more thing to deal with!

  But as Violet and Archie hush and look at Abi, I know I’ve lost full control of this meeting. Huge board rooms full of staff? No problemo. My own living room with three friends? Zero authority.

  “What Courtney is trying to say, if she’d ever get to the point, is that Kaede has some kind of inferiority complex that’s based on shit only in his head.” She shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “We’ve all got our issues.”

  Isn’t that the truth?

  “And she needs us to get her gussied up because she’s going to get her man.”

  It’s like she said the magic words because Archie and Violet are automatically standing too, pulling me from the coffee table. “Why didn’t you say so, darling? Let’s get to work! Get in the shower. Now. Shave everything, and I do mean everything.”

  Archie looks at Vi. “Think we could get an emergency wax session?” Without waiting for an answer, he shakes his head. “No, shaving will have to do. Do a good job, no nicks on the lips unless it’s the good kind.”

  I blink. And blink again. I’ve been friends with Archie for years at this point, and I still never quite know what to make of the things that come out of his mouth. But I don’t get a chance to clarify because I’m shoved into the bathroom with stern orders to hurry, but be careful.

  It’s one or the other, people!

  As I strip, I can already hear the three of them going through my drawers and chatting about my closet. ‘Matronly’ and ‘uh, okay, Katie Holmes’ don’t sound like compliments ,so I’d better get my ass in gear.

  My shower is fast and steamy so that I can shave . . . everything. I come out still wrapped in a towel.

  Abi hands over my favorite lotion from the bedside table. “Everywhere.”

  I look at Archie, embarrassed. I’m close to my sister and Violet, but we don’t exactly have naked sleepovers despite what PornHub says. And Archie’s a guy.

  He turns around, heading back into my closet, though he calls over his shoulder, “Don’t want whatcha got, honey. And trust me, I’ve seen enough to know that one hole is pretty much like any other.”

  Violet blanches. “Oh, my God, I just realized that when I give birth, the whole room is going to see my vagina. Like legs spread, spotlight on, with the doctor’s head and hands all up in there.” She spreads the air in front of her with cupped hands, like the doctor is going to be spelunking in her lady cave to get the baby.

  Abi pats her hand. “Don’t worry. They deliver babies all the time. They won’t care about what you look like . . . not when there’s a watermelon stretching your girly bits out like a too-small turtleneck over a too-big head.”

  Violet decides now is a good time to sit down and waves the rest of us on to continue getting ready. “I’m fine. Just gonna sit down while I still can.”

  A half hour later, I’m transformed, wearing exactly what I need to become Kaede’s ultimate sex bomb seductress and win this war.

  I’ve got on my white pencil skirt, the one Kaede mentioned a particular fantasy about, five-inch heels, and a low-cut slinky blouse that makes my boobs swell up some.
>
  “Shit, your ass got big,” Abi grunts as she tries to zip up the closure on the skirt. I suck in and tighten my glutes a little, and with one more tug, she gets it past the biggest curve and then everything slides easily. “And your waist got smaller.” To Violet and Archie, she says, “Have I mentioned I hate my little sister?”

  “Squats do a body good,” I say sassily, looking at myself in the mirror. Outfit . . . on point. Makeup . . . the perfect red lipstick that screams ‘ready for sex’ and a pale gray smoky eye that makes every blink a flirt. Body . . . banging. Heartrate . . . skyrocketing.

  I do look great, classy but sultry.

  I’ve only got one piece of jewelry on, my engagement ring strung on a simple gold chain and hung around my neck where it dangles at the top of my cleavage. “How do I look?”

  Abi whistles again, this time softly. “He’s not going to know what hit him.”

  Archie nods like a bobblehead, his lips pursed. “You look so good that even I’d do you. And as we’ve established, I’m not a vajayjay sort.”

  I laugh, understanding the compliment.

  Violet is wiping at her eyes again. “You look beautiful, Courtney. I’m so excited for you. And for Kaede. You deserve each other.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, burning heat building behind my eyes. I fan my face. “Ahh, don’t make me cry. It’ll ruin my makeup.”

  Archie fans me too. “Hell no, girl. I worked too hard on that shadow. Don’t you dare. Think about something else . . . old man farts that scorch your nose hair, baby elephants playing in mud and getting stuck on their backs, or I can tell you about my date yesterday?”

  “No!” I yell. “I’m good. No tears. No story.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

  We take each other’s hands, a battle circle sending me off to war.