Faker: A Fake Relationship Romance

by Christie Tegan

  But a successful relationship can’t be one-sided, and he hasn’t demonstrated any interest in me whatsoever, physically, emotionally, or anything in between.

  Zero. Zilch. Nada.

  Friday morning I’m lying in bed trying to decide what to do with the day when my phone pings. Picking it up, I see an unfamiliar number. Should I answer it? Could be an old client although most of my referrals have finally petered out. All that hard work networking gone in a few months. Curiosity wins the day, and I swipe to answer. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Marley. This is Saylor Creed.”

  “Oh.” I’m stunned by this call out of the blue. “Hi, Saylor. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Listen, I know this is ridiculously short notice, but I was wondering if you could have lunch with me today. I would like to get to know you better.”

  “Uh… I would love that actually. What time?”

  “Is one o’clock a good time for you?”

  “Yes, perfect. Tell me where.”

  “I’m texting you the address now. It’s not too far from Fletch’s office.”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  I drop my head back on the pillow and consider this turn of events. Is this just a friendly overture or is something up?

  And the next thing I have to ponder is what the hell to wear.

  My Uber is stuck in midday traffic and it’s now…I glance at my phone… four minutes before one o’clock. I’m going to be late for lunch with my sister-in-law. “Listen,” I say to the driver, “I’m going to get out here. I’m already running late, and it’ll be faster if I walk.”

  The driver shrugs. The fare’s paid so that’s all he has to worry about. I push open the door and say thank you. I have three and a half minutes to get almost six blocks away.

  Crayons is the name of the restaurant. Fortunately, the wedge sandals I’m wearing are so comfortable that I could nearly run in them. I get there four minutes late, which isn’t too bad. Breathless, I rush in and stop short when the host comes to greet me. “I’m meeting Saylor Creed,” I say quickly and without thinking.

  The man’s eyes flare open wide like umbrellas. Now he knows she’s a Creed. Oh well, we’ll get better service.

  “Right this way, please.”

  Saylor waves when she sees me enter the interior dining room. There’s also a courtyard out back, but the day is hot and sticky, and it’s more comfortable in the air-conditioned interior. I step over and lean in to give her a peck on the cheek, and she smiles. “Please sit, Marley. I’m so happy that you could make it today.”

  “I am too. You look great,” I say truthfully. Saylor is beautiful. Unlike her dark-haired brothers, she has soft camel-brown hair and it’s shot throughout with blond high- and lowlights. High cheekbones and bright hazel eyes make her features prominent.

  “You too. Have you ever been here before?”

  I shake my head. “Have you?”

  “Yes, and I recommend the salads. Any one of them—they’re all delicious.”

  The waiter is hovering nearby so both of us quickly scan the menu and order. As soon as the drinks are served, she nods her head and smiles. “So tell me, how is life going as Mrs. Fletcher Creed?”

  I chuckle, unnerved by her directness. “All in all, I’d say it’s not too bad.”

  She leans in close, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Does he treat you well? You can tell me if he abuses you terribly.”

  I’m glad I insisted on iced tea instead of the wine Saylor tried to convince me to have. This lunch is her fishing expedition. Here I thought I was going to be the one to gain information, but she apparently has ulterior motives.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s a perfect gentleman. If I had to criticize anything, I’d say I rarely see him. He’s always working or doing something.”

  “That’s my brother, always in motion. Like a shark. If he ever stops going, that’s when you should worry.”

  “Hmm. That’s good to know.”

  “So… what has he told you about our family?”

  “Not as much as I’d like… not much at all. I know about your grandmother… I’ve met her a few times. She’s really ni—”

  She jumps in to interject. “Oh, I know. She really likes you, and I swear to you that she doesn’t like most people she meets. So that’s sort of an accomplishment. Yay you.”

  “Really? That’s nice to hear. Fletcher told me about your grandfather, how he ruled over the family. He told me your parents were both busy professionals so he… well, all three of you had to become self-sufficient.”

  “Well, we always had nannies and other staff to help. But maybe he means emotionally self-sufficient.” Her eyes fix on mine. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing that springs to mind, no. Is there something he should have told me?”

  The animation leaves her face. “Maybe not.” She lifts her glass and takes a long drink.

  I turn my attention to my Mediterranean salad—it’s loaded with olives, provolone cheese, fresh basil, and tomatoes. If I were home alone, I’d get into baggy clothes and scarf it down for sure. Since I’m in public, I try to eat daintily. When I look up, I see Saylor’s attention is elsewhere. I follow the direction of her eyes to see an attractive man getting up to leave. “Well, no wonder,” I say.

  Her eyes bounce back to me, and she blushes. “I’m sorry. I used to date that guy. I was just wondering whether I should say hello or not.”

  “The one in black?” She nods. “Are you still friends?”

  She laughs. “Definitely not. But I sort of wish we were.” She takes another sip of her drink. “Okay, so where were we?”

  I clear my throat, determined to get some intel out of this lunch. “Do you know your brother’s friend Kelly?”

  “Kelly?” she echoes with a smirk. “Oh, yeah.” Her eyebrows knit together. “Why? Has she been hounding you?”

  I blow out my breath. “Sort of. I mean, I don’t want to be unkind, but she acts as if she has dibs on Fletcher despite the fact that I’m married to him.”

  Saylor waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. “She probably won’t give up easily. I know her type—once she got her claws into Fletcher, she thought game over. You’ll need to get harsh with her, more likely than not.” She laughs. “Kelly’s like a persistent rash. If you don’t nip it in the bud, it’ll only get worse.”

  I laugh. “Saylor…” I pause, trying to choose my words carefully. “Do you know why Fletcher always has security around him? Did something happen to him… ever?”

  And… wow. Her face changes instantly, going from animated to blank in a second. She angles her head toward the front of the café and then looks back at me. “You see that man in the dark shirt and tan pants?”

  I follow her gaze. There’s a man, a large man, bulky with muscles, sitting at a nearby table by himself and staring straight at us. I nod, late to drag my eyes back to her.

  “He’s mine.”

  “Yours?”

  She nods assent. “My bodyguard. We all have them.”

  “So you feel the same way as Fletcher then? That your safety is always in jeopardy?”

  “I’m not as fanatical as my brother, but I try to be smart about my safety. We were kidnapped as kids so… yeah, that’s why.”

  Did I just hear her right?

  “Kidnapped?”

  22

  Marley Jacobs

  My mouth drops open, and I stare at her like a drooling idiot. That was information I never expected to hear. Kidnapped? Why didn’t Fletcher ever tell me that? My instinct is to just blurt out my shock. “Get out of town.”

  “No, I like it here.” She chuckles. “It’s true. That’s why Fletcher is overly cautious. You have one too, you know.”

  “What do I have?”

  “A bodyguard. Every time you leave the house, he follows.”

  I’m staring at her in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Her brows arch, and she s
hakes her head slowly and deliberately. I look all around me but don’t see anyone who appears to be watching me. “Where is he?”

  “Outside. When any two of us are together, they coordinate—one stays inside and one out.”

  I sit back in my chair, entirely astonished at this revelation. It all makes sense now, though.

  “Can you tell me more about it?”

  She sighs. “Really, my brother is the one who should’ve told you. He doesn’t like to talk about it because it was very traumatic and…” She trails off.

  “I would imagine it would be. Was it for ransom?”

  “Yes and no. I mean, they wanted money, but it was also a political statement, I think. We were living in Botswana because my parents were on a long-term assignment. Our nanny may have—and it’s never been established definitively—been in league with them. They did ask for money, but my parents always thought there was more to it than that—that they were either targeted because of their work or because we’re from a prominent family. We never found out—at least my parents never told us if they did.”

  “All three of you were taken?”

  “Yes.” She pauses for a beat. “Our nanny had picked us up from the American school and there was a dark sedan waiting. In fairness to her, it did look like our usual car, but she should’ve known as soon as she opened the door that something was wrong when the driver was a total stranger who also didn’t get out of the car to open our doors as our regulars did. Yet she said nothing until he drove us to a remote area and stopped the car.”

  “I guess you couldn’t get away once the car was moving. Plus, you were kids—how old were you?

  “Bram was twelve, Fletch was ten, and I was seven—almost eight.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. Go on.”

  “When he stopped the car, four men were waiting, and they blindfolded us and put us in another car. That was when Zalika—our nanny— finally spoke up but it was far too late.” She stops and dips her fork back into her seafood salad. Spears a shrimp. Takes a bite, chews, and swallows. Pats her mouth with the white linen napkin. I’m watching her every move and micro-expression.

  She places her napkin back on her lap. “It’s past history. But Fletch was traumatized.”

  I scoff. “Who could blame him? How long were you held by them?”

  “Nearly a week. But my brother Bram tried to escape and jumped down from a balcony at the house where they were keeping us. He broke his leg in four places. The kidnappers never got a doctor to set it. When my parents got us back, after we were checked out and a doctor tended to Bram, they flew us home to the States and took Bram directly to a hospital in New York. They had to rebreak the leg to set it right, but by then it had fused badly, and it was never the same again. Bram had to give up track—he’d been a talented sprinter and wanted to take up pole vaulting. Fletch has always felt guilty because it was his idea.”

  “To run?”

  She nods, swallowing wine. “Yeah, he was always the man with the plan even though Bram was older. Fletch told us he was going to jump down. He said for us to wait, and he’d bring back help. He told us that if we got a chance to run—you know, if they opened the door—to go for it and hide somewhere until the police arrived.”

  “He didn’t make it?”

  “Bram didn’t listen and jumped out after him. He told me to jump once he got down, and he’d catch me.”

  “But… he broke his leg?”

  “Yeah, badly. He couldn’t walk, much less run.”

  “Did Fletcher go and get help?”

  “Yes, but… it cost us.”

  I’m afraid to ask. “How so?”

  She shakes her head as if she’s trying to dismiss the memory. I change to a different question. “What happened to the nanny?”

  A strange look passes over her face. “Yeah, that’s the second part that scarred Fletch. Scarred all of us really. They raped her in front of Bram and me—luckily, I didn’t really know what was going on—and then I guess she was shot by the armed forces that came to rescue us. They couldn’t be sure if she was a co-conspirator and didn’t want to take any chances. At least that’s what they told our parents, and we overheard their conversation. Our parents didn’t tell us much of anything.”

  I clap my hand over my mouth. “Oh. My. God. That’s awful.”

  “It was. But... children, I think, are way more resilient than adults give them credit for. If it happened today, I think I’d be a lot more freaked out than I was back then.”

  “But Fletcher didn’t see all that?”

  “No. He actually found someone to call the police, and they kept him in the police vehicle. But he heard all about it from Bram and me.”

  She must see the shock on my face because she spurts out an awkward laugh. “We should move on to a different topic. Let’s see… oh, I know. I never thought Fletcher would ever get hitched. He surprised all of us with this sudden marriage.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  She twitches her shoulder. “I suppose it was a wild hunch because he told every woman he ever dated that he wasn’t the marrying kind. One woman—her name was Gatsby, believe it or not—told me that when they first met, after she gave him her phone number, he told her that if she felt her biological clock ticking, she probably shouldn’t waste time with him because he’d never marry and settle down.” Saylor tosses her head back and laughs.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “She thought it was hilarious and dated him anyway. I guess it was because he met her at her birthday party that a friend brought him to. She’d just turned thirty, and I suppose he figured she’d be on the prowl for a husband and sperm donor.” She threw up her hands. “What can I say? He’s a jerk.”

  Saylor pushes her plate away and sits back in her chair. “I should add, though, that Fletch has never been a serial womanizer. It’s true that the women he dated never lasted beyond a couple of months, but he’s not always on the prowl. He’s perfectly content when he’s single and not dating. It’s funny, my brother Bram is the complete opposite.”

  I lean forward to hear every syllable. This lunch is proving very educational. “How do you mean?”

  “Married by twenty-eight to a woman he’d dated exclusively for four years. He runs a company that builds medical robotics. He and his wife have no kids yet they rarely travel or do anything adventurous at all. They hike with their dogs and try out new restaurants.

  “Then there’s Fletch who travels the world, seeks out adventure, and can very easily drift into becoming an adrenaline junkie. We all have to stay on our toes to keep him on the ground.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Put it this way—he likes to go fast.”

  “So he courts danger at the same time as being paranoid that it will find him?”

  “Well, there are dangers he runs from and others he runs toward.”

  “He’s gone on only one trip in the few months we’ve been married.”

  She winks at me. “Maybe you’re changing him. Tell me how you did it. How did you manage to change his mind about marrying?”

  We’re getting into dangerous territory, so I have to redirect. I shrug with a grin and immediately launch into another question for her. “What about you?” I ask. “Bram has his feet on the ground, and Fletcher is a traveler. Where do you fit in?”

  “You’ll usually find me in the middle. Not married, but I have a few men I see from time to time. Not an adrenaline junkie, but I love to travel.” She points her finger at me. “Although I take that back. I did go ziplining in Costa Rica last year, and a guy I was dating got me to try deep-sea scuba diving. I had to become certified first so it took effort.” She leans forward and whispers, “But I really liked that boy so I made the effort.”

  “Are you still seeing him?”

  “Matt? Yes, on occasion. Not as much as I used to, though.” She takes a long drink on her glass of iced water, having finished her wine. “What about you? What gets you goi
ng?”

  I lean back in my seat and inhale. I’ve eaten too fast and my stomach is protesting. “Me? I dance. I take dance lessons and yoga. I watch Netflix. And just lately I’ve started working my way through Fletcher’s library. Did you know that penguins survived the mass extinction of the dinosaurs? They’ve been around for at least sixty million years.”

  Saylor bursts into laughter. “You’re reading about penguins? Girl, you need to get out more. Go spend some of my brother’s money. He has too much of it anyway.”

  That last remark piques my interest. It means the family isn’t aware of the financial issues of Fletcher’s company. Maybe the only one who suspects is the intuitive, hard-to-fool Grandma Creed. I got the feeling she was onto us, onto the reason for our hasty marriage. But I could be wrong.

  We finish our lunch and Saylor insists on picking up the check. As we exit the restaurant we see a broad-shouldered man, his dark hair in a buzzcut, dressed in black trousers and white shirt, the sleeves rolled up his ropey forearms, and a phone and some other equipment clipped to his belt. He’s wearing dark aviator sunglasses and trying to act casual. Saylor turns to me with a wicked little grin. “There’s your guy, Marley. Mine is right behind us.” She swivels her gaze and gives my guy a broad smile. “Hey, Tristan, how goes it?”

  The man’s blank expression breaks into a sexy grin. “It goes fine, Ms. Creed. How about you?”

  “Meh. Same old.” She takes my arm, pulling me closer to the bodyguard. “Marley didn’t even know you were shadowing her. The least you could do is introduce yourself.”

  He pulls a face. “The boss wanted me to stay inconspicuous, but now that you’ve blown my cover…” He turns to me. “Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Creed.”