by R. R. Banks
Just another example of my little sister growing and maturing.
“Oh hey,” she said. “Are you going to Rick's funeral on Saturday?”
I shrug. “I don't know,” I say. “It's not like we were good friends or anything. We didn't run in the same circles. I feel like I might be intruding if I show up.”
“It might be weird if you don't show up,” she says. “Maybe you weren't good friends, but you were still friends.”
“Rick was friends with everybody in town,” I say. “I really doubt my attendance is going to be noticed one way or the other.”
She shrugs. “Sheridan Falls may be growing, but we're still a small town,” she says. “People notice things like this. You don't show up and that's when all the rumors start. You know how some of these old biddies are.”
That much was true. Sheridan Falls had almost doubled in size between the time I'd left and the time I'd come back. But it still retained that small-town feel. And one of the big features of small town life was everybody being in everybody else's business, gossip, rumors, and innuendo. It was entirely possible that if I didn't show up, one of the town gossips would conclude that I'd been having an affair with Rick and couldn't bear to be there at the same time as his wife.
Rumors don't need to be logical – or even accurate. They simply need ears to listen and mouths to pass it along. Which, some people were more than willing to do. But then, the other factor was that I didn't really care what people thought of me.
“I don't know,” I say. “I might.”
Chapter Eleven
Caleb
I crest the hill on Miller's Road and get my first glimpse of Sheridan Falls as it is todayEnd of Sample…
Get Major O HERE.
Fake Marriage with My Friend
*This is an exclusive short I wrote just for you, I hope you enjoy it! – R.R.
Chapter One
Veronica
It's a beautiful October day in Southern California – the kind of day that reminds me of why I moved out here in the first place. The sun is out but there's a cool ocean breeze carrying the scent of the ocean. New York – where I grew up – had its own charms, but I actually feel like this is where I'm supposed to be. Much to my mother's chagrin.
The weather isn't the only reason I bailed out of New York, but it certainly helps. No, I needed to leave some things in that past – where they belong – and start fresh. For us. We needed a new, blank page to start building our life on.
I look down at Justin, my five-year-old son, and can't help but smile. He's the light of my life. My world. There is literally nothing I would not do for my boy.
We're sitting on the patio of Oscar's, a quaint little cafe that sits just off PCH, giving us a view of the Huntington Beach pier and the Pacific Ocean. Brunch at Oscar's has been a tradition for a little while now – just me, Justin, and Caleb.
“What are you thinking about?” Caleb asks.
I take a sip of my mimosa and smile. “Just enjoying the day,” I say. “And a little quality time with my two favorite guys on the planet.”
Caleb raises his glass. “I'll drink to that.”
I giggle. “You'll drink to almost anything.”
He shrugs and gives me a grin. “Guilty as charged.”
“Is that good, sweetheart?” I ask.
He nods, smiling around the big piece of his chocolate chip pancake he had stuffed into his mouth. Justin makes some sort of grunting noise I can only interpret as an affirmative response to my question.
“Smaller bites next time, please,” I say. “You're a five-year-old boy, not a wild animal.”
“Experts say both groups have a lot in common though,” Caleb says and winks at Justin.
Caleb is my best friend. I met him shortly after I'd moved to California and we'd dated briefly. But the connection – that spark – just wasn't there between us. But we've been best friends ever since. I honestly cannot picture my life without him in it. I don't think I'd want to, to be perfectly blunt. He's my rock. My emotional support. When the whole world is falling apart around me, I know that Caleb will always be there to help me put it back together again, no questions asked.
“So, how did your date with little Miss Prom Queen go last night?” I ask. “Did you have her home before curfew?”
“Oh, you've got jokes this morning,” he chuckles.
I shrug. “When your best friend is dating a girl, who looks like she's in high school, the jokes kind of write themselves.”
“For your information,” he says. “She's a sophomore at UCLA. She's studying – something. I actually forgot her major.”
“Oh, she goes to an actual college. That's impressive,” I reply. “And here I thought if she wasn't still babysitting, she'd be in cosmetology school or an online college or something.”
“Lots and lots of jokes today,” he says.
“You'd be disappointed if I didn't give you a hard time.”
“This is true.”
“So?” I ask. “How did it go?”
He shrugs. “It was okay,” he replies. “Turns out she and I don't have a lot in common. Not a lot of chemistry there.”
“I could've told you that,” I say. “Other than looking amazing in a tight dress – and believe me, I'm jealous as hell of how she looks – there didn't seem to be a lot going on upstairs.”
He grins. “No, there really wasn't,” he says. “The conversation was less than lively. And you'd look just as great in that dress.”
I scoff at him. “Hardly.”
“It's true.”
The waitress comes by to check on us, refilling our mimosas and ruffled Justin's hair, making him giggle uncontrollably. She gives us a smile and leaves again.
“What about you?” Caleb asks.
“What about me?”
“When are you going to dip your toes back into the dating pool again?”
“Probably when this one goes away to a good college.”
I take a drink of my mimosa and look over at Justin, stroking his soft, dark hair. I'm glad to see that he took after me a bit more than the sad sack of an excuse for a father he has. Except for the eyes – Justin's steely-grey eyes are definitely his father's. They'll knock the girls dead, but they're a reminder to me of the terrible man I'd allowed myself to get wrapped up in.
But then, without that terrible man, I wouldn't have this little bundle of awesomeness in my life. Have to take the good with the bad, I guess. I just hate the idea of Justin getting old enough to start asking about his father. What am I supposed to say? As far as I know, his father – a scumbag named Glenn – is still doing time back in New York. Rikers or Sing Sing or someplace like that.
The only thing I know for sure is that I'm glad to be out of there and away from all of that. Once Glenn went inside, I'd made up my mind to pack my things and head for California. I needed a fresh start for me, but most of all, I needed to put as much distance as possible between my son and that scumbag Glenn. There is no way in hell I'm ever going to let Justin have anything to do with that man. Never.
“Come on, Veronica,” he says. “Don't you think it's time you get back on that horse? It's been how long since your last date?”
My laugh sounds a little more bitter than I intend. “I think the last date I went on was with you.”
“Exactly,” he says. “That was what, three years ago?”
I shrug. “Give or take.”
“You deserve to be happy. To have some fun,” he says and takes a sip of his mimosa.
Justin looks up at me with wide eyes and a smile stretched across his face, pancake crumbs clinging to his lips. I pick up a napkin and wipe them away.
“My life is all about this one right now,” I say, tweaking Justin's nose.
“And nobody's saying you have to give that up,” Caleb says. “But leaving a little room for you to enjoy your own life at the same time isn't a bad thing.”
I give him a soft smile. “Well, maybe if I find a good guy,
then I'll reconsider,” I say. “Until then though, all I need in my life is the both of you.”
Caleb smiles back at me. “And we're lucky to have you,” he says. “But I've got some friends who might interest you –”
“Jesus, Caleb,” I laugh. “You're starting to sound like my mother.”
“We both obviously just want the best for you and we're just afraid you're headed down the path to crazy cat lady status,” he says. “And we both apparently want to head that train off before it gets rolling. Or rather, rolling along any farther than it already has.”
I put my hand over Justin's eyes and shoot Caleb the finger, unable to suppress the smile. He laughs and shakes his head.
“Honestly, Veronica,” he says. “I just want to see you happy.”
“I am happy,” I reply. “I've got you and Justin here. What more do I need?”
“Honestly?” he asks. “You need to get laid. Maybe worse than anybody I've ever known.”
I burst out laughing and feel my cheeks burning – I have no doubt they're bright red.
“Oh my God, shut up,” I howl.
“Just making an honest observation.
Justin giggles along with me and I'm thankful he's too young to understand what Caleb just said. He wasn't wrong – it had been a hell of a long time since I'd been with a man. So long, in fact, that I'm pretty sure I'm a virgin again.
“I'm not even going to dignify that with a response,” I say, finally getting my laughter under control.
“Well, when you're ready,” he says, “let me know and I can set you up with a really good guy. Somebody who will treat you right.”
I raise my glass and tap it against his. “I'll do that.”
Chapter Two
“Have you found a boyfriend yet?”
I roll my eyes – my mother is relentless about me finding a boyfriend. “How is your book club, Mom?”
I'm rushing around the house, looking for my uniform – and not having a lot of luck. By day, I'm an administrative assistant for a small company. Which is just a fancier way of saying that I'm a secretary. I don't mind the menial office work, actually. I only wish it paid better. I make enough to keep the lights on, pay the rent, and put food on the table – but not much more than that.
Which is why I pick up shifts down at a sports bar called The Bullpen. Yeah, the uniform isn't the most dignified around – short black shorts, a tight black and white striped shirt, black ballcap, and black knee-high socks – I call it sexy referee chic. It's a feminist's nightmare, but the guys seem to like it well enough – I never fail to leave work with less than a hundred bucks in tips.
Which is why I don't mind the sexy referee chic and putting an extra little swish in my walk – with my hips and hourglass figure, I think I make it look damn good.
“Our book this month is terrible,” she says. “That damn Bridget Scalia picked one she knew I'd hate. That awful, vindictive bitch.”
“Well, you did kind of steal her man, Mom,” I say, laughing.
Though barely fifty-five, my mother currently resides in a nice senior community back in New York – and when I say nice, I mean nice. It's like its own little city inside that community. It's got its own stores, post office, entertainment complex, bowling alley – it even has its own movie theater. Hell, if I were old enough, I'd move in there too. You have to be fifty-five though, so I've got a few years yet.
But, if I thought I had drama in my life, it's nothing compared to what happens within the walls at the Whispering Grove Senior Community. It's amazing to me that people of their ages could be so – petty and vicious. But then, they've had a lifetime to perfect the art.
But my mother – I never expected her to get caught up in that. And I really never expected that my mother, of all people, would have stolen somebody's man.
“I did not steal her man,” my mother snapped. “Harold simply preferred my company to hers. And I don't blame him. That woman is not only a shrew, she's as dumb as a box of hammers. I can only imagine what trying to hold a conversation would have been like for Harold. He's a former English professor, you know.”
I laugh. “I know,” I say. “You told me. Several times, actually. But I'm glad you found somebody to spend some time with, Mom. Even if you did steal him from somebody else.”
“I did not –”
“I'm teasing you,” I laugh. “Settle down, Mom. It's just jokes.”
She huffs. “Not very funny ones.”
“Well, we can't all be professional comedians.”
“Speaking of men –”
Great. It always comes back to this. My mother is like a pit bull – once she gets her teeth into that bone, she doesn't let go. It's a conversation we have every time we talk and frankly, a conversation I'm more than a little tired of.
“Can we talk about this later, Mom?” I ask. “I'm running late for work.”
“I just worry about you and Justin, honey,” she says. “Out there all alone –”
“I've got friends. Good friends. We're not alone,” I say. “And Melinda is out here. She watches Justin for me all the time. So, we've got family too.”
“It's not the same,” she says. “You need companionship, honey. Adult male companionship. We all do.”
“Is that why you stole Harold from Bridget,” I say and laugh, desperately trying to divert the conversation.
“I didn't steal him,” she says. “But we're talking about you now, honey.”
“And I have to get to work.”
“You need a man in your life –”
I sigh, frustrated beyond belief. “I have a man in my life, Mom.”
“You do?” her voice immediately perks up. “What's his name?”
I rack my brain, desperately trying to come up with a name for my fictitious boyfriend. “Caleb,” I say. “My boyfriend's name is Caleb.”
“Boyfriend?” she says. “Why is this the first I'm hearing of him?”
“Because – I – I didn't want to mention it until I knew we were a serious thing.”
“Oh?” she asks. “And how serious is this thing?”
I glance at my watch and feel my anxiety shooting through the roof. I'm going to be late if I don't get her off the phone and get out the door soon – I've still got to drop Justin off at Melinda's before I go to work.
“Serious enough,” I say. “Look, Mom –”
“Are we talking marriage serious, honey?”
I sigh and feel like screaming. I can feel the seconds ticking away – and every second I continue to stand there, the later I'm going to be. My boss is completely anal-retentive and has a serious thing about punctuality – and I really need to keep this job.
“Yeah, Mom,” I say, trying to figure out the quickest way to get her off the phone. “He's already proposed and everything.”
The screech that followed would have burst my ear drums if I hadn't held the phone away from my head.
“Details,” my mother nearly screamed when she could finally breathe again. “I need details, honey.”
“I'd love to give you all the details, but I really need to get to work,” I say. “I'm going to be late.”
“Later then.”
“Sure thing.”
“Swear it?”
“Mom, seriously,” I say, exasperated. “I have to go.”
“Oh, fine,” she sighs. “But I expect a full story when we talk next. I want all the details, Veronica. I can't believe you've kept this secret from me this long.”
“Fine,” I say. “I'll tell you everything. Later. I have to go.”
“Love you, peanut,” she says, using the nickname she'd given me back when I was a kid.
“Love you too, Mom,” I say, smiling despite myself.
I click off the call and sigh loudly. What in the hell had I just done? It's bad enough that I'd made up a fictitious boyfriend – but making up a fictitious fiancé is ten times worse. A hundred times. I want to scream and pull my hair out. My mother has me so wrappe
d up in knots about this whole needing a boyfriend thing that I'd just made my life a thousand times harder than it needs to be.
But, I don't have time to dwell on it. I need to drop Justin off and get to work so a crowd of drunk, horny men can ogle my ass all night.
It's not glamorous, but it pays the bills.
Chapter Three
“You did what?” he asks.
I look at Caleb sheepishly and feel my cheeks flush with heat. I had him over for dinner a few days after telling my mother about my fake fiancé. Justin is sitting in my lap, squirming around. He looks up at me with those stunning eyes of his.
“Go play, mama?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
I give him a smile and set him on the floor, watching him toddle off to play with his toys. I hear him go into the living room and start to pull out his Legos. I cringe at the sound of hundreds of pieces of plastic cascading down on the hardwood floor.
“Yeah, you're going to want to watch where you step,” I say. “Stepping on those things hurts like a bitch. Trust me on that.”
He takes a sip of his beer and sets the glass back down on the table. “So, you and I are engaged, huh?”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “She put me on the spot and I didn't know what else to say.”
He shrugs, still chuckling. “I can think of worse things.”
“Yeah, like having to deal with my mother.”
Caleb is still chuckling to himself when he gets up and starts to clear the table and I wave him off.
“Leave it,” I say. “I'll get to those later.”
He shakes his head. “You cook, I clean,” I say. “That's the deal. That's always been the deal. You just sit down, relax, and enjoy your beer.”
I smile and shake my head. “You know, when we get married and all, I expect this little arrangement to continue,” I say. “That little ring legally makes you my maid.”
“Yeah, you wish.”
I step into the kitchen and sit on the counter, holding my beer. It doesn't take him long to finish up the dishes and when he does, he leans against the counter next to me and plucks the bottle from my hand, and takes a long swallow.