Still regretting my unsolicited feedback, I grimaced until Will’s infectious laughter got the better of me and I joined in.
“And by the way, the answer to your question is no. I don’t think I have a good voice. Hopefully your parents won’t make me eat my dinner in the garage. I promise what I lack in singing skills, I more than make up for in showmanship.”
I smiled to myself. My parents were in for a show, all right.
Sidney
“Does this car have satellite radio?” Perry asked.
“This vehicle has everything,” I said, stroking the leather seat of my Glacier-white metallic Audi S7. Hard earned and well-deserved, the souped-up sedan was my twenty-eighth birthday present to myself. It didn’t get much action in the city since I relied so much on public transportation or car services to get around locally, but the anniversary of my birth was the perfect excuse to replace the reliable but less luxurious Toyota Prius I purchased during law school.
“Can we listen to it? Or I have some seriously good road trip tunes on my iPod.” Perry reached his muscled arms into the backseat and pulled his black duffle bag over to the front.
I frowned. “I really wanted to finish this audiobook. Buried Bones. Have you read it? It’s seriously dark.”
“I haven’t read it, but listening to it from the middle would spoil it for me, wouldn’t it?”
Staring him down, I said, “Be honest with me. You’re not going to read it, are you?”
Perry smiled sheepishly. “No.”
“Then there’s nothing to spoil.” I grinned. Logic won out every time.
Perry blinked his cobalt blue eyes at me. “Road trips are for singing, not reading.”
I sighed and opened my mouth to tell him it was my car, which made me the entertainment DJ, but then I remembered Perry was doing me a favor and decided to play nice. I was dying to know how the book ended, but it could wait. “Music it is. What do you want to listen to?” I shook my shoulders. A little car dancing might do my stressed-out body good. As long as it wasn’t hip-hop or country.
“I have some new Drake, but if you don’t like hip-hop, how about Rascal Flatts?”
Even though it was winter, I liked keeping the sunroof open when I drove, but the wind coming through flopped my bangs into my eyes. Brushing them out of the way so I could see the road, I said, “You have anything less genre specific?”
Perry scrunched his forehead. “You mean like pop?”
“I guess.”
His cheeks dimpled and he placed his iPod on the seat between us. “It’s all on here. Just skip anything you don’t want to hear.”
“Great. I’m not picky. You can man the music.” The first song came on—a silly boy band whose name escaped me. “Not this one,” I said.
“No problemo.” Perry tapped his device and grinned as the notes of another song played out of the stereo speakers.
“I hate her,” I said with a grimace.
Perry gaped at me. “How can you hate her? She’s a musical icon.”
I shrugged. “Not a fan.”
Rolling his eyes, Perry muttered, “No accounting for taste.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. How about this one?”
I pursed my lips. “Next.”
Perry’s eyes bugged out. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Raising an eyebrow, I said, “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
He sighed. “Not unless you’re pretending to be my eighth-grade history teacher, Mrs. McAndrews. She was mean, by the way, and never joked about anything.”
We sat in silence for a few moments while Perry tinkered with his device. “This is like the least offensive song I can think of.”
I listened as the first notes played. “Fine.” It wasn’t my favorite, but it would do.
“You sure?”
“Yes. I told you I’m not picky.”
Perry laughed. “No. You’re the most musically flexible woman I’ve ever met.”
I frowned. “Are you toying with me?”
“I would never toy with Mrs. McAndrews.”
The conversation halted for a while as Perry sang along to the music and I quickly decided I preferred his singing voice—a rusty whisper that reminded me of John Mayer—to listening to him speak. As traffic slowed down, I gazed out my window at the trees lining the sides of FDR Drive. Colorful fall foliage had given way to melting snow on bare branches.
“What kind of law do you practice?” he asked, breaking what I considered a contented silence.
“The kind I don’t like to discuss after hours.” Unlike my father, I avoided work-related dialogue unless I could bill my time.
Perry nodded. “Right. Is there anything you want to know about me, then?” He gave me a practiced smile as if I were one of the anchors on Extra asking who he was wearing on the red carpet.
Having discovered Perry’s last name really was Smith—either I was totes lucky or a fledging psychic—I’d already looked up his IMDb page which, aside from a teeth-whitening commercial, an appearance on Law and Order: SVU, and a few Off Broadway productions, was sparse. “Not really.” I paused. “Although we should probably discuss the game plan for this weekend.” The ride from the city into Northern Westchester where my parents lived in Scarsdale was only about an hour and we’d already been driving for twenty minutes.
He shrugged. “If you want.”
Amused by his nonchalance, I asked, “Don’t you want to know who else will be there so you can prepare?”
Turning up the volume on his iPod, he said, “I prefer to be surprised.”
If this was how he warmed up for auditions, it was no wonder his IMDb page was so unimpressive. “It would make me feel better if you didn’t go in cold,” I said over the music.
“I really need to practice my improvisational skills, if you don’t mind.”
A chill ran down my spine as I imagined Perry turning the entire weekend into an acting exercise. What if he adopted a British accent around my dad’s English friends to practice for a role in the BBC’s next Masterpiece Classic? I’d suggested Perry use the weekend as an opportunity to hone his talent to incite him to sign on. I meant it, but feared he’d lost sight of the big picture. “Like I said, you’ll have full access to our piano and I’m sure the guests will love hearing you sing. You have a great voice,” I said, figuring flattery was the way to this man’s heart.
Perry smiled knowingly.
I knew it. “But let’s focus on the real reason Will’s with Robyn and you’re with me this week.”
Perry groaned. “I forgot about Will. He’d better keep his hands on the right side of Snow White’s panties.”
“Ew.” I shook my head in disgust. “I’m sure our respective partners will behave. I keep Will very satisfied.” I’d made sure our last time together was super memorable just in case.
Perry gave me a sidelong glance and smirked. “If you say so.”
My mouth snapped open in response to the unexpected slight. My sex appeal had never been described as “understated.” “Will was right about you.” He didn’t like the way Perry spoke to Robyn, and I had to agree his filter was nonexistent.
“Yeah? What did he say?” he asked with a wide grin.
Clearly, he assumed whatever Will said was positive. I got the feeling you could insult this guy six ways to Sunday and he’d say “thank you.” Giving him a quick once-over as he absently pulled his fingers through his longish hair, I was taken aback by his blatant beauty. The gods of looks certainly didn’t hold back the day Perry was born. Too bad they were so stingy with his humility. Ignoring his question, I said, “Anyway, back to the reason you’re here.”
Perry yawned and raised a hand to his mouth. “Man, I’m beat. You mind if I take a nap?”
“Actually, we need to go over a few thi
ngs before we arrive at my parents’ house. For instance, how we met, how long we’ve been dating. Once we get initial introductions over with, they’ll leave us alone. And then we’ll keep telling new people the same story. I have a few thoughts. Are you ready?”
Silence.
“Perry?”
The only response I received was the sound of Perry snoring away as if the passenger seat of my car was his own personal Posturepedic.
Chapter 6
Robyn
After almost three hours of driving, we finally arrived in Bala Cynwyd—the residential community in the Philadelphia suburbs where Will and I both grew up. As we drove along City Avenue, Will moved his head from left to right as if taking in all the sights for the first time. Amused, I asked, “Has it changed much since the last time you were here?”
Will grinned wide. “Not even a little bit. Although I don’t think the LA Fitness was there nine years ago,” he said, pointing to the gym in the Bala Cynwyd Shopping Center.
“You haven’t been back at all since your family moved?”
Still gazing out the window, he said, “Nope. I never had a reason before.”
“You’re welcome then.”
Will turned and smirked at me. “Yes. I feel like I’ve won tickets to the Super Bowl. How can I ever repay you?”
“I think you already have,” I said sheepishly as jumping beans danced the jig in my belly. The last few hours of breezy conversation almost made me forget the real reason we’d taken this road trip together.
As a lump of guilt settled at the back of my throat for the lie I was about to tell my family, I thought about Perry. The last time he’d stayed over, my mom cut off his performance of “November Rain” because it was too long, but she let Jordy sing the equally verbose “Stairway to Heaven” in its entirety. Perry pouted for a few seconds before dancing to my mom’s rendition of “Hit the Beat Now”—the incident already forgotten. My memory was longer. With a pang of gratitude, I glanced at Will. “Thanks, by the way.”
Will cocked his head to the side. “For what?”
“For agreeing to this. Don’t think for a second the absurdity is lost on me.”
“You’re welcome. No one, except maybe Santa Claus, should be as stressed out on Christmas as you and Sid were. As long as you realize it’s a temporary fix to a problem that won’t go away by itself.” He chuckled. “Unless you plan to invite me to all of your holiday dinners from now on.”
“What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?” I joked before quickly turning my own gaze out the window to hide the blanket of red that crept across my cheeks. Why couldn’t I have gone with President’s Day? Thankfully, Will didn’t comment.
“I’ll have to meet the big bad Harvey Bellows eventually, but for now, if the only gift my girlfriend wants for Christmas is my blessing to let some other dude play her boyfriend for a few days, I’ll play along.” He sighed loudly and faced the window. “How did I get myself into this mess?”
I swallowed my weight in remorse and whispered, “I’m sorry, Will.”
As if remembering he wasn’t alone in the car, Will swung his head in my direction. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’m happy to do it.” He smiled gently.
I grinned back even though I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“You game to meet up with some of our old classmates while we’re here?” he asked.
“Absolutely. James is around too.” My spirits soared at the thought of seeing my best friend since the third grade. He lived in California now, so we only saw each other a couple times a year.
“You guys still close?”
I nodded. “He’s my forever friend.” Even at eight years old, James was comfortable enough in his skin to enjoy predominantly girly activities. While most boys in my class either ignored me or pulled tendrils of my unruly curls when the teacher wasn’t looking, James and I spent every recess perfecting the Macarena, Humpty dance, jiggy, tootsie roll, rump shaker, and more.
“Nice. It would be great to see him.”
I imagined James’s reaction to seeing me with my new “boyfriend.” After he verbally spanked me for not calling him the night Perry and I met up with Sidney and Will for the first time, he would die. I chuckled, wondering how long he would buy the charade. I estimated less than a minute.
“Want to let me in on the joke?” Will asked.
“We’re here,” I said, pulling up to my childhood home. Saved by the driveway. With shaky hands, I turned off the car and removed the keys from the ignition.
A couple minutes later, we were out of the cold and nice and warm inside my parents’ heated house. My mom greeted Will with enthusiasm while I averted eye contact by hiding behind Will’s and my jackets and racing to the hall closet.
When my mom asked, “How did the two of you hook up after all these years?” my heart beat frantically. I’d never pull this off. I color-coordinated all the coats to keep myself occupied until Will excused himself to use the bathroom. The last thing he said before we got out of the car was, “I really need to use the bathroom.” I knew it was coming. Any second now.
“We’ll tell you everything you want to know, Mrs. Lane, but do you mind if I use the bathroom first? Your daughter refused to stop for a pee break.”
“Hey,” I called out, my head still inside the closet. “We both agreed we could hold it.”
“Go on. It’s—”
“No worries, Mrs. Lane. I know where it is,” Will said. “My house growing up was exactly the same, remember?”
My mom laughed. “Oh, yeah.”
As soon as I heard Will’s footsteps get farther away, I took a deep breath and turned to face my mom. I could feel her blue eyes boring a hole in my back.
The instant we made eye contact, she threw her arms around me and whispered, “Will Brady?” into my ear as I inhaled the familiar floral scent of her dark chocolate-brown hair, regularly highlighted to cover the gray.
I whispered back, “Surprise.” Then I pulled away and gave her a sheepish grin. Usually, the scent of garlic from my mom’s roasted chicken made my mouth water, but the guilt-and-anxiety cocktail I was drinking rid me of an appetite.
Her mouth was slack. “How did that happen?”
Before I could respond, my father entered the hallway. “My girl’s home.”
“Hi, Dad,” I said, reaching out to embrace him.
“Guess who her date is?” My mom bounced on her toes like a teenager instead of a woman approaching fifty. She could probably recite verbatim every word I’d exchanged with Will in my life up until now because I ran home from school and told her—the words spilling out of me until my cheeks turned blue from forgetting to breathe. Knowing her glee was based on a lie stung my insides.
My dad scratched the small soul patch he’d sported my entire life. “It’s not Perry?”
My mother interrupted, “No. It’s Will—”
As Will joined us, I said, “You remember Will Brady, right, Dad?”
Rendered temporarily speechless, my dad’s blue eyes opened wide before he recovered. “Of course I do. Blast from the past,” he said, patting Will on the back. Even my dad knew if given a choice between one night of passion with Will Brady or Brad Pitt, I’d have picked Will, and he used to threaten to invite the entire Brady family over for dinner for a sing-a-long whenever I misbehaved or whined too much.
“And we’re all hanging out in the hallway because?” Jordon asked, before biting into the Klondike Bar he was holding. Spotting Will, he did a double take. “Will Brady. What’s up, man?”
“Hey, Jordy,” Will said with a smile before shaking his free hand.
“Why are you eating ice cream, Jordy? Dinner’s almost ready,” my mom said.
Poor Will—trapped in a twenty-square-foot space with the crazy Lanes. What must he be thinking? I reluctantly glanced at him and op
ened my eyes wide in silent apology. Seemingly unfettered, he motioned to my parents. “Thanks so much for inviting me to your home. It’s great to be back in the ’hood.”
While they reminisced, I excused myself to the bathroom and prayed Will wouldn’t refer to me as Sidney by accident while I was gone.
By the time I got out of the bathroom, my father, Jordy, and Will had relocated to the family room while my mother finished up making dinner in the kitchen. When she turned down my offer to help, claiming she was almost done, I poured myself a glass of red wine and sat down next to Will on the couch. “Everything good here?”
“Perfect.” He took a sip of his own wine and clasped his free hand with mine as Jordy studied us with blatant curiosity from his favorite reclining chair. My dad danced over to my mom, who had joined us, and she placed her glass of wine on the coffee table before moving her hips in perfect rhythm with his. They were both completely unself-conscious about their audience as they danced together.
Will observed them with a small upturn of his lips. Then he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “What are we listening to?”
“‘Spring Love.’ Don’t you just love Stevie B?” I asked with the best poker face I could adopt given the proximity of Will’s mouth to my ear and his thumb absently stroking mine.
Will nodded. “My absolute favorite,” he deadpanned, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. Shaking his head in what I assumed was astonishment, he said, “Were your parents always so…?” He let his voice drop off, leaving me to guess the end of his statement.
I turned away from Will to watch my parents dance together under the gold contemporary-style ceiling lamps of their family room the same as they would beneath the laser lights at The Limelight circa 1985. “Always.” My parents were nothing like the moms and dads of my friends growing up, but they were my family and their eccentricities were what made them unique. If it made Will uncomfortable, so be it—one of the reasons I gravitated toward creative types: they tended to be less judgmental of my parents’ quirks.
The Boyfriend Swap Page 8