The Boyfriend Swap

by Meredith Schorr

  Expecting him to roll his eyes, shake his head, or at the very least release a chuckle, I was completely taken aback when, not taking his stare off my parents, he uttered the words “They’re awesome” instead.

  Their “awesomeness” lasted about halfway through our first course when my mom looked pointedly across the kitchen table at me and Will before saying, “I think I speak for all of us when I ask how this happened.” She wiggled her finger at Will and me.

  Her question didn’t take me by surprise since it had been asked whenever I brought a new guy home to meet my parents. This time was only different because I never had to lie before and because…well, because the “new” man in my life was Will freakin’ Brady. “It’s a funny story,” I said just as Will responded, “Kind of a funny story.” We glanced at each other and laughed until Will urged me to take the floor.

  “I went to a party thrown by Anne Marie’s boss a few weeks ago and Will was there. We got to catching up and hit it off.” I smiled shyly at Will, unsuccessfully fighting the blush prickling beneath my skin. We had agreed on the ride up to keep the tale as simple as possible to avoid tripping ourselves up on small details. I wished I could blame my discomfort on my poor acting skills, but it was so much more. I had no doubt my mother was about to unearth something better left in my teenage diary.

  Sidney

  “Wow. How rich are your parents?” Perry asked in awe, his eyes wide, mouth slack as he took in my parents’ estate from within the four doors of my Audi.

  After parking my car on the spacious paved driveway, leaving enough room for other cars to get in and out, I unlocked the doors and stepped outside. Stretching my arms over my head, I replied, “Pretty effin’ wealthy.” Bellows and Burke was one of the most profitable law firms in the country and the only one of significant size to avoid layoffs after the market crash of 2008. That was before my time at the firm, but my father mentioned it often. The success of the firm coupled with the “old money” handed down on my mother’s side meant finances were not one of my family’s problems.

  Perry exited the car after me, still transfixed by the house. “Wow,” he repeated while running his fingers back and forth through his hair. “It looks like the mansion in Dynasty.”

  I jerked my head back. “How old are you, Perry?”

  “Twenty-five. Why?” he asked, flipping his duffle bag over his shoulder.

  “Because Dynasty was before your time.”

  “I watch a lot of old shows for inspiration. John Forsyth was the man.”

  I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. If Perry was dumbstruck by the front exterior of the house, wait until he saw the inside. And the pool and tennis court in the back. I’d called it my home from the age of thirteen until I moved out permanently after graduating law school, but seeing the imposing Venetian-style house through his eyes, I could understand his reaction. “Do you want to come inside or would you rather we set up a tent for you out here?” I asked, partially amused but mostly annoyed by his paralysis.

  “Huh?” Perry said, finally tearing his eyes away from the house to look at me.

  I pointed toward the front door. “Shall we?”

  He shrugged. “I’m ready when you are.”

  I opened the front door and called out, “Anyone home?”

  “I’m surprised we don’t hear an echo,” Perry said as he paced the stenciled hardwood floors of the entryway and glanced up at the sweeping staircase.

  “It should be traditional but not boring, and please go easy on the wreaths,” my mom said to a girl around my age who was furiously scribbling notes on a clipboard.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, figuring she was too deep in decoration-mode to notice her only child standing there.

  My mom finally looked our way. “Sid, dear. You’re here.”

  “My mother is the queen of stating the obvious,” I said to Perry before making more formal introductions.

  “Why don’t you take a walk-through and jot down some ideas?” my mom said to the girl. “We can discuss them after I get my daughter and her boyfriend settled in.” After the girl scurried away, my mom smiled at Perry and me. “Let’s go to the sitting room, have a drink, and get to know each other. You can leave your bags here for now.”

  When Perry whispered, “Sitting room?” I nudged him, hoping he’d get a grip.

  As we followed my mom to the sitting room, she called out, “Harvey. Your daughter is here.” When he didn’t respond, she repeated, “Harvey. We’re in the sitting room” in a commanding voice.

  A few moments later, my dad joined us and bristled at my mother. “Have you forgotten I see our daughter every day at the office, Barbara?” Pecking my cheek, he said, “Good to see you again, Sid,” before facing Perry. “And you are?”

  Extending his hand, Perry said, “Perry Smith. Good to meet you.”

  Motioning to one of the two matching gray suede couches, my mom said, “Sit.”

  Perry and I sat side by side on one and my parents sat across from us on the other.

  His computer on his lap, my dad said, “I’ve been going through the Swift contract. Did you notice the discrepancy in the indemnity clause?”

  I glanced at my watch. “Under two minutes and he’s off,” I said, with a knowing look at Perry, who was too busy gawking at the partitioned wood ceiling to catch it.

  “Forget work, Harvey. I want to know how these two met,” my mom said, clapping her hands together.

  My dad snorted and shut his laptop. “Fine. How’d you meet this one?” he asked gruffly before taking a slow sip of brandy.

  I placed my gin and tonic on the dark wood coffee table. “He was my waiter at Carmines and slipped his phone number onto my bill.” Raising my palms up, I said, “And here we are.”

  “Here we are,” my dad repeated, looking as unimpressed as I’d hoped he would.

  “It was a little more involved than that, Mr. and Mrs. Bellows.” Taking my hand, Perry said, “Shall we tell them the whole story?”

  I blinked. The whole story?

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Cherry Bomb.”

  Choking on her Pimm’s, my mom parroted, “Cherry Bomb?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” I asked with a laugh, followed by a warning look at Perry that screamed, “Drop it now.” Perry might have fallen asleep before I could tell him how we supposedly met, but it was at Carmines—final answer.

  Patting my thigh, Perry said, “Cherry here…” He laughed. “I call her Cherry Bomb because of her gorgeous red hair and her explosive personality.” He turned to me and, ignoring my horrified expression, continued his ridiculous story. “Your daughter saw me act in the Off Broadway production of Sheer Madness. Impressed by my performance…” He chuckled. “…or maybe it was my biceps—my part was too small to really display my acting chops—she stayed after to get my autograph. When she asked where else she could find me, I told her I worked part time as a waiter at Carmines.” Looking almost apologetic, he explained, “I’m the quintessential struggling artist, you see. I live in a rent-stabilized residence exclusively reserved for actors, but I need the extra income for the many other expenses involved in trying to get ahead.”

  Leaning forward in interest, my mom said, “For instance?” while even my father appeared mesmerized by Perry’s narrative.

  “I like to get new headshots twice a year, and trying to perfect my audition video for agents costs a pretty penny too. My manager is great, but an agent can take me to another level, you know?”

  My dad nodded. “Sure I do. We work with actors every day. Don’t we, Sid?”

  I opened and closed my mouth like a guppy. “Uh-huh,” I said as my head spun. How was this happening? My dad was supposed to hear the word “waiter” and promptly leave the room.

  “Anyway, I never expected to see Cherry here again.” Perry grinned at me. “So imagine my surpri
se when she showed up a few nights later at Carmines. She pretended it was a coincidence, and I let her think I believed her.” He kissed the top of my head.

  My mom downed the rest of her cocktail. “Unheard of. Our Sidney going to such lengths to meet a fellow?” The liquor clearly going to her head, she whooped, “I’ll be damned.”

  “I have that effect on women,” Perry said, draping his arms around me. As I stiffened against him, he squeezed me tighter.

  “I can’t wait to hear more about you over dinner,” my mom said before beaming at me. “I’m glad Sidney finally found someone worthy enough to bring home to her family. It’s been too long.”

  “I might be able to help you with that agent search. And we do creative agreements if you need legal representation,” my dad said.

  Perry smiled wide before whispering, “This is going well,” into my ear.

  All I could do in the presence of my parents was nod agreeably, but as far as I was concerned, things could not have gone worse if choreographed by Satan himself.

  Chapter 7

  Robyn

  “Remember when Jordon used to follow Will and the other older boys around the neighborhood? All the big boys with their multiple gear bikes and little Jordy on his one speed. Adorable.” My mom reached over and ruffled my brother’s thick head of wavy black hair.

  Shifting away from her, Jordy said, “I recall no such thing.”

  Pleased to mock my baby brother, I teased, “Poor scrawny Jordy.” He was three years younger than Will and had looked every one of those years when we were kids.

  “Not so scrawny anymore,” Jordy said, flexing his impressive muscles.

  “Seriously, dude,” Will said. “When did you get so big?”

  “As a certified personal trainer, it’s kind of my job.” With a sheepish smile, he said, “Plus, I was sick of getting my ass kicked at bars.”

  My mom turned her bright eyes on me. With a hand on her heart, she said, “And you.”

  I knew it was coming and my heart stopped. “Please don’t, Mom,” I begged.

  Dismissing my plea, she continued, “If someone told a teenage Robyn that one day Will Brady would be her boyfriend, she’d want to grow up immediately. Dreams really do come true.” Dabbing her eyes with a napkin dramatically, she said, “I think I might cry.”

  I could hear Will’s intake of breath and, feeling like I was pushed out of an airplane, I tightened my fist around my fork as if it were a parachute. Will was never supposed to know I had his senior picture in my hope chest along with Josh Duhamel’s and Johnny Depp’s. But as long as my mother exhibited enough diplomacy to describe my feelings for Will back then as your average teenage crush and not what it really was—a full-on obsession—I might survive it.

  “I’ll never forget the day Robyn ran into the house to announce a new family had moved a few doors down across the street. She must have only been about nine, because I still recall the way her pigtails bobbed up and down as she danced around the kitchen in glee because the boy in the family was so cute and looked to be around her age. I swear, from the day you moved in until the day you left for college, she talked about you nonstop.” She beamed at me. “And now, all these years later, you guys are dating. Better late than never, right?”

  My mother’s shocking admission on my behalf resulted in a deafening silence, and my beating heart threatened to explode inside my chest. I struggled to find my voice until I felt Will’s foot jab my leg under the table. I couldn’t look at him.

  “I honestly had no idea. It’s too bad because I always thought she was cute too. Better late than never, indeed.” His lips gently brushed against my cheek.

  He was a typical attorney—quick on his feet—and it was sweet of him to play along, but I still couldn’t face him. I stared down at my plate of cucumber and tomato salad, waiting for my body temperature to return to normal.

  “Remember how jealous you were of his girlfriend? What was her name?” my mom asked.

  “I don’t recall,” I mumbled. Of course I remembered Adrienne, the feisty redheaded cheerleader Will dated in high school for a couple of months. His taste hadn’t changed much.

  “Adrienne,” Will said.

  “Right, Adrienne!” my mom chirped.

  I looked frantically around the room for an escape route. My spot at the table was the farthest from the front door, and I’d have to squeeze past Will to get to the back patio. Realizing I was trapped in this hell, I scrutinized the remaining piece of tomato in my salad. Such a vibrant shade of red. Almost too pretty to eat.

  “I think you might have been the last guy Robyn crushed on before her silly infatuation with actors and musicians began, but if anyone could make her do away with her stubborn insistence on only dating people with SAG cards, it would be you,” my mom said.

  I looked up from my plate. “Not everyone I’ve dated had a SAG card, Mom. What about Terry?”

  There was no recognition on my mom’s face. “Which one was Terry?”

  Answering for me, Jordy said, “The photographer.”

  “Speaking of Terry, what happened to Perry?” my dad asked.

  Time stopped for a beat as my mind went blank. I was so worried about creating a believable “meet cute” for me and Will that I forgot to come up with an explanation for ending things with Perry. “It didn’t work out,” I said plainly, only afterward realizing I wouldn’t be able to use the same excuse for Will.

  “Good riddance,” my mom said in unison with my dad.

  Will’s laugh quickly turned into a cough when I kicked him under the table.

  “How do you really feel?” I mumbled under my breath. My pulse raced, but I squashed the temptation to defend Perry. On the bright side, my folks’ harsh response served to minimize the guilt I felt over lying to them. Clearly, Perry was better off elsewhere. I wondered what they were doing right now and felt a pang of homesickness for my boyfriend. I hoped Sidney’s family was more welcoming towards him. If all went according to Sidney’s plan, her parents would barely acknowledge Perry’s existence. She was so lucky.

  Conversation blessedly shifted to another topic, and forty minutes later I had recovered, at least temporarily, from what would undoubtedly go down as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I just hoped Will wouldn’t mention it again when we were alone.

  After the table was cleared and the dishwasher was full, my mom leaned against the refrigerator and pointed at Will, who was still sitting at the table. “Did Robyn tell you about the Lane family tradition, Will?”

  “She has not.” He walked over to me and took my hand. “But clearly there are a lot of things your daughter hasn’t told me about. Right, Robyn?” Ignoring my fingernails digging into his palm, he kept his eyes on my mom. “Tell me about this tradition.”

  “Do you sing?” my mom asked.

  “If you can call it that,” I mumbled.

  Will drew me close to him and whispered, “Keep that up and I might cry.”

  Clearly thinking she had one over on me, my mom grinned. “A lawyer who sings. Imagine that. I told you so.”

  “Wait until you hear him, Mom.” I smiled teasingly at Will and he winked at me. With any luck, my parents’ discouragement of my dating choices would backfire after they did. They might even welcome Perry with wide open arms. Well, probably not Perry, but at least musical types in general.

  Sidney

  “What was that?” I hissed as Perry followed me to the guest room where he’d be sleeping. Thankfully, my parents were way too conservative to let my boyfriend sleep in the same room as me unless we were engaged. I’d shared a bed with far less attractive men than Perry—mostly during my wild and not very discerning stage after breaking things off with Jake—but I had no desire to spend more time in Perry’s company unless I was boinking him. After being in his company for the last three hours, I reckoned he
must be fabulous in bed for Robyn to put up with his enormous ego. Since I wasn’t to know, I wanted him as far away from me as possible after lights out. And he snored. I could not tolerate a bed partner who snored, even one who managed to do it in perfect pitch.

  “What was what?” Perry said, almost banging into me when I stopped at the room my mother reserved for him down the hall from mine.

  I glared at him before turning on the light. After he joined me inside, I closed the door behind us. “That bizarre story you concocted. About me asking for your autograph.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  Perry took in the room he’d call home for the next few nights. “It will do,” he said with a cheesy grin before sitting on the edge of the white four-poster full-sized bed and tapping his large feet against the black-stained hardwood floor.

  I bent down and picked a piece of lint off the gray and white spotted area rug before leaning against the antique dresser. “I’m so glad you approve. Now answer my question.”

  “What about it? Your parents totally bought it.”

  I clenched my fists. “So not the point. I had a story. They asked how we met and I responded. It was asked, answered, and done. Why’d you mess with it?”

  “Because your version was boring.” He yawned as if emphasizing his point.

  How he could still be tired after napping for half of the ride was beyond me. He’d never survive as a lawyer. “Not everything needs to be exciting.” Certainly not the origin of our fake relationship, which was supposed to be of no interest to my father whatsoever. “It’s too late now, but moving forward, follow my lead. Can you do that?”

  “Follow my lead,” he mimicked in an authoritative raspy female voice.

  “You follow my lead. Not the other way around,” I corrected. “And that sounds nothing like me.”

  “Whatever you say, Mrs. McAndrews,” he said with a laugh before flopping onto his back. “If you’re through with your lesson, I’m going to catch up on my beauty sleep. I worked until closing last night. Wake me up before dinner? Do I need to put on my Sunday best?”