Totally Folked

by Penny Reid

  I waited for him to bring his eyes back to me before I continued. “But I agreed to this. I need to end it responsibly and thoughtfully. If Harrison had fallen in love with someone last year, while we were faking our relationship, I would hope that he would’ve felt the same and given me a chance to have some input on how it ended.”

  “I understand that. In this situation, being Harrison for the next few months will be difficult and awkward,” he said, truly seeming to empathize with Harrison.

  I mean, he really seemed to understand what Harrison’s perspective might be, and that gave me pause. “I appreciate you being so understanding about this.” I heard some bewilderment leach into my voice.

  Jackson quirked a half smile at my tone. “Let’s just say, I’ve been in his shoes before.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.” His smile grew, turned into a shy one. “My ex-fiancée Zora Leffersbee was never my fiancée.”

  Flinching back, my mouth dropped open. “Are you—are you serious?”

  “Yep. She and I were—are—good friends, and we never dated. We don’t talk as much as we used to, now that’s she’s off with the love of her life, but we had a similar arrangement to yours and Harrison’s. Except, instead of doing it for attention and publicity, we did it to avoid the attention of our families and their constant questions about our personal lives.” He chuckled.

  “Huh.” I sat back, contemplating this change in what I thought I knew about Jackson James. “So . . . you didn’t love her?”

  “As a friend, absolutely. As more than a friend, no.”

  I don’t know why, so don’t ask me why, but this information felt momentous, like a huge relief. It also left me feeling ashamed. I’d been jealous of this woman and judged her, a person I’d never met, because I thought Jackson had loved her and she’d left him. I’d been hugely curious, but I hadn’t wanted to bring her up to anyone—not Sienna, not Jethro, not Charlotte, and definitely not Jackson. I didn’t want to listen to Jackson talk about a lost love. I’d wanted to pretend she didn’t exist, that he never loved her.

  And now it turned out he’d never loved her.

  “Sorry I didn’t mention it before,” he said, rousing me from my confusing thoughts.

  “No, no. It’s okay.” Now that I knew the truth, all the curiosity I’d been pushing from my mind erupted into an avalanche of questions. “Zora wanted out of the agreement?”

  “Yes. She’s a health outcomes researcher, and her family are friends with mine. We’ve known each other forever. They kept pestering her about settling down and getting married, much worse than mine. So one of us offered—I forget who—and we talked through it. It made sense, we got along so well. She wanted to focus on her career without being asked whether she had a boyfriend, or why she was still single, or being told she needed to adjust her work-life balance.” Jackson made a face here, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling of the car. “I have similar issues.”

  “Similar issues?”

  “People telling me I work too much, or too hard. Folks like to comment on the food I eat, how much I exercise, how many of my days off I spend at the station, following up on a case or working through lower priority complaints.”

  I nodded, remembering what Charlotte had said about Jackson, that he only ate boring food and that he worked all the time.

  “But I like what I do,” he said matter-of-factly. “I love it, actually. I like that I can draw a straight line between what I do and making a difference. I like that I solve problems and, hopefully, make this part of the world better and safer for folks. Maybe I’m boring, but I figure someone has to be, you know?”

  Warm affection and admiration surged through me, and I leaned forward to press a kiss on his lips, also placing a hand on his knee. “I don’t think you’re boring,” I said, sliding my hand up his thigh.

  He didn’t catch it or stop me, but rather opened his legs for my touch and returned my kiss with a hotter, more demanding one. And when his warm palm settled on my knee, following a similar path up my thigh, I decided to tell Dave to take a detour back to the carriage house.

  Before I could enact this genius plan, I felt the car slow, turn, and jostle. We’d already arrived back to Sienna’s. I groaned.

  Jackson grinned, lifting his mouth from mine and kissing my jaw. “Call me when he leaves.”

  “You’ll come over?” I linked my fingers behind his neck, encouraging his kisses. We still had a few seconds, I wanted his mouth on my body. Then again, I always want his mouth on my body. Nothing new about that.

  But Jackson wanting to come over was new. We hadn’t been together (other than making out at his place on Thursday) since the boat. I ached for him.

  “I’ll come over when he leaves.” Jackson leaned back and pulled the hem of my skirt back over my knees. “I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

  “And you’ll stay the night? All night?” My arms were still around his neck, I couldn’t seem to bring myself to let him go.

  “I have to get up early for work, but I’ll stay the night if you want.”

  “I do want!” I kissed him again, this time a quick, hard press of my mouth.

  He grinned, undoing his seatbelt. “Come on, then. The sooner you deal with your fake fiancé, the sooner we can be real friendly.”

  Oh. I liked the sound of that.

  Chapter 25

  *Raquel*

  “Rest satisfied with doing well, and leave others to talk of you as they please.”

  Pythagoras

  Jackson was as much a gentleman with Harrison as he was with everyone. As I reflected on it—watching the two men shake hands and exchange pleasantries—I tried to recall a moment or a person with which Jackson hadn’t been patient.

  His sister. I smiled softly at the memory of the two of them at dinner, teasing each other. I decided his sister didn’t count. He didn’t need to be self-contained or controlled with her. He could let loose, say what he thought, and just be himself.

  You. My smile widened. There had been a few times during these almost two months when Jackson had abandoned politeness with me. I hadn’t minded.

  But other than with his family and with me, I couldn’t think of another instance. Even when I’d first arrived in Green Valley and he’d been covered in pie, being filmed by a stranger, he’d been polite with the man. Firm, but polite.

  Same thing when I’d overheard his phone call at the station—with the reverend, about the neighbor’s prizewinning roses—he’d been firm, but polite. And not mean-polite, like he resented having to be polite, but truly polite, like he comprehended and appreciated the other person’s perspective, even though he didn’t fully agree with them.

  When four of his former flings had approached us on the day of the infamous picnic, or with Charlotte after. He’d been visibly frustrated, but he’d always been polite.

  “So. That’s the guy.”

  Presently, Harrison stood at my shoulder, and we both watched Jackson drive away in his truck, the taillights winding down Sienna’s driveway toward the main road.

  “Yes. That’s the guy,” Dave said, hovering at my other shoulder. “And we like him a lot. A. Lot.”

  “And he’s hot,” Miguel chimed in around a mouthful of popcorn. He stood next to Dave. “Don’t ruin this for us, Harrison.”

  I nodded, saying nothing, because they really had no idea how hot Jackson was, which suited me perfectly well.

  “You made popcorn? Are you expecting a show?” Dave asked Miguel.

  Meanwhile, Harrison placed an arm over my shoulder and whispered, “But he’s not as hot as me.”

  “That’s debatable,” Miguel tossed back at Harrison, apparently overhearing his comment. Then both Dave and Miguel turned toward the main house, continuing to bicker about popcorn, with Miguel giving Dave a shove. “What? I wanted popcorn. Stop commenting on my food.”

  I smiled, watching my guards for a moment before realizing they were heading in the wrong directi
on. “Hey, where are you going?”

  “Sienna said to come over so you and Harrison can talk,” Dave said, turning to walk backward. “But you only get an hour and then we have to kick him out. Jethro’s orders.”

  I glanced at Harrison, to see how he felt about this arrangement. His face—which I used to think of as devastatingly handsome—was scrunched in a frown. I thought he must’ve been irritated at the time limit, but then he called after them, “It’s not debatable to anyone with eyes, Miguel.”

  Without turning, Miguel said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He then added something else on a mumble that I didn’t hear as the two guards made it to Sienna’s front porch.

  Still frowning, Harrison faced me, his arm dropping from my shoulders. “But he is hot,” he said, the statement sounding like a concession. “I thought maybe he was just photogenic.”

  I firmed my lips so I wouldn’t smile. “Nope.”

  “Hmm.” Harrison inspected me, making no attempt to conceal his trademark swaggery grin. He had a very alluring grin—boyish and yet wolfish at the same time. “You look good, Rae. Rested.”

  “Thank you, Harrison. I feel good and rested.”

  He tilted his head to the side, indicating to the carriage house. “We should go inside before we’re eaten alive. I think I’ve already been bitten twice. How do you stand all the bugs here?”

  I stepped forward to lead the way. “I use this substance called insect repellant. Have you heard of it? You can now buy it in stores, anyone can get it.”

  “Ha ha. Domino warned me you were back to your old self.”

  “Oh? Did he?”

  “Yes. He said you were cracking jokes and laying down the law every time you two talked this month.”

  Good. Domino, smart and talented at his job, had obviously prepared Harrison for what to expect. I wasn’t a pushover anymore, allowing others to treat me like a commodity. I made my own decisions.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, closing the door behind us and walking toward the kitchen. I checked the clock above the stove. With any luck, I’d be able to convince Harrison to see things my way, we’d hammer out the beginning of a plan, and he’d leave before midnight.

  Then, Jackson friendly times!

  “No, thanks. Let me text my driver, let him know to come back and wait outside until we’re done.”

  I grabbed a water glass for myself and filled it at the fridge, debating how best to hurry this along.

  “This guy, he’s a policeman?” Harrison asked distractedly.

  “He’s a sheriff’s deputy. But you’re not here because of Jackson.” I turned to find that Harrison had followed me into the kitchen. He stood on the other side of the island, eschewing a stool in favor of standing, his phone already tucked away.

  “I love his name, Jackson. It’s a good name.” Harrison rubbed his clean-shaven chin, the entirety of his attention now on me. I used to find his eyes—which were pure turquoise—unsettling. Now, they were just Harrison. “Do you think I should grow a beard?”

  “I don’t know. I imagine you’re tired?”

  “I am tired. I’ve been traveling all day.” His gaze swept down and then up my body, perhaps taking note of my slouchy, sleepy posture. “Should I come back tomorrow?”

  “No. Let’s talk this through now, then you can get back to LA.”

  “Fine.” He braced his feet apart, his expression carefully bored. “I know you want to call it off.”

  “Okay.” Good. Glad that’s out of the way. “But?”

  “But I want you to consider the wedding during production of Midnight Lady one more time.”

  “No.” I didn’t add that, unless the script reverted to its original state, I didn’t want the part anymore.

  “Just, listen.” He lifted his hands, palms out. “Think about it. We could do the wedding shoot, the whole nine, staring into each other’s eyes. The tux, the white dress. That shit will blow up everywhere. We can sell the first photo rights for major cash, donate the money.”

  “I’m not marrying you.” I took a sip from my water glass.

  Unsurprisingly, he continued as though I hadn’t spoken, “And then, two months later, messy divorce. You move out, reconcile with your hot guy here if you want, if you think that works for your goals and won’t hurt your image too much. Meanwhile, I’m heartbroken, you’re the one that got away. I’m this dark, brooding, sexy, sensitive loner who can’t get over the loss of his soul mate. They’ll let me play Batman after that.” He bit his lip, grinning and wagging his eyebrows. “I’ve always wanted a rubber suit.”

  Despite myself, I laughed. “Harrison—”

  “Come on, Rae.” He came around the island to settle his hands on my shoulders, giving me his most beseeching, smoldering stare. “You know you want to.”

  “I definitely don’t want to.” I shook his hands off. “I’m not even a little bit tempted.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because just the thought of pretending again makes me want to throw up.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “Seriously. It makes me sick, what you and I did these last four years—and for what?”

  “Free publicity? Great movie roles? A place in history as one of Hollywood’s most epic love stories?”

  “I’m done.” Even now, thinking about it, my stomach soured. “The answer is no. We separate now. I promise to make everything before right now continue to look real, I promise I’ll keep this secret forever, but it’s over today.”

  He sighed, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and studying me for several seconds, his stare turning hard. “So, what? You’re with this guy? This police guy?”

  “Yes. Because it’s the truth.” I drank another sip of water.

  His eyes searched mine, imploring me to rethink my decision. “Isn’t it so much safer to just keep pretending? No one can hurt you if they don’t really know you, Rae.”

  Typical Harrison.

  “No. You have it wrong. No one can hurt me if I know myself.” I managed a small smile. “So no more pretending.”.

  Face grumpy, eyes narrowed, Harrison made a disgruntled sound, the line of his mouth flat and severe. “And there is nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” Crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze turned frosty. “Then I guess we have to talk about how to extract me from this in a believable way.”

  “I guess we do.” I nodded.

  “I have another plan, and it means we end things now, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “Go ahead, what’s the plan?” I asked, trying not to feel guilty, or like I was abandoning him to walk this road on his own.

  “Lina reached out to me,” he said, scrutinizing my expression.

  Irritation flared in my chest at the mention of her name. “Oh?”

  “Yes. After the pictures of you and Jackson—man, that is a great name—after the pictures of you two leaving that boat surfaced. She wanted to make sure I was okay.”

  I braced myself for what I suspected was coming next. “Oh, no. You didn’t.”

  Harrison lifted his eyebrows. “I did.”

  I set my water cup on the island, placing a hand over my stomach. “So now you’re with Lina?”

  “That’s the new plan, if you won’t agree to my old one.”

  Ugh. “Does she know it’s all for show?” I might’ve cut her out of my life, but that didn’t mean I wanted her being used.

  “Yes. She was the one to suggest we keep things camera-official, but open otherwise. And she wants me to lobby for her to get the role in Midnight Lady back.”

  I nodded, feeling helpless and sad for some reason. I didn’t want Harrison, I didn’t want to fake it and pretend for publicity, I didn’t want to be friends with Lina, I didn’t want to play that character anymore, so why did I feel this way?

  “So, let me guess, you and Lina are going to film the movie, get married, and so forth.
You’re plugging her into my part.”

  “The part you don’t want because you are in love with your man, Jackson. Correct.”

  I no longer felt guilty for abandoning Harrison to walk this road alone. I should’ve known better, I wasn’t irreplaceable. In Hollywood, everyone and everything is interchangeable.

  Harrison left at 11:30 PM. He seemed fine with the new plan, neither happy nor unhappy nor resigned to it. I wasn’t particularly happy, but we’d reached an agreement, and now it was settled and done. Domino, Harrison, and I would talk through the final details when I returned to LA so facts could be spun into career gold, which would then be mined for our mutual benefit. If possible.

  I found I didn’t have much energy left to care about whether my career suffered, which I assumed it would. Or perhaps I did care but pondering the decline of everything I’d worked for depressed me. I wanted to stop pretending, stop cultivating a façade. I wanted to live an authentic life. Uncertainty and risk were the price. Maybe people would accept the real Raquel, maybe they wouldn’t. Only time would tell.

  As soon as Harrison walked out the door, I texted Jackson to come over and then hopped in the shower. I needed to wash off the stress and sadness before he arrived. One byproduct of Harrison’s visit—intended or not—was the reminder that I would be returning to Los Angeles at some point soon. My summer here in Green Valley was coming to an end. Jackson and I hadn’t yet discussed what would come after.

  Turning off the faucet, I thought I heard a sound coming from the bedroom, and I frowned. Dave and Miguel weren’t due back for another fifteen or twenty minutes at least, and it seemed highly unlikely that Jackson would already be here.

  Except, no. . .

  A cold chill raced down my spine, and I strained my ears, holding my breath and berating myself for not turning on the alarm. Shit. Shit. Shit. Sh—

  Another sound, like a closet door sliding open, sent terror clawing up my throat. Someone was in my room, and I didn’t think it was Dave or Miguel, they had no reason to be in my room. And I knew it couldn’t be Jackson, he couldn’t get in, he didn’t have a key. I eyed the bathroom door and the flimsy, twist lock on the knob. It wasn’t locked. But even if it had been, a hard kick to the door would send it flying open.