Faking It (The Making It Series)

by Christina Ross

  “Tell him to come inside and meet us at the restaurant.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  With a confused shake of his head, he squinted at his phone, turned it on, and started to text something, but God only knows what that was—or how coherent it would be. Why hadn’t they given me Austin’s number? I should be the one texting him, not Jackson.

  I’d already told our server that I wasn’t feeling well—and had paid the bill with my nearly maxed-out credit card. Thank God I had enough room left on it, because even though we were leaving early without finishing our meals, I’d nevertheless been asked to pay the full price for the tasting menu as well as our cocktails, which had cost me over a grand.

  But at least we were getting out of here, which was nothing short of grand. Given Jackson’s drunken, emotional state, I couldn’t allow any of this to be mentioned in tomorrow’s news.

  His cell phone dinged, and he looked unsteadily at the screen.

  “Austin’s on his way up now.”

  “I need you to be as steady as you can for me,” I said before we stood up from the table. “Everyone in this restaurant is aware that you’re here tonight. They have their cell phones at the ready.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because when I paid the bill, I casually glanced around and saw that some of those phones are trained on us as I speak. I need you to take hold of my hand as you stand, I need you to stand right at my side when we leave, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get you out of this place without causing a scene.”

  But we weren’t lucky. Because when Jackson stood, he wavered a bit on his feet before his eyes crossed and he pitched forward. He slammed onto the table and took it down with him as I rushed back. Everyone looking on gave a collective gasp.

  I heard Jackson’s name being mentioned all around me.

  And since I was acutely aware that photos and videos were being taken of us, I instinctively said—in a voice everyone around us could hear—“It’s food poisoning—that oyster made you sick!”

  Immediately, our server was at our side, helping me get Jackson to his feet, which was a sad state of affairs if there ever was one. Jackson had become a wobbling drunk who was so deep in the tank that he’d become his own horror show.

  “It’s clearly food poisoning,” I said out loud, knowing this moment would inevitably be posted on YouTube. And when it was, I wanted people to wonder whether Jackson was drunk or if an oyster had made him so sick. “It was the shellfish,” I said as I seized his arm. “You said it didn’t taste right. You said it was off. We need to get you home.”

  He glanced at me. “Get me out of here before I throw up.”

  With every ounce of strength I could muster, I led him out of Per Se as people looked on in a mixture of excitement, disbelief, and horror. When I saw Austin waiting for us as we left the restaurant, he rushed toward us, which was a great relief to me.

  “He’s drunk,” I said to him beneath my breath. “I tried to keep the booze at bay, but apparently this one does what he wants.”

  “He’s used to getting his way,” Austin said quietly to me. “Let’s get him to the limousine.”

  “Are the paparazzi waiting for us?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “Then, let’s hurry, because tonight has been a disaster.”

  “Define ‘disaster,’” Jackson said as we urged him toward the escalator.

  “Trust me, you’ll find out in the morning.”

  And then I realized that the fallout about to come also awaited me, and this incensed me.

  Is this how it was going to be with him for the next eight months? If so, what would being with him do to my own career, especially since I was legally bound to him?

  I hadn’t entered into this agreement thinking I’d be saddled with a drunk, so what did that mean for me? Did I have a way out of this contract? I didn’t know. I hadn’t read the damned thing, which I fucking should have. But Harper knew the details, and she’d be hearing from me first thing tomorrow about whether or not I was obligated to stay in this fake relationship. At the very least, knowing Harper, I knew she was going to be furious that this had happened. Whatever she was going to say to Mimi in the morning—when this shit show officially became a public circus—was going to be substantial.

  Worry about it tomorrow, I thought, meeting Austin’s gaze as we held on to Jackson and helped him down the escalator. Right now, we need to get out of here and into that limo as quickly as possible.

  “Sorry,” Jackson said as we continued our descent. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean for that to happen. Didn’t mean to get wasted and shit…”

  With the alcohol now fully threading through him, he was becoming a weight I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold up even with Austin’s help.

  “Austin,” I said to him, “he’s getting too heavy for me.”

  “We’re almost there,” he said. “Just one more flight to go, and then we’ll get him across the lobby and into the car.”

  “People photographed us in the restaurant,” I said. “When he stood up, he tipped over the damn table and fell on top of it on the floor. There were people videoing us when that happened. You and I both know that’s about to go viral, even if I did say aloud that he had food poisoning.”

  “You did?” he said to me in surprise.

  “Of course I did,” I said. “I said it for the millions of people who will soon witness Jackson in all his glory on YouTube. I mean, what else could I do? We ate raw oysters—it was the first thing that came into my mind. I decided to blame his behavior on that instead of the booze.”

  “You might have just saved his ass,” he said. “You should get a bonus for that.”

  “Please suggest one for me.”

  “I’ll give you a bonus,” Jackson said. “Because I got it like that. Austin? Get my checkbook for me, OK? Get me my checkbook and…shit. I don’t even know where my checkbook is, because who writes checks anymore? But if you can find it for me, I’ll write a check to Sienna that’s so big, she’ll forgive me. Just you watch.”

  “Here’s what you’re going to do, Jackson,” Austin said in a firm, controlling voice that rendered Jackson silent. “You’re going to shut up, pull yourself together, do as I say, and help us get you into the car. Got it?”

  “All right…”

  When we reached the lobby, Austin turned to me.

  “The car is still running,” he said as Jackson’s head lifted and dipped between us. “There are people outside, but I don’t see any paps. Before they arrive in anticipation of your leaving tonight, we need to get this one into that car as fast as possible. Are you with me?”

  “Do you really think I’m going to bail on you now?”

  “Some might have, but you haven’t,” he said. “And that speaks volumes for you, Sienna. I’m sorry about this. Obviously this week has been more difficult on him than any of us knew.”

  When he said that to me, we looked at each other for a moment, and I could sense a kind of shift between us. We were in the process of managing something that never should have happened, and we both knew that we’d never get through it without one another. Right now, to help Jackson through this, I needed to have Austin’s back—but to put this nightmare behind us, he also needed mine.

  And we both knew it.

  “I’m with you,” I said. “But how do we do this so it doesn’t look like we’re dragging him out of here?”

  “We’re about to create a blur,” he said.

  “A what?”

  “The car is just outside those doors,” he said, nodding toward the exit that led to the street. “Here’s what I suggest. I’ll sweep him over my shoulder while you run ahead of me. When we’re outside, hurry to the car and open the back door so I can get him inside. When I do that, I need you to round the car and get inside, and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

  “I got a little bit ahead of the bottle,” Jackson slurred.

&nbs
p; “You did,” Austin said. “Yet again. Jackson, I’ve told you you can’t let this week keep eating away at you. It isn’t like you.”

  “And there I go again,” he said, “letting everyone down…”

  “Listen to me, Jackson. I’m going to swing you over my shoulder and get you into that limousine, OK?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Jackson said. “Over your shoulder? Seriously?”

  “Seriously. And when I do that, you are going to keep your head down so no one sees your face. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “And then we’ll get you home. Tomorrow, Mimi is going to have to manage the fallout, but she’ll do it, because that’s what she does best.”

  “I’ve been bad,” Jackson said.

  Exasperated, Austin looked at me.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Good. I’ll put him over my shoulder while you open the doors for us. Just as planned. Go!”

  I hurried toward the doors and opened them as Austin charged toward me with Jackson slung over his massive right shoulder, and then we were out and into the warm night air. As we rushed across the sidewalk, people looked oddly at us as I ran toward the limousine. I opened the back door just before Austin lowered Jackson to the ground and shoved him inside.

  “Now you,” he said.

  I rounded the car and got inside, Austin shut my door behind me, and then suddenly he was in the front seat and peeling away into traffic.

  “Jesus,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Sienna,” Austin said. “Thank you for your help.”

  I placed my hand against Jackson’s back to see if he was OK, but when I did, he just careened over onto his side and passed out.

  As angry as I was with him, I couldn’t help but feel for him. This week had been too much for him. First the scandal, then the fallout, and then the scheme to have a fake girlfriend. Despite the damage being with him tonight might have done to my own career, I nevertheless found myself stroking his back as we hurtled across the city, where Jackson had a penthouse apartment on Fifth in a high-rise that overlooked Central Park.

  “He’s out,” I said to Austin.

  “I see that,” he said. “Now, tell me—how are you?”

  “I’m upset,” I said. “And angry. And also sad that Jackson’s going through all this. Once it became clear to me that he was drinking too much, I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t have it. He just kept slinging back bourbon after bourbon while I encouraged him to eat bread and drink water. When I realized things were only going to get worse, I urged him to bail on dinner and call you to pick us up. Because at that point, Jackson got so loaded so quickly that the people around us started filming it, Austin. Mimi needs to know that.”

  “I’ll call her tonight,” he said. “I’ll tell her everything. And try not to worry about this, Sienna. Tonight is on him, not you. I plan to make that very clear to Mimi.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Now, listen—do you need me to help you get Jackson into his apartment?”

  “No,” he said. “I can do it.”

  “Are you sure? He’s pretty much dead weight right now.”

  A moment passed before he spoke. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, Sienna. I can manage on my own.”

  What have I gotten myself into?

  “All right. Well, while you’re taking him inside, I’ll just catch a cab and head home.”

  “That’s not happening,” he said.

  “Sorry?”

  “It’s in the contract.”

  “What’s in the contract?”

  “I’ve already told you,” he said. “I’m also here to protect you. And because of that, I’ll be taking you home myself. When we arrive at Jackson’s apartment, just wait for me in the car, and when I return, I’ll take you home.”

  I wanted this day behind me, and getting a cab on my own was the quickest way to make that happen. But as Austin looked at me in the rearview mirror, I knew I had to honor my contract. So, I just nodded at him as we roared across the city.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, after Austin had taken Jackson to his apartment, he returned to the car, which was double-parked just outside the building’s entrance.

  “Is he all right?” I asked when Austin stepped behind the wheel, turned off the hazard lights, and shut the door behind him.

  “Let’s just say he’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. But he’s in bed and safe, and that’s what matters. Thanks again for your help.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  He looked over his shoulder and out the rear window, waiting for an opening so he could cut into traffic. As he did, I admired his profile. I thought he had the most beautiful Romanesque nose—it was bold, strong, and masculine, with a prominent bridge that suited him. His lips, now pressed together as he judged the right moment to hit the gas, were full and sensuous, and I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

  And then I wondered why I was so drawn to him.

  It wasn’t just his looks, although they certainly helped. But because this was a city brimming with attractive men, I knew it had to be something more. What was it? Was it his quiet confidence that got to me? Or was it his clear devotion to Jackson that spoke to me—despite the lows that clearly came with that job? Or was it the way he’d looked at me when he’d massaged my feet and helped me into my shoes? His touch had been as gentle as it had been erotic. It had sent shivers through me, but I still had to wonder—was that because of him? Or was it because it had been the first time I’d allowed another man to touch me since I’d left Eric two years ago?

  When we cut into traffic, I glanced down at my watch and couldn’t believe it was only ten o’clock. My night out with Jackson Cruise had lasted all of two hours. Since Jackson was such a major celebrity, I knew it would only be a matter of time before somebody in that restaurant sold their video of him going down with that table to a member of the paparazzi. Worse, I knew in my gut that that video would dominate tomorrow’s news cycle.

  As Austin hooked a left back onto Fifth and we started heading downtown, I felt myself start to cool off as I considered how hard it must be for Jackson not to be able to be himself but have to live his life as a lie.

  It had to be hell for him, especially given the divisive culture in which we lived today, with neo-Nazis and white supremacists fearlessly rising up in ways that unnerved me. It broke my heart that if Jackson wanted to continue his career as an action star, he would probably have to hide his true self from the world. It was so unfair that it troubled me.

  Please let tomorrow not be as awful as I think it’s going to be for him, I thought to myself. Because when he wakes up to this mess, he’s going to feel shaken and vulnerable. I have the privilege of being a straight, white woman. I can handle whatever is said about me tomorrow. But I’m not so sure that Jackson can…

  “Would you like to talk?” Austin asked.

  I was so deep in thought that I was startled when he spoke.

  “I’m sorry?” I said.

  “Would you like to talk? Or would you rather keep thinking about what happened tonight? Because that’s what you’re doing, Sienna. I can see it on your face. You’re worried about Jackson. You’re worried about tomorrow’s news cycle. Why don’t you let me take your mind off all that—even if it’s just for a few moments?”

  “What would you like to talk about?” I asked.

  “Anything,” he said. “Given the kind of traffic I’m looking at right now, we’re in for at least a twenty-minute drive to get to your place. I’d hate to do it in silence, especially since I think you need a distraction as much as I do. So, let me ask the first question, because it’s really important to see where you stand on this particular issue.”

  “All right,” I said as I looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Which issue?”

  “Are you’re a Yankees or a Mets fan?”

  I smiled when he said
that, because after the hell of tonight, I knew he was making an effort to lighten the mood.

  “Yankees,” I said. “I hope that doesn’t offend—”

  “Hell, no!” he said. “Total Yankees fan here. Been one my entire life.”

  “Your entire life? Did you grow up here?”

  “Born and raised in the Bronx.”

  “And yet I don’t hear an accent,” I remarked.

  “That’s because my grandmother beat it out of me.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Because she was born and raised in England and always hated the Bronx accent. Since she and my grandfather lived next door to us when I was growing up, she took it upon herself to become my dialect coach. Apparently she thought that if I didn’t speak ‘properly,’ it would be harder for me to succeed in life.”

  “Well, Austin, I have to say that’s one of the stranger stories I’ve heard in a while.”

  “It’s pretty messed up,” he said with a laugh. “But that’s my grandmother. So, how about you? Where are you from?”

  “Guess.”

  “California?”

  “More like Dubuque, Iowa.”

  “Dubuque? So, who scrubbed you of your accent?”

  “That would be acting classes, where my accent also was stripped from me.”

  “How did you fall into acting?”

  “Long story.”

  “Give it to me long, or give it to me short.”

  “Let’s go for the short version,” I said with a smile.

  “Fine by me.”

  “Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to perform on Broadway, which is the reason I moved to Manhattan. Unfortunately, no work came my way until a friend scored me a meeting with Harper, who took me on as a model, not an actress. She knew I wanted to act, but she also knew that I needed to eat. So, the whole modeling thing happened. When I wasn’t modeling, I was studying acting. Seven long years later and with only a few minor roles coming my way, I was about to give up on my dream when last year I landed the lead role in Lion. And then, this year, came Cannes. And then the award I received there. And then came Jackson. And now I’m in a limousine with you, driving down Fifth Avenue. My life has officially become surreal, Austin.”