Текст книги "Playing Pretend"

Автор книги: Juliana Haygert

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Five

Mason

I closed the box with tape, and then opened an empty one. I grabbed a few pants and shirts from my closet and threw them inside the box.

“You don’t need to go so soon, you know.” My mother leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed.

Her eyes were swollen. She had been crying since last evening, when I told my father and her about my transfer. But what was I supposed to do? I had been accepted to a great college on the East Coast, and with a good scholarship. Right now, my only focus was my structural engineering master degree and there was no way I wouldn’t accept it. Not when the other option was to stay here and be the same, do the same: go to the nearest college without a scholarship, work to pay my expensive tuition, and be worried about bumping into Tamara everywhere I went.

“I know.” I went to my closet and grabbed a few more things.

Though my classes began mid-August, I didn’t see the point in staying in town for the summer. I would only work the next three months and I could do that in Washington, D.C. Besides, it would be nice to get to know the city and make some friends before classes started.

“So you’ll just leave? You could wait until June. Just two more weeks until June. Please?”

I turned to her and tried to will my voice to be gentle. “Mom, you know I wouldn’t live in your house forever. I was planning on leaving anyway.” Not sure how I would have accomplished that, but still. I had wanted to move out for the longest time.

“Yes, but when you talked about it, it was still in town. I would probably see you every day.”

I sighed. “Again, Mom, you can’t expect me to always be around. I need to live my own life. Like you did. Didn’t you move away from your parents when you were about my age? And you never went back?”

She averted her eyes. “That’s different.”

I chuckled. “And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Because you’re my son. I was young and alone and trying to make my life.”

“And what I am?”

“Please, don’t act like you’re more mature than me. This is hard.”

I walked to her and embraced her. “I’ll always be your son, Mom, no matter where I go or what I do. I promise to call often, okay?”

“It won’t be the same.”

“I know.”

Stiffening, my mother pulled back. “I should go make dinner.” She left without looking at me again.

She descended the stairs in a rush and I shook my head. She was never good at hiding her emotions, but she was good at running away whenever the situation became too much for her to bear. It was her defense mechanism.

I went back to the boxes and packing. One more week of classes and research, then I would be gone. I was already looking for apartments and gigs around Washington. I couldn’t wait. Only thinking about it brought a certain lightness to me, as if I soon would be free.

I opened one of the dresser’s drawers and picked up my running and workout clothes. I found my running shoes under the bed and threw them in the box. Between finals, presentations, and packing this last week, I would be too busy to go to the gym. I would catch up after I found my new place in Washington.

I heard voices coming from my window. I leaned against the glass, watching as my mother cried, talking to my father. I glanced at my wristwatch. It was past six already. I had been so absorbed in packing and moving on, I hadn’t noticed time passing.

My father pulled my mother into his arms and embraced her. He ran his fingers through her hair and whispered in her ear. Such a sweet, carefree gesture. I had grown up seeing and admiring my parents’ love and affection. I was raised to think I would have that kind of relationship too. I thought I had found it with Tamara. Just to find out she cheated on me all the time.

I shuddered. Now, it was hard to believe that even my parents were truly happy together. Maybe it was appearance, pretend, so everyone would think that they were the perfect couple, but I knew it wasn’t. I knew I was just jealous of their near-perfect relationship and trying to come up with excuses to feel better.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that I was finally taking the necessary measures to recover. I was moving away from Tamara and all our memories that were cemented in this town—even though I had new ones, happy ones, with a mysterious girl. It had been two months since spring break, and each time I remembered Charlotte, I smiled.

Then I remembered she was gone and I had no idea who she really was. Anyway, I was moving on from both girls. I was going to immerse myself in my studies, I was going to find some gigs around the city to make some cash, and I would hook up with pretty girls without even thinking about serious relationships. I was sick of lies. If not getting involved was what I needed to do to never hurt again, then so be it. I was ready.

* * *

Mason

Since my mother couldn’t stop crying, she stayed home and Matt drove me to the airport. Brody wanted to come too, but he had some family event to attend.

Matt insisted on parking the car, coming inside with me, and waiting until it was time for me to pass the security check and board the airplane, but I wouldn’t do that to him. I wanted to just hop out of the car, go through the check-in, and wait by the gate.

Anxiety and dread danced in my chest as Matt stopped the car in front of the departure area. This was it. Me, starting anew. Making my own destiny. Living my own life, with my own devices.

We stepped out the car, and Matt helped me take my bags from the trunk. When my three bags were on the sidewalk, I extended my hand to my brother. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” He took my hand and shook it hard. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“You too. You can come visit me any time you want.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, as if I had money to pay for a ticket to D.C. any time I wanted.”

I shook my head. “Well, then you better starting saving some now.”

“I will,” he said, staring straight at me.

Leaving my little brother was harder than I thought. He had been my best friend since he was born, and because of our tight conditions, none of us had left home. We had stuck together, done everything together. Until now.

“Take care, Matt,” I said.

“You too. Go rock the world,” he joked.

Shaking my head, I picked up my bags and entered the check-in counter. I checked in, I got rid of my bags, I went through security, and sometime later, I boarded the plane.

When it took off, I looked down, to where I was born and raised, to the place I had never left my entire life. In a way, I would miss it, but I was ready.

I looked to the horizon, past my small town, past California, and took a deep breath.

To new beginnings.

* * *

Mason

I stared at the door of the apartment, then to the piece of newspaper in my hand. This was the one from the ad, all right. The building was dark and dirty, and the apartments’ doors were a sick, fading green. This one in particular was worse. The number six from sixteen had twisted down on its screw, the edges of the metal covered in rust.

Okay, it was bad, but I had gone to the others I had added to a list before coming to D.C. and none was good enough. The good ones were too expensive, and the cheap ones were crap. I just wanted to find a decent one, and this had to be it. I had been up and down all day and I was exhausted.

Holding my breath, I knocked on the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing a thin guy with round glasses and a joystick in his hand. “Can I help you?”

I showed him the newspaper. “I’m here because of the ad.”

“Oh, sweet. Come on in.” He retreated and let me in. “I’m David Brown.”

I told him my name and we shook hands.

Besides the outer part of the building, the apartment looked nice. It was small, but clean. A sitting area with a large TV and a Play Station 4, an adjacent kitchen, and down a small hallway, three doors: two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom.

“This one would be yours,” the guy said, opening the door to one of the bedrooms. It had a queen bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a tiny closet. Better than most I had seen. “I know it’s not much, but it’s probably the best you can get for this price range.”

I sat down on the mattress. Not too bad. “Yeah, it’s been a hard day.”

“I know. I’ve been there,” David said.

We walked back to the living room. I decided to talk to the guy, get to know him. He was in the first year of his masters of a chemical engineering degree, he worked in research at the university, and he liked to play video games and watch action movies. I told him about looking for a job until I started working at the university. Well, even so, I would probably need some extra work here and there.

“Bartending, huh?” David pulled two beers from the fridge and gave one to me. “There’s a bunch of clubs and bars and restaurants downtown. I’m sure if you go around, you’ll find plenty of jobs. Oh, and there are always plenty of events around the city. You should contact some catering companies. They’re always in need of extra hands.”

Hmm, that sounded promising. Much better than in my hometown, Nowhereville in Central California, which only had movement during spring break or summer.

I sat down my beer and grinned. “All right, man, I think I’m staying.”

* * *

Charlotte

“Oh my God, I’m gonna be late.” I groaned as I took out my roller skates and threw them in the trunk of my car. Thank God my mother never got close to my car, otherwise she would freak out and complain her daughter wasn’t the one she knew with those skates and the chalk and the paints.

Well, I wasn’t.

“Calm down.” Liana closed the trunk and handed my purse back. “If you don’t calm down, then you’re gonna be late.”

I slipped into my car. “Are you going back to Washington now?” When I couldn’t go to Washington for over two weeks because of my mother’s schedule, Liana came to Richmond so we could skate together. That was what true friends did for each other.

“I’ll probably stop by Starbucks first. After all, it’s Monday and that cutie is probably working.”

I shook my head. Liana had been flirting with a college guy who worked at Starbucks here in Richmond for ages. “It’s the last week of May, Liana. You don’t know if he already left for the summer.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” She winked. “We can’t be the only dorks who take a bunch of classes during summer, right?”

“We sure aren’t.” I smiled. “All right. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Your hands!” Liana said, a finger pointed to my hands around the wheel.

My gaze fell to my palms. They were multicolored with chalk dust. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”

“Wipe it on your seat before leaving the car. She won’t notice. You can take your car to wash later.” Liana glanced at her wristwatch. “Now go!”

I sped away, fighting the urge to bite my dirty nails. A little prayer surged in my mind, hoping my mother wouldn’t be home and see my hands like that. Oh, if my hands were like that, so were my knees. And possibly my shorts too.

Of course, my mother was home. We were supposed to leave for Washington in thirty minutes, for a fancy ball celebrating Memorial Day. Peyton McClain stood in front of the house, watching as her employees carried her luggage to the car.

To gain time, I parked the car in the back of the house and ran into the Executive Mansion through the kitchen.

Please, still be outside. Please, still be outside.

I reached the second floor when my mother called me. “Where were you?”

My heart stilled. Slowly, I turned to my mother, keeping my hands behind my back. “At Starbucks with Tracy.” I didn’t like lying to my mother.

“Oh, good. How is she?”

The tension in my shoulders melted away. “She’s fine. Her father is traveling on business so she drove here to meet with me. Beats being alone in her house.” That part wasn’t a lie. Tracy’s father was always traveling.

Her sharp eyes dropped to my shorts. “Are you ready to go?”

“I just need to change and pick up my bags.”

There was a moment of silence as those brown eyes examined me. I forgot how to breathe for a second, expecting my mother to find out all my secrets.

“Hurry.”

My mother walked out and I almost fell on the stairs.

Chapter Six

Charlotte

“You look beautiful,” Donnie said, wiping his glasses on a handkerchief, as I descended the front stairs of the hotel, holding the skirt of my long champagne gown up so as not to trip.

By my side, my mother held her light gray gown up on the stairs. Wearing neutral colors, we both looked elegant and formal, the way my mother liked.

I plastered a smile on my face and halted before the opened limo door. “Thanks.”

Elegant in a tuxedo, Donnie helped us both into the limo. The corners of his mouth looked like they would snap from his wide grin.

Why couldn’t I think he was handsome and good boyfriend material? Well, he certainly was cute and he could make a terrific boyfriend for someone in my position. Yet, my heart didn’t race each time he held my hand, and I couldn’t surrender the few times he leaned in to kiss me.

My mother held all attention during the short ride, hosting an enthusiastic discussion about politics with Donnie, who seemed happy about the subject.

I, though, fought against the rising discomfort in my stomach. The night would be long and boring.

Trying to calm my mind, I looked out the window to the streets of Washington. Two minutes and I regretted it—roller skaters rushed on the sidewalk and, a block ahead, we passed a gallery exhibiting charcoal drawings.

My distress grew once we emerged into the fancy ballroom and the swarm of mostly unknown faces closed in around us, greeting us and ushering us in.

My mother glided with grace and talked to everyone. Every single person in the huge room. One thing I couldn’t deny—my mother was an excellent people person. Except with her own daughter.

Donnie fell into the same dance, and I followed, as a proper date, though I kept my mind on the enormous crystal chandeliers, the large windows under heavy velvet curtains that led to outer balconies, and the beautifully arranged flowers on the tables.

If it depended on me, I would ditch Donnie and leave the party. Well, if it depended on me, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place, with a date I didn’t like or want to like, and strange people who I didn’t care about.

However, people wanted to talk to me too. Thanks to my mother, I was active and known in the political circle. Old and new faces approached me, wanting to know how I was, how school was, if Donnie and I would step up and assume our relationship, and to tell me they were thinking of my father today.

Donnie lunged into a heated conversation with a couple of senators and other politicians, forgetting about my presence for a minute. Enough time for me to take a breather.

I retreated a few steps, and then dashed to the other side of the ballroom, hoping to find some known and almost friendly faces to hide with.

With quick steps, I almost ran over a waiter in a white and black uniform.

“Sorry,” I mumbled to his back.

My heart leapt to my throat and then fell back into my chest, weighting like a dead stone. The waiter turned around, his eyes wide at my face.

“Charlotte,” Mason whispered.

The memories rushed into my mind, my cheeks warming.

Mason was here. Mason is here! My heart pounded against my ribs, so fast it almost hurt. Oh, I had missed him.

The noises of flutes clinking, heels on the floor, and the classical music brought me back, and I put my mask back on, one he didn’t know. “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes running up and down my fancy gown. “You’re one of them.”

Not a question. He wasn’t stupid, and a few seconds was enough to figure out I was one of them.

Swallowing my nervousness, I eyed sideways. No sign of my mother, but I couldn’t risk it. “Excuse me.”

In a haste, I walked around him, to one of the tall doors behind the heavy curtains, and onto one of the balconies. Unusually cold for May, a chilly breeze bit into my shoulders but I didn’t care. Long breaths of that air would calm me down.

Oh my God, Mason is here. Here! And he had seen me with this crowd.

My mind swam, fighting the enraged tide and failing. My body ached, longing for Mason. If I surrendered to it, I would run back inside the room and throw my arms around him in front of everyone.

Then my mother would freak and kill me.

No. I hadn’t been raised for that.

Slow, deep breaths.

I had been raised to go back in there, to put on a plastic smile, and to dance with Donnie as if Mason had never been in my life. But I couldn’t do that either. My only solution was to pretend to feel unwell and leave. I just hoped Donnie didn’t offer to accompany me to the hotel and stay.

First, I had to calm my racing heart. Slow, deep breaths. Slow, deep breaths. Slow, deep …

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mason’s voice sent my heart into a race again.

I whirled and found him near the closed door, standing tall with his hands inside his pant pockets, his gaze downcast.

Even with the waiter uniform, Mason looked as handsome as ever, as energetic and charming and determined as ever. He had combed his hair tonight, probably to look more professional, but a few strands had fallen over his hazel eyes. I wanted to reach over and fix those strands. No. I wanted to run both my hands through his hair and dishevel it, the way I liked it.

Heat crept up my cheeks and I pushed those thoughts away. “I didn’t think it mattered,” I answered, putting my hands behind my back, hoping it was enough to stop their shaking.

“So, what is it? Are you a politician? Is that why you’re here?”

I pressed my lips together, my mind concocting a lie. But why lie now? “My mother is the state governor. Peyton McClain. I came with her.”

His eyes widened for half a second before frowning. “The one everyone is betting will run for president in a few years?”

“She will run for president.”

“That’s big.”

“Yes, it is.”

A stare showdown began as I willed my heart to slow down. The crackling silence made my breathing shallow.

“What now?”

“What do you mean?”

Mason took a few steps into my direction. “Will you pretend you don’t know me?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and averted my eyes. “It’s for the best.”

“For whom?”

For my mother. Of course, I would never say that out loud. An edge of curiosity gnawed in my chest and I asked instead, “What are you doing here? How come you’re on the other side of the country?”

“I transferred grad schools here. I start in August.”

“But that’s in two, almost three months.”

“I just wanted to come.”

My eyes widened and a heavy feeling—like a stone dropping in my gut—robbed me of air. “You knew who I was, where I was from!”

Mason shook his head, taking a step toward me. “No. I swear I didn’t. This is a huge coincidence.”

“Coincidences aren’t welcome in my life.”

“Believe me; I’m as shocked as you are.”

He did sound surprised and somewhat glad too. This wasn’t right. Crap, Mason was now living close to me, and we met on the West Coast. Was it divine intervention? Should I spend some time thinking about its meaning?

No, no time to waste. In fact, I was stalling. I had to get back before someone noticed my absence.

“I need to go.” I walked around him, but Mason’s hand on my arm stopped me. Warmth spread from his skin to mine. Our eyes met and I gasped from the intensity of his gaze. I had forgotten how breathtaking he was.

“Do you have any idea how glad I am that I found you again?” He pulled me closer to him. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.” He leaned over me, his face close to mine.

The incredible scent of his aftershave—woody and spicy mixed with something else so manly and just his—wrapped around me. My head spun and I involuntarily lift my head toward him.

“Don’t do this,” I whispered.

“Why not?” Disappointment laced his words, but he let go of my arm.

I swallowed the excitement I felt over seeing him again and whispered, “You wouldn’t understand.”

With all my resolve and some more, I returned to the ballroom. I felt dizzy and nauseated. The heavy liquor and candle wax smell didn’t help one bit.

“There you are,” Donnie said, walking up to me.

“I was outside, getting some fresh air.” With the plastic smile on, I let Donnie put my hand on his arm. Without meaning to, I looked over my shoulder and saw Mason in the balcony door, his eyes on my date and me. “I’m not feeling well,” I said, glad I wasn’t lying.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that to you. I know what these kind of events mean to a politician.”

Donnie smile widened. “I’m glad to see you care. However, right now, I care about you more. Let’s take you to the hotel.”

I let Donnie guide me out. Now, I had about ten minutes to figure out an excuse to prevent him from staying with me.

* * *

Mason

I couldn’t just leave the ball as Charlotte had. No. I had to stay there, serving those pompous people and remembering she was one them. And who was that guy with her? Her boyfriend? Was he her boyfriend during spring break?

Shit, I wanted to hit something. Instead, when hidden in the kitchen, I drank one or two flutes of champagne, and took a deep breath.

I got back to my apartment at four in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep. I turned on my computer and googled Charlotte and her mother.

Thousands of pictures and articles popped up on the screen. Charlotte, from a young age, in several gowns and pencil skirts and shirts, with her hair pulled up and too much makeup. She was always smiling, as if she was as happy as anyone could be. I scrolled through pictures of her debutant ball, her first day in prep school, helping during her mother’s campaigns, and lots of gossip websites trying to match her with other rich guys.

I clicked on Wikipedia.

Charlotte Anne McClain (born December 18) is the daughter of George McClain and Peyton Sofia McClain. She attends the political science program at the University of Richmond, and intends to apply for law school afterward.

So, she was one of them!

Eager to find out more, I kept reading:

Charlotte was born and raised in Washington, D.C.

Her father, George McClain, was an admired soldier in the U.S. Army. After retiring, he joined the Republican Party and became mayor of Washington, D.C., soon after. He planned on running for the Senate. However, he was assassinated in a terrorist attack during an overseas military award ceremony months before the election.

Her mother, Peyton McClain, who had always been active during her husband’s campaign and political life, received his endorsement from the Republican Party. She’s the current governor of Virginia. Charlotte and her mother have lived in the Executive Manson in Richmond since the last election.

Charlotte was twelve when her father died. Since then, she has been raised by her conservative mother. Charlotte has training in classical ballet, piano and violin, horseback riding, and knows French, Spanish, and Italian fluently.

There are rumors that despite her near perfect education, Charlotte doesn’t plan to engage in a political career.

At the bottom of the page, there was a picture of Charlotte and a red-haired girl. They held hands and smiled widely. The caption read Charlotte McClain and her best friend, Tracy Graham.

Best friend? I thought Liana, MaryAnn, and Becca were Charlotte’s best friends. During those six days we spent together, she hadn’t mentioned Tracy, but she mentioned something about Liana, MaryAnn, and Becca being her real friends. Once more, I was reminded that I knew nothing about her.

I closed that page and ended up on the images search. A new photo popped up—one from a gossip website. Charlotte arriving at tonight’s ball, her arm linked with that guy I saw her with. The caption read Charlotte McClain and her date, Donnie Williams, son of Senator Williams—voted the future’s most powerful couple.

I punched the table.

She was smiling in that picture, looking straight at the camera.

Why then? She didn’t look as if she liked this life when she was in California with me.