Backstage: A Fake Marriage Romance, page 11
“It’s not too late to pull out”, Ryan says, “I still haven’t unpacked.”
I shake my head. “Are you kidding? I already told you I’m not going to change my mind, it’s just—. I’m not nervous, it’s how I get before a performance. Before it was just between you and me, but now it’s out there, it’s definitely real. It’s exciting.”
“My heart’s beating too”, Ryan confesses. “It’s normal. It’s not every day that you try and convince everyone that you know that your fake relationship is a real one.”
My phone buzzes again and I scroll down to the comments section. “It’s Alice”, I say, tilting the screen so Ryan can see as well.
“I knew it!” Ryan reads out, “so happy for you guys. Smiley face, winky face, heart, heart, heart. That’s good of her”, he says. “I’ll have to get Alex to do the same.”
I still have the phone in my hand when it rings, and it gives me such a shock I almost drop it.
“Fuck”, I say. “It’s my parents. What do I do?”
Ryan shrugs. “You could answer it?”
“And tell them what?”
I look at the still ringing phone in despair. They couldn’t know, could they? I mean, how could they know?
“Tell them you’re getting married to a doctor”, Ryan says. “Or just ignore it and come with me to the city clerk's office to get our marriage licence.”
I let the call ring out.
”They’re going to have to know at some point”, Ryan says plainly.
“I’m just a little bit terrified of my parents”, I admit, almost apologetically. “I will tell them, but only when it’s too late for them to do anything about it.”
Ryan takes my hand. “They can’t do anything about it anyway, it’s your choice remember.”
“I know”, I say. “I’ve just got a weird dysfunctional relationship with them, that’s all, and it stresses me out.”
“It’s alright, my parents are just as bad, don’t worry about it. There’s not all that much reason to tell them anyway to be honest, if you don’t want to, except it probably looks better for our claim. By the way, the fact that telling your parents you’re getting married stresses you out more than actually getting married makes me feel very happy that I have you.”
I smile. “Is that weird?” I say.
Ryan shakes his head. “Not at all.”
I shift my thoughts away from my parents and onto the task ahead. “You can bring more stuff if you want, there’s plenty of space in the wardrobe.”
Ryan looks down at the suitcase and the hastily packed rucksack he’s brought with him. “Compared to what I’ve been used to over the last week, this is way more than I need right now. I’ll bring the lorry load of man’s things when we finally get our outrageous house.”
“Will it have a dance floor and built in jacuzzi?” I ask, as Ryan puts his arm around me and guides me to the living room.
“And gymnasium, and private cinema, and helipad for our private helicopter.”
“You know I’m not used to such lavish riches”, I say, more entertained by dreaming big than actually living it.
“Don’t tell dear aunt Caroline that”, Ryan says, “she might come back from the grave and ask for her money back.”
We’re in the living room, hand in hand facing each other.
“We might as well just drop in on the way to the theatre”, Ryan says.
“Just to see what they need”, I add, not that I haven’t looked at it all already.
“Get it out of the way.” Ryan’s smile makes heat rise through my chest again.
“Get onto the matrimony”, I say.
“Kids, arguments, bitter resentment.”
“I was thinking more of extended holidays in the caribbean.”
“That sounds way better”, Ryan says. “Let’s stick with that.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
“Remember”, I point out. “As soon as we get out there, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. I’ll expect attention, romantic gestures and all of my meals paid for.” I smile, reach up and kiss him on the cheek. “And absolutely no looking at other women.”
Ryan pulls me into him and this time he’s the one that kisses me: a series of light sensual smacks that climb up my neck, dot the edge of my mouth and finish perfectly against my lips. “I don’t need anyone else now that I’ve got you”, he says, one word sewed between each kiss so the sentence comes out staggered.
We look at each other and for the first time in all of the time we’ve been together I see it, and then before I have a chance to make sure I’m not dreaming, it’s already gone again.
“Ready?” Ryan asks me, his acting face squarely on now.
I nod.
“Then let’s go and find out how to get married.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan
I can’t believe this is happening. For all intents and purposes, Sophia and I are in a fully committed relationship with each other. We get to share the same bed, we get to give each other the kind of attention boyfriends and girlfriends would be expected to give each other in public, neither of us is allowed to see anyone else, and we’re sealing the whole thing officially.
In the eyes of everyone else, this relationship is completely real, which makes me wonder how much of a leap we’d have to take now to make that true. I know the agreement we have is purely for business purposes, but I wonder how long it will take for the definition between fake and real to dissolve completely. The only thing keeping this from actually being entirely real is the way we’ve chosen to define this according to the way each of us thinks the other feels, and definitions are always open to reinterpretation.
Even if Sophia doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do about her right now, there is every chance she might do in the future, and until then, I’m going to enjoy every single minute of our time in each other’s company, especially out here in public, where our singular aim is to convince everyone else we are a couple.
That means hand holding, bum squeezing, spontaneous hugs, secret kisses, neck and shoulder massages, and all of the other thousand and one things I’ve been dreaming about doing since we first met. Seriously, I feel like I’ve won the lottery right now, without even thinking about the inheritance money that this is all for. I would be happy like this for the rest of my life without receiving a penny, if we got to carry on at home what we’re practising right now in the street.
“Just tell me if it’s too much”, I say to Sophia as we make our way to the city clerk's office, her hand hot in mine.
Sophia gives me a smile. “In less than an hour you’ve already become the most affectionate boyfriend I’ve ever had”, she says.
“If I’m overacting”, I say, “tell me. I’m just acting naturally. I mean, this is how I would act if I were about to marry the one.”
“I’m kidding”, Sophia says. “I like it. I especially like it when you wrap your arm around me like this—.”She takes my arm and wraps it around her shoulder, pressing herself against my chest and wrapping her own arm around my back underneath my jacket. “It’s harder to walk, but it makes me feel protected.”
I kiss her on the head and tighten my grip. She smells of vanilla and coconut and I have to kiss her again.
“And this?” I say, lowering my hand to rest it on her bum cheek.
“That’s good from time to time”, Sophia says, as I give her bum a squeeze. “We can do that when it looks like we think nobody is watching but we actually know that they are. You squeezing my bum, us kissing with tongues, me sitting provocatively in your lap on park benches like we’re fifteen again.”
I watch either a memory or a fantasy sparkle across Sophia’s eyes, pull her into me and kiss her passionately on the lips.
“What was that for?” she asks.
I shrug. “Nothing”, I say with a smile. “Because I love you.”
“I love you too”, Sophia says. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone else in my life.”
There is a very brief moment in which I can’t tell whether she’s acting or not, where I wonder if what I’m seeing in her eyes and hearing in her voice is actually true, or whether I’m just making it up because I want to hear it, before she smiles and wrinkles up her nose and says, “that’s good.”
“You felt it, huh?!” I ask.
“I think you’re getting better at this”, Sophia says. “You almost had me fooled.”
“And you, me.”
“Marshall’s lucky to have us.”
I kiss her again, leaving my lips to linger a little longer on hers this time, just because I feel like it. “We’re here”, I say, her silk brown chocolate eyes looking up at me with what could easily be interpreted as raw desire. If Sophia wasn’t such a brilliant actress, I’d be in no doubt to as what that look meant but because she is, I can’t risk thinking it’s anything other than a fantastic performance.
“Pop quiz hotshot”, Sophia says excitedly.
“Go.”
“Birthday?”
“You’re a capricorn, fourth of january.”
Sophia smiles widely while I feel her hand squeeze mine. “Film?”
“Amelie, because you have a girl crush on Audrey Tautou.”
Her eyes sparkle excitedly. “Family?”
“One sister, one brother. Your brother lives in London and is a techno geek, your sister you don’t see much, and she’s a doctor.”
“You’re good at this”, Sophia confesses.
I play it cool, fold up my collar and put on as best a James Dean accent as I can. “I don’t know if you know this baby, but It’s my job.”
Sophia giggles in the way that makes my whole body throb with desire for her. She leans into me, her hand on my chest to whisper something in my ear.
“Position?” she says and steps away smirking like a mischievous schoolgirl.
I put my hands behind my back, turn slightly sideways onto her, look behind me, look down to the ground and then look at her, my smile about as wide as a watermelon slice.
“Missionary?” I guess, and Sophia can’t help but laugh.
“No”, she says, shaking her head.
“That’s the only one I know”, I say.
Sophia takes one look either side of her and then steps towards me. “Reverse cowgirl”, she says about as seductively as you can make those words, “It’ll blow your mind.”
My eyes going wide and my voice getting caught in my throat are not part of my performance, but then again little of this is. She said, it’ll blow my mind and I can’t help but think she did that for a reason. It will in the future blow my mind, not anyone else’s.
“That sounds way more interesting than missionary”, I confess, my voice almost breaking.
“It’s best after we’ve both pleasured each other for a while”, Sophia says. “That way we’re both already on the edge. I’ve never come as hard as I have doing reverse cowgirl, not even with missionary.”
I realize I’m not saying anything, partly because I’m concentrating hard not to get an erection, partly because I think I might have already failed and the last thing I want is for Sophia to spot it.
“Blue, Seven, thirteenth of August, Forest Whitaker”, Sophia says eventually and I feel like I can finally breathe again. “Did I miss anything?”
I shake my head. “Spot on.”
“Awesome”, she says. “Shall we go in?”
“Yes”, I say, taking her hand again and pretending to take control, even though my heart's still beating at about the speed of sound.
We make our way through the entrance doors, past security and up to the reception desk.
“We’d like to get married please”, Sophia says brightly to the miserable looking attendant.
“Do you have a licence?” she asks us.
Sophia shakes her head. The attendant picks up a form from the desk in front of her and passes it to Sophia. “Fill that out”, she says. “Did you bring ID?”
“Yes”, Sophia says, “I have my passport.”
“Both of you?” the attendant says, looking at me suspiciously.
I nod.
“Fill it out, make sure there aren’t any mistakes and take it to the marriage bureau. It’ll be thirty five dollars and you’ll be able to get married tomorrow.”
“What happens if there are mistakes?” Sophia asks.
“You’ll just have to do it again”, the lady says plainly. “I presume you brought a pen?”
“We’ve got a pen”, I say.
“Good. End of the corridor, door on the right. If you have any more questions, they’ll be able to help you in there.” She gives us one more suspicious look before adding, “good luck”, and calling the next couple in line to the desk.
We make our way to the marriage bureau, which sounds like something out of 1984, but in reality is just a room with a bunch of chairs and another miserable looking lady at a desk in the corner. There are several people in here already filling out one form or another, who look up and smile at us as we find a pair of empty chairs.
The form is relatively straightforward. All it asks for is name, address, date of birth, social security number, and has a section which we both have to sign to declare that there is nothing impeding us from getting married. When Sophia has filled out her section, I fill out mine and we both sign the form at the bottom, ticking the boxes that are relevant to our situation. I thought there might be some special section for Sophia to fill in because she’s not American, or some ridiculous hoops she needed to jump through, or a series of specific forms just for her, but it’s way simpler than that. Unless we’ve fucked up on a universal scale, this is even easier than getting a cell phone contract.
Once we are done, we’ve checked that there aren’t any mistakes, and we’ve both had a laugh at the photos on our respective identifications, we take the form and our ID up to the counter.
“Sophia Grace Moreaux and Ryan Carter Speed?” the attendant asks us.
Sophia takes hold of my hand and squeezes. “That’s us”, she says, leaning over the desk.
The attendant takes our identification, scrutinizes Sophia’s much longer than mine and then eventually hands them back. “How long have you been together?” she asks, her beady eyes addressing us over the rim of her glasses.
Sophia and I look at each other. I know position, film, favorite actress and family history but I have no idea when we actually officially got together, and I think Sophia sees it because she’s the one that takes control.
“Men are awful with dates”, she says. “We were chatting online for a while before I came to the States. I tell Ryan I came here to study, but he doesn’t know the real reason is because of him. We ended up being cast in the same play together, you might have seen the adverts, it’s a small production called Redemption and we just kind of hit it off properly then.”
The attendant looks at Sophia and then looks at me as though she might have just found both of us on the bottom of her shoe. “I haven’t been to the theatre for about a million years”, she says, before an awkward silence hits us like a wall. Seriously, no-one says anything for what feels like a ridiculous amount of time before eventually, after God knows what test she’s just put us under finishes, she finally says, “Cash or card?”
“Cash”, I say quickly, my wallet practically leaping out of my pocket in case she says no. She counts it as meticulously as she scrutinized Sophia’s passport, before eventually it appears she’s happy. “Take a seat, I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“That’s it?” Sophia asks.
“That’s it”, the attendant says plainly. “After lunch tomorrow you can come back, join the queue, get married and live happily ever after.”
I don’t expect her to smile, and when she does it feels like her whole face is going to break. Sophia and I make a beeline for the seats as quickly as possible.
“That’s it?” she says again, perhaps a little confused the whole process hasn’t been harder.
“That’s the first step, darling”, I tell her. “We get the marriage licence and then we have sixty days to use it.”
Sophia puts her hand on my leg and squeezes my thigh. “I like it when you call me darling.”
I get the impression that she’s either had a shitty run of boyfriends before, or she’s just met assholes that haven’t treated her right. “How about sweetie?”
“That too”, Sophia says. “Darling, sweetie, honey, baby, gorgeous, hot, naughty, sexy, I’m happy with all of those.”
“When should we tell Marshall?” I say, the thought suddenly occuring to me.
“He’s going to find out today that we’re an item, because I’m going to tell Tracy, and we’re going to be unable to keep our hands off each other”, Sophia says. “Maybe we should wait until the play is finally finished to tell him we’re actually married.”
“I don’t think it matters too much”, I say. “If we can get some kind of story out about our relationship I think it’s enough. Marshall doesn’t need to know that we’re getting married, all he needs to know is that we’re crazy in love with each other, and if we tell him it happened because of him, he’s just the kind of person to admit to seeing it coming all along.”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “Absolutely”, she says. “That’s so Marshall. He’ll not only take full responsibility for us getting together, he’ll pretend he knew all along it was happening under his nose.”
“It’s fine”, I say. “It’ll totally work in our favor. Marshall’s just the kind of person to want to sell us to the world as well. If you think Tracy’s got a big mouth, Marshall’s like a megaphone compared to her, and he’s got all the right contacts to spread the news around like the latest viral cat video.”
“I have to find out about my visa”, Sophia says. “The sooner I get that sorted, the better for us both.”
“What about work?” I ask. “You got anything lined up?”
Sophia shakes her head. “Despite all the amazing reviews we’re getting, I haven’t had a single call.”
“Something will turn up.”
Sophia rests her head on my shoulder and runs her hand along my thigh a little closer to the bulge of my dick than I think she intends. “Something already has”, she says, smiling up at me.
