Fake It For Me, page 12
“You did a better job than you give yourself credit for,” Sandy assured him. “It wasn’t even until much later that I realized who Nick was, and who you were. When we started going out on dates, I insisted on paying for things just…you know…as a matter of principle. I didn’t want people saying certain things.”
“Of course,” Dad nodded.
I was so shocked my mouth was slightly ajar. Not because Sandy was saying these nice things about me, but because it was all lies. We’d met in high school, true enough, but when we had, my reputation as a lady-killer had been well-earned and well-deserved. I hadn’t been sweet, or kind, or sensitive, because I had already learned the lesson the hard way - nice guys don’t get the girl unless it’s a Hollywood movie.
The girls go for the asshole guys that treat them like shit - the dominant Alpha Males. It’s a primitive thing, they can’t even help it. The vast majority of women are sexually attracted to men that they feel can protect them, and a lot of women get upset when I say this, but women naturally want to serve a man that they think is superior. Well, for the most part, at least.
Sandy was nothing like the other girls. There are exceptions to every rule, and Sandy was it. She was good and pure and kind. Not after me for my money, not looking to elevate her social status by hanging off of a billionaire’s arm. She was the best person I’d ever had the fortune to meet. And that’s why it was all the more shocking seeing her crafting this elaborate web of lies to deceive my father.
And I couldn’t explain why it made me sadder than I remembered being in years.
There were several reasons why I was feeling a sudden overwhelming surplus of sadness, and I didn’t like any of them. The most likely answer and, of course, the least desirable of these answers, was that all my talk about emotions and how to control them was for naught because as soon as Sandy came back into my life, I was reverting back into the person I’d been when I was a kid. Sappy, sentimental, ruled by emotions.
And Sandy was one of two people who could induce such a tectonic shift within me. The other being my father, of course. But with him, I’d had emotional outbursts for years, and they were always ones of frustration or anger. My Dad was an emotional person. But with Sandy? The emotions that she made me feel were ones that made me never want to be angry or irritated again. Made me never want to shout again, never ever have an argument before.
She made me so good-natured, so good-spirited that I wanted to go out into the world that very day and cure world hunger. Give out thousands of dollars until every single person who slept on the street had a home. Get hold of a transplant waiting list from a hospital and pay every single person’s medical fees. Stop the polar ice caps melting, end the war between the US and the Middle East.
I wanted to do things that didn’t even make any sense, I wanted to share the good feelings and generosity that Sandy had welled up within me with the rest of the world, and it was an emotion that I couldn’t explain because I also felt sad. Sad to see someone as good and unsullied as Sandy look my Dad in the face and lie for material gain. I felt a strange sense of protection like I should be protecting Sandy from the darkest parts of herself.
But wait! I thought. Maybe I was right after all. I need to control my emotions, stop thinking like this!
I shook my head vigorously as if literally shaking the foreign ideas from my very brain. It was at times like this I felt as though I was regaining some small measure of control over myself by repeating my own mantra to myself. Only one man was in control of Nick McConnery, and that man was Nick McConnery.
My personal philosophies were all centered around my uniqueness. I wasn’t just the most important person in my mind, I was the most important person in the world. I was a pioneer, the best at every single thing I attempted, and I believed it from the bottom of my heart for the simple reason that nobody could prove it wrong. Some people called it being self-absorbed, but there was a reason why I was so popular in high school and college. There’s a reason why I’m the most desired bachelor in New York City, despite not actually being a monogamous man.
Chapter Fifteen
Sandy
When I awoke the next morning, it was with a heart full of triumph. Whenever Nick and I were together, he continually shocked me with the vastness of his wealth and the fanciness of his life. Last night, however, it had been I who’d surprised him. Ever since I’d gotten the news that Nick’s Dad planned on meeting me over dinner, I’d racked my brain to anticipate every single question that Lord McConnery was going to fire my way.
My plan, to my delight, bore deadly fruit, and Lord McConnery had never been more impressed with me, not even when I’d worked for him and had been producing some pretty impressive work in the field of interior design. If I do say so myself. Not to blow my own trumpet or anything.
For a moment, I laid there in bed, not moving, and just soaking up the joyous feeling of having won for a change. When you’re in any way involved with Nick McConnery or his noble father for that matter, you can never win. Not ever. That’s their special power, you never win. You might be right on occasion, but you never win. I remember once, in high school, Nick and I had a forty-five-minute discussion on which half of a slice of bread is better.
Yeah, I know. When you’re around petty people, you start arguing about petty stuff.
I don’t even remember what our arguments were, exactly, but if I’m honest, I’m not sure that it even matters. Considering it was concerning a slice of bread. I don’t think there’s ever been a critically important argument that concerned a slice of bread. Or has there been? I wouldn’t know, I’m not an expert on petty arguments, thankfully.
I couldn’t stop myself grinning over the superb way I’d handled Nick’s Dad over dinner. I must admit, I didn’t get a whole lot of chances to show off what I could do outside of the arena of interior decorating, and even that was rapidly losing its excitement. I’d been at my level for years now and was looking to move up in the business, but I’d made a tragic mistake common to people who don’t see it coming.
When I’d first gotten the job at Elegance Refined, I absolutely dominated. People thought I was literally Superwoman. Or is it Supergirl? It’s one of the two. Anyway, as my career had developed and I’d become better and better, the head of the firm had realized that he couldn’t afford to lose me or move me out of the position I was in. I’d become an integral piece of the machine that I helped run, and now it was going to be that much harder to get out of when the time came. So, I didn’t even have the words to describe how good it felt to move out of the arena that I knew so well, the arena that I’d dominated, and move into a fresh setting, a new scenario. And it felt even better to find that I’d dominated here too. Again, this was all doing wonders for my self-esteem, and when you wake up in a good mood, you feel like you can get out of bed and take on the world. And taking on the world was exactly what I felt as though I could do that morning.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. The couples’ competition was about three weeks away, give or take, which meant that Nick and I would have to get “married” within a fortnight at least. I’d brought this up to Nick last night, but he’d been too busy sipping on his two-hundred-year-old brandy with his Dad to pay attention. For someone who constantly complained that he never saw eye-to-eye with his Dad, I thought they got along quite well.
I mean, how could they not, considering how similar they were? And I don’t just mean similar in terms of looks, I mean similar in terms of personality. They were both rich, snooty a-holes whose level of “a-hole-ness” increased or decreased depending on how they were feeling. But then again, I guess that was everyone. But then again, we all know that a-holes become more a-hole-like (more holy?) when they’ve got money. And to say that the McConnerys “had money” was the understatement of the year.
Mr. McConnery’s network, last I checked, was valued around twenty billion. Give or take. That made them about the richest family in New York, and High Risers the wealthiest business on the Eastern coast.
And if I didn’t know them personally, and if I didn’t know that they were actually big babies pretending to be adults, I might even be impressed by that. I swung my legs out of bed and went to grab my phone, which I’d left on my kitchen coffee table. I gave Nick’s phone a quick ring, and he answered promptly, which surprised me. “Hello?”
“Hey, Nick, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Hello?” Nick said again. “I can’t hear anything. Who’s this?”
“It’s Sandy,” I said louder. “Can you hear me?”
Nick suddenly laughed. “Voicemail hoax! Did I get you? I got you, right? Tell me, I got you. Anyway, I can’t come to the phone now, so leave a message.”
I sighed exasperatedly. Oh, how I’d forgotten about the elaborate voicemail hoaxes Nick had loved to construct in high school to mess with people. I’d even helped him do a few of them once or twice. It’d seemed hilarious back then, but now? Not so much.
I re-dialed, and Nick actually picked up this time. I could tell because he said “Yo” the way he does when he’s trying to sound cool.
“Where were you?” I asked, a touch more accusingly than I had intended.
“I was busy!” Nick replied defensively. “Sorry, mom!”
I narrowed my eyes. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Sure thing, mommy,” Nick said innocently. “Anyway,” he went on before I could cut in. “What can I do for you?”
“The wedding,” I explained. “We’re going to have to sort it out.”
“Yeah, I know,” Nick said. “You told me yesterday, remember?”
I frowned. He was listening? “You were listening?” I echoed myself.
“Of course, I was listening,” Nick sounded like he was rolling his eyes. “I hired an event manager. I gave him your address, he should be there in about an hour. Is it cool if I meet you there?”
I nearly choked on my own tongue. “An hour? And you didn’t tell me sooner?”
“I figured you’d already be up, or whatever,” Nick said.
I sighed exasperatedly again. “Okay, fine, see you in an hour, I guess.”
As soon as I put the phone down, I knew I was going to have to rush to get dressed. I darted back and forth across the apartment for the next twenty minutes, throwing things around, showering, getting dressed, and just in the nick of time, it seemed, as there was a knock at my door.
When I opened, I found myself face-to-face with a man I didn’t know. He was somewhat middle-aged, maybe approaching fifty-five. He was slender and tall, balding, but what was left of his hair was ginger. He had a long, pointy nose, but kind eyes and a polite smile.
“Hello,” I said politely. “You must be…?”
“Mr. Wesley,” the man said. “I was hired by a Mr. McConnery.”
“Oh, Nick,” I nodded. “Yeah, I’m…his fiancée.”
I almost choked on the word, and my heart started beating faster, almost as though Mr. Wesley was going to see the word LIAR etched on my forehead, or glimpse the truth in my eyes.
Mr. Wesley didn’t seem remotely alarmed by my behavior. He stepped over the threshold with a nod of thanks and shut the door behind him.
“So, essentially my job is an event manager,” Mr. Wesley was saying. “Basically, what I do is you guys tell me exactly what it is you want, and then I find the best and most cost-effective way of making that happen. However, Mr. McConnery tells me money is no object, so I guess you’re good to go.”
“I guess we’re just waiting on “Mr. McConnery” to get here,” I rolled my eyes. “Can I get you some coffee while you wait?”
“Yes, please, thank you,” Mr. Wesley nodded. He took a seat on the sofa and took off his swamp green jacket while I prepared the beverage in the coffee maker.
“Do you take sugar?” I asked.
I had a sudden flashback to in our offices when Michael had asked Nick the same question. He’d responded with ‘no thanks, I’m sweet enough.’ I’d rolled my eyes at the time, but now I was smiling at the thought.
Suddenly, there was another knock at the door. My heart fluttered. “That must be him.”
I set the coffee mug down in front of Mr. Wesley and went to open the door. There was Nick, looking just as gorgeous as ever. He’d changed out of his tuxedo into a V-necked sweater and khakis. I guess he was going for the ‘stay-at-home-Dad’ look.
“Hey, honey, I’m home,” Nick said, smirking devilishly.
I rolled my eyes. I seemed to be doing that a lot these days. “Hello, dear,” I played along. “The event manager is here.”
“So, I see,” Nick nodded, walking past me into the front room. “How do you do?” he asked snootily, offering Mr. Wesley a handshake.
“So, let’s talk details,” Mr. Wesley wanted to get right down to business. “What kind of wedding are you looking to have?”
I suddenly felt like an idiot. I spent all that time worrying about what Nick’s Dad would ask, that I wasn’t at all paying attention to the most obvious question of all. What kind of wedding did I want?
“Uh…” I stammered lamely. “I’m not too fussed, I just…I’ll go with whatever Nick wants, I suppose.”
Mr. Wesley gave me an uncertain glance. “You know…you must be the first bride-to-be that I’ve ever met that’s “not too fussed” about her wedding.”
I smiled. “That’s me for you. One of a kind. Will you two excuse me for a moment, I just need to…uh…bathroom.”
As soon as the door closed behind me, I pressed my face against the wood and inwardly cursed myself out for being an idiot.
“Not too fussed,” I muttered. “What a ridiculous thing to say.”
Behind the door, I could hear the soft voices of the men talking.
“Is she okay?” Mr. Wesley was asking. “She seems a bit…strained.”
“She’ll be fine,” Nick assured him. “She’s under a lot of pressure at work, and with the wedding…she’s just really trying her hardest not to be, you know, Bridezilla.”
I stifled a giggle at this. Bridezilla was the perfect word to describe the kind of bride I definitely did not want to be.
“She says she’s not fussed,” Nick was saying. “But ignore that, I know exactly what she wants. She’s an interior designer, and she’s got great taste. She loves Fall colors, like brown, red, soft orange.”
“You mean Autumn?” Mr. Wesley swiftly amended.
Nick chuckled softly. “That’s what she says.”
“Okay, so we have an idea on what we want to start with, color-scheme-wise,” Mr. Wesley said. “What about venues?”
“She’d love to do the ceremony outside,” Nick said thoughtfully like he was speaking more to himself than anyone else. “You know, like in the forest somewhere. Somewhere there is a lot of nature. Lots of wet, shitty leaves, you know what I mean.”
Mr. Wesley laughed at this. “I was with you all the way up until the ‘lots of shitty leaves’ part, but yeah, I get what you mean. Alright, we can arrange that. I mean, we will have to consider rain, but yeah, let’s get the ball rolling on that.”
I couldn’t explain the stabbing feeling I felt in my chest. Did Nick really know all that about me? Because it was true, I adored autumn colors, I loved being outside, with nature, and given a choice, I suddenly knew I would much prefer to have a wedding outside than in.
Nick always put on the ‘Devil-May-Care’ act, but what if it really was an act? He’d just single-handedly planned me the perfect wedding, even if it was fake. Well, I knew one thing for certain. I knew exactly who I wanted to be my Maid of Honour.
Chapter Sixteen
Nick
Before I knew it, the day of the wedding was upon us. And try as I might, I couldn’t shake the feeling of…well…panic that was settling in my gut. No matter what I did, or said, or how many shots I took, I couldn’t help but dwell on the notion that my entire life was spiraling out of control. What would happen if Sandy and I were discovered?
I didn’t even want to entertain the idea, never mind live it! Sandy barely had much in the first place, which also meant she had marginally less to lose than I did. I knew that I tended to walk around like I owned the whole planet, but it was a far cry from the truth. If I pushed Dad too far, he’d simply cut me off. I’d end up homeless and penniless, and I wanted to think about that possibility even less than I did about getting caught.
But as Sandy and I kept telling ourselves, the time to back out had already passed us by, as had the happy luxury of choice. We had to go through with this. Perhaps I’d attempt to renegotiate our deal to get a fifty percent cut of the takings if we won this couples’ competition, after all, seeing as I was risking so much. Five hundred thousand dollars was chickenfeed compared to what Dad had access to, but it was something.
My hands even trembled as I tipped the decanter up and poured out a generous measure of whiskey into the tumbler. My hands never tremble! There I stood in my dressing room. It was pretty fancy, but then again, I always get the best. It’s how I was raised. Golden daylight streamed in through the transparent sliding door, which led out onto a little veranda and a garden beyond. Most of the sunlight, however, was obscured by racks upon racks of suits. I simply hadn’t been able to decide which suit I was going to wear when I walked up the aisle.
Would I wear the stone-grey two-piece Tom Ford and a matching grey tie? Classy, but grey had a certain aging effect, it was the suit for older and middle-aged men. A demographic that I thanked all the gods in the sky that I did not yet fit.
I could always go classic, I reminded myself on almost an hourly basis, and wear a jet-black two-piece Armani, with a black-tie to match and Oxfords? Black was definitely my color, it always had been, but…a bit boring, maybe? I had my eye on a navy blue suit that I’d hardly worn ever since I’d bought it and caramel brown shoes, but I wasn’t too sure.
