The Meet Cute Method, page 12
Yes, I was waiting for the moment, and my mind went to some weird and wonderful places wondering what the universe might throw at me, but hats off to it, because this (whatever this is) didn’t even cross my mind.
‘Erm…’
I shift awkwardly on the spot.
‘How was the flight?’ the woman asks. She has an English accent with sporadic American bursts, as though perhaps she’s been living over here for a while.
‘Great,’ I reply. Oh my God, why am I replying? What the hell is going on?
‘Where’s Max?’ the man asks. His accent is all English. London born and bred. ‘He hasn’t gone for a snooze already, has he?’
‘That’s your son,’ the woman teases. ‘No stamina for long-distance travel.’
I was really hoping for a different explanation but, nope, these are Max’s parents. What the hell is going on?
‘Sorry, where are our manners?’ the woman says as she approaches me. She pulls me close for a hug. The man soon follows and does the same. This is so weird.
‘I’m Eva,’ she says. ‘And this is my husband, Ronnie. I’m sure you knew that.’
She laughs wildly. Eva is beautiful, like a Catherine Zeta-Jones type with a perfect face and long, glossy brown hair. If I had to think of an actor doppelganger for Ronnie, well, he looks and sounds like an older Daniel Craig. Dirty-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, rugged good looks. Max definitely looks more like his mum. Dark features, more on the pretty side than the rugged, a friendly smile that beams reassurance and friendliness in the form of perfect teeth. Perfect for now at least. Just you wait until I get my hands on him.
‘Mum, Dad, hi.’ I hear Max’s voice from behind me. He sounds terrified. Of course he does. He knows that I know. I mean, I don’t exactly know what I know yet, not properly, but I know something is going on here.
‘Max, darling,’ Eva sings as she heads over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Ronnie offers him a hand to shake before pulling him close for a manly hug. I can’t bring myself to look Max in the eye.
‘We were just introducing ourselves to your beautiful fiancée,’ Eva tells him. She turns to me. ‘Honestly, Fran, I can hardly believe you’re real.’
God, she doesn’t know the half of it. Then again, neither do I, so I do what I always do in tricky situations.
I pat my body up and down, eventually relocating my phone in the pocket of my dress, before looking at the screen and making a face.
‘Oh, my goodness, so sorry, it’s work,’ I tell them. ‘I’ll just step out and take this.’
‘Work, on holiday?’ Ronnie says. ‘A woman after my own heart.’
‘We understand you have an important job, sweetheart, you go ahead,’ Eva reassures me.
I smile before heading to the door. As I pass Max, we briefly make eye contact. If looks could kill, he would be on the floor right now. The only look on his face is panic.
‘Are you okay, darling?’ Eva asks him. ‘Are you tired?’
I close the door behind me before running down the hallway. Eventually I reach the lobby where I plonk myself down on one of the sofas. My bum has no sooner touched the seat when I’m calling Addison. Thankfully she answers.
‘Frankie?’ she says. ‘Hello. Did you land safe? What time is it there? How’s Hawaii?’
I thought Addison would be angry to hear from me, outside work hours, so soon into my trip, but her friendly small talk says otherwise. Now I’m going to ruin her day.
‘Hi, yes, I did land safe. It’s half eleven in the morning. Hawaii is lovely but this whole thing is fucked because Max is a sociopath who has totally set me up,’ I tell her, without pausing to even take a breath.
‘Wow,’ she says simply. ‘It’s half nine in the evening here. Time differences always fascinate me.’
Is she for real?
‘Addison, did you hear what I said?’ I say, cutting to the chase.
‘Go on then, what’s so wrong with Mr Perfect on your perfect free holiday?’ she asks in a tone that I do not appreciate.
‘Well, I’ve turned up to the hotel, and there’s only one bed,’ I start.
‘Frankie, Max is a fitty, so why on earth is that an issue?’ she asks me seriously.
‘Erm, because his parents are here, and they think I’m his fiancée, because he’s told them I’m his fiancée,’ I tell her plainly. Even Addison can’t think this is acceptable.
‘What?’ she replies. There it is. A normal reaction. ‘This is fantastic!’
Or maybe not.
‘Excuse me?’ I say in disbelief. ‘Did you just say this was fantastic? Addison, he’s clearly deranged.’
‘What you’re not seeing is how good this is for the feature,’ Addison insists. ‘The article is evolving. You’ve had the perfect meet cute with the perfect man. Now what you need to do is write about it – about how badly it’s turned out. That’s the new story. The desperate lengths men will go to.’
‘I need to come home,’ I tell her.
‘No, you need to stay there and do your job,’ she corrects me. ‘You need to find out why he’s doing this, what his game is, and how it plays out. If you can’t do that – your job – then perhaps I seriously need to rethink if it’s the right job for you.’
I’m stunned into silence.
‘Get me some gold, Frankie,’ she eventually says. ‘And, for goodness’ sake, try to enjoy yourself. You’re in Hawaii.’
I still don’t know what to say.
‘Frankie? Hello? Is it your signal?’
I place my phone on airplane mode, a sure-fire way to make the call seem like your signal has gone, instead of seeming like you’ve hung up on someone, because hanging up on Addison would be the easiest way to get the sack.
I can’t believe she wants me to stay here and write about this. I can’t believe I’m going to, but what choice do I have?
I puff air from my cheeks as I slump back on the sofa. Looking out over the resort, down towards the sea, I never imagined my own personal hell to be quite so beautiful. I know, there are worse places to be forced to stay, but I think it’s just the fact that I don’t feel like I have a choice. Addison will sack me for sure if I abandon the mission and head home. Talk about being trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.
I feel despondent. Despondent in Hawaii. That would make a great title for something. It certainly feels appropriate for this chapter of my life. Only I could make paradise so shitty.
‘Frankie,’ I eventually hear Max say, panic in his voice. ‘Frankie, I can explain.’
I look up and, for the first time, his easy-going carefree vibe is nowhere to be seen.
He takes a seat next to me.
‘That would be great,’ I say, extra sarcastically. ‘Because, I don’t know, it sort of seems like you’ve brought me on holiday to introduce me as the woman you’re marrying to your parents? But that can’t be true, because that’s insane.’
‘I honestly don’t know what I was thinking,’ he says. ‘Well, I sort of do, in places. Every year, my family takes a holiday together. This year, for the first time, I told them that I was coming with my girlfriend, Fran. Fran is a real person – a real person who cheated on me last month. I knew I needed to be honest, because I’m not a total fucking arsehole, I swear, but when I called up… I don’t know, I just panicked. Somehow my mum interpreted me saying I had news as me having big, exciting news. She put me on speaker, so my dad, brother and his wife could all hear. I panicked and told them we’d got engaged. I knew, before the words had finished leaving my mouth, that it was a stupid thing to say. I was all set for coming on my own, wondering what kind of excuse I could make that people would buy, for why she suddenly couldn’t come after booking the time off work and everything. And then I met you, and your name was so similar, and you needed a holiday, and I never sent anyone a photo of Fran, or told them much about her, because I try not to tell my family much, so it felt like a sign that I should bring you, and I realise how moronic that sounds now, I really do.’
‘Wow, there really is no such thing as a free holiday,’ I say with a sigh.
‘In my head, originally, I thought we could help each other out, and I was going to tell you before we flew, but you didn’t show up, and then I got caught up in what a good time we were having, but these are all explanations, not excuses, I should have told you,’ he insists. ‘It was certainly my plan to tell you before you met my parents. I definitely wasn’t expecting you to play along, honestly.’
I finally look at Max. He usually has such a sparkle in his eye but today it’s a little harder to see. I do feel sorry for him – of course I do. Getting cheated on is horrendous, and, well, I can’t say that if I was in the situation he was, when he called to tell his mum that he and Fran had broken up, I wouldn’t have done the same (except I probably would have mucked it up from the get-go).
‘Where do we go from here, then?’ I ask him.
‘I’ll tell them the truth,’ he says. ‘I’ve made things so much worse, because this is going to be even more mortifying now, but it has to be done. You don’t have to go home, though. Stay, enjoy the holiday, I can keep out of your way, you can have the suite, I’ll book myself a room in the hotel.’
I think for a moment. Lord knows I’ve got myself in enough messes like this, okay, perhaps not on this scale, but I did steal a dog, con a doctor and suck down a disturbing amount of blue ink trying to seduce a man who was just trying to do his job. And that was all just last week. Plus, Addison wants me to make this article about Max, and what he’s brought me here for. Convincing me to go on holiday with him just to trick his parents into thinking he isn’t single is exactly the kind of thing Addison wants me to write about, so staying here might not be so bad for me after all. I’ve got to keep my eyes on the prize and that prize is my promotion and my new apartment. I just need to focus on that.
‘Look, I’m not jazzed about the order of events,’ I start. Already I see that sparkle returning to Max’s eyes. ‘But, okay, I’ll stay, and I’ll pretend to be your fiancée.’
‘Really?’ he replies. ‘Frankie, you don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, really,’ I say. ‘And we can stick with the original room situation, with me in the bedroom and you on the sofa. It would seem weird if you got a different room.’
‘Right, yes,’ he replies. ‘Sorry, obviously I never do anything like this, so I’m in over my head,’
Oh, Max. I do this sort of thing all the time. Never successfully, but that’s beside the point.
‘It’s fine,’ I tell him. ‘I’m still mad at you, but I’ll help you make this work. This had better be one hell of a holiday, though.’
‘Trust me, you can’t not have an incredible time, my parents pay for everything, you can have anything you want – they encourage it.’
‘I’m not sure how comfortable I feel taking advantage of your parents and spending their money,’ I reply.
‘A girl after my own heart,’ he says. ‘But, honestly, it’s almost as though they make it their mission to make each family holiday more expensive than the last. You would be doing a favour, giving them something to brag to their friends about. My dad is on the Forbes 400. If I didn’t tell you now, don’t worry, he’d tell you at some point if he thought there was a chance you didn’t know.’
‘Who are you?’ I ask in disbelief.
Max smiles. ‘Come on, I think it’s about time I introduced you to the Ray family.’
Now I really am intrigued.
20
It turns out that not only are Max’s parents also staying in one of these suites, but pretty much the whole block is booked up for his family members, and the ones that aren’t needed are booked anyway, to ensure absolute privacy. Seriously, who are these people?
I quickly tried to google Max Ray while I was freshening up, grabbing the first plain-looking sundress from my case (still too scared to take stock of everything else in there) ahead of meeting his parents properly for lunch (and with a better understanding of the part I’m here to play) but nothing came up. Well, nothing apart from a character from a TV show, The Centurions, who was called Max Ray.
We’re in Max’s parents’ suite, sitting at the dining table, waiting for them to come down and join us for lunch. Various hotel employees are fussing around us, laying out a gigantic buffet on the table in front of us. Their suite has the same natural, relaxing décor as ours, except theirs must be four times the size. It’s bigger than most people’s houses. The fact that it’s just the two of them staying in here gives me a glimpse into what I’m working with. I definitely don’t belong here.
‘My parents never arrive before the food,’ Max explains. Sort of. I don’t understand why. ‘Thank you.’
Max must have thanked me a thousand times. For some reason he needs this, and I mean really needs it. There’s a desperation in him that I haven’t seen since I went on that date with Tom the mystery diner. Which one of us was desperate? Christ, probably both of us.
‘It’s fine,’ I whisper back.
It occurs to me that I shouldn’t be looking up Max on the internet. I should be looking up his dad. Ronnie Ray.
Unlike Max who, if he did have an online presence, didn’t show up in search results because he shared a name with a character from a TV show, there is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, keeping Ronnie Ray from the top spot.
Ronnie Ray is the founder and CEO of tech giant Optecho. I’ve heard of them – who hasn’t? I’ve even owned products by them. In fact, my first webcam, when I was a teenager, was made by them, and I spent so much time on MSN I was basically staring at their eye logo the whole time. Lenses are their speciality – it seems like most of the tech they create is some kind of camera.
I take a break from my detective work to look up at Max and give him a reassuring smile. We’re not talking much while the servers are laying the table, so I get back to my phone screen.
I click on his Wikipedia page – everyone’s initial go-to for research – and sure enough, there is a photo of Ronnie. It’s definitely him. Eva Ray is listed as his wife and, when you click her link, there’s a photo of her and Ronnie on a red carpet at some big, flashy event. On Eva’s page I notice her children. Maximillian Ray. Wow, so that’s his real name. No wonder nothing comes up when I search him. He doesn’t have a link but his brother, Kingsley ‘Lee’ Ray, does. It turns out that Kingsley is the COO of Optecho while Max, the eldest son, writes for a tech website thousands of miles away. I wonder why that is? Perhaps that’s why he feels so self-conscious about being single, because he wants to impress his family.
Soon enough, it’s just me, Max and the buffet to end all buffets. There’s a gigantic platter of crudités, an even bigger plate overflowing with sushi – this is way more than the four of us could eat in a week – along with large pitchers of various cocktails. The smell of the drinks is so good there’s a nagging little ache under my tongue, begging me to grab a glass.
A matter of seconds after the staff clear out, Ronnie and Eva descend the stairs with all the swagger and style you would lend to the Oscars. Eva’s outfit wouldn’t be out of place either. Her sundress makes mine look like a rag. She’s wearing a long baby-blue gown-like dress covered with tiny sparkling sequins, making it look like the ocean when the sun hits it just right. Ronnie is more casual, in cargo shorts and a beige short-sleeved shirt.
‘Darlings, so happy you could join us,’ Eva says. As she approaches us, she kisses us both on the cheek, Max then me.
‘We would have been down sooner, but the pillows haven’t arrived,’ Ronnie tells us. ‘So I had to sort that, you know your mum.’
‘You don’t have any pillows?’ I say. A five-star resort like this forgot the pillows? Is that even possible?
‘Oh, we do,’ Eva says. ‘But I always bring my own pillows. I don’t like the idea of sleeping on a pillow that someone else has slept on, you know?’
She says this in a way that I think is supposed to come across as relatable, but I can’t say I’ve ever taken my own pillows to a hotel, that’s sort of what you expect to be included in the price, second only to the actual bed.
‘We don’t want to hear about your diva demands,’ Ronnie says through a mouthful of sushi. ‘We want to learn all about you, Fran.’
‘Please, call me Frankie,’ I insist. ‘Those close to me call me Frankie.’
That ought to make things easier. Well, it is my name, after all.
‘Frankie, how lovely,’ Eva says. ‘Come on then, let’s see your engagement ring.’
Eva’s eyes narrow when she realises I don’t have a ring on. I just had to eat a pastry right as she asked.
‘No ring?’ she says in disbelief.
‘Would you believe it? I took it off to have a shower, before we left for the airport, and I left it in the bathroom,’ I lie.
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ she replies. ‘But that just means there’s another surprise coming. I have to admit, we were shocked when we learned about the engagement.’
She’s not the only one.
‘I was more shocked to learn that this one was marrying a spinal surgeon,’ Ronnie says with a laugh.
I look at Max and smile with my mouth while I panic with my eyes.
Oh, for God’s sake, why did it have to be a spinal surgeon?
‘I would love to hear more about that,’ Eva says excitedly. ‘I don’t know the first thing about spinal surgery.’
Once more, with feeling this time: she’s not the only one!
‘Oh, bones are really quite boring,’ I say with a dismissive bat of my hand. ‘Nowhere near as interesting as what you guys do, I’m sure.’
‘And yet this one still won’t work with us,’ Ronnie says as he points an extra-long raw carrot baton at his son.
I relax in my chair as he changes the subject.
‘I did try it,’ Max reminds him. ‘It wasn’t for me.’
‘And yet you had the audacity to give our bodycams a three-star review,’ Ronnie says.
‘Are we really doing this now?’ Max asks with a laugh. ‘Come on, Dad, it’s supposed to be a holiday.’
