Fake It To Make It Pt 04

Chapter 7

Sitting on the wrought-iron chair in front of the café, I tightened my sweater around my shoulders. The breeze kicked up on the shady side of the building and left me chilled to the bone, while Cici sat across from me in her sleeveless summer dress suit, hair twisted into a French up-do. I felt like I looked like a homeless person wearing my joggers and sneakers while she was dressed to the nines and looked like she'd come off the cover of Business Weekly. But she didn't seem to mind.

What she did mind was how I was dating her brother, and apparently she minded it so much she couldn't even talk about it. We took lunch like this together a couple times a week, but this week she'd already canceled on me twice and today being Friday, she tried to brush it off again with an excuse of last-minute work that had to be finished before the weekend. Now she sat buttering her roll and ignoring me.

I used the stir stick to swirl my coffee around, mixing the alternative sweetener in the bottom of the cup. It wasn't that I disliked the stuff, I just hated how it never fully dissolved and left a bitter aftertaste at times. With Jeremy's strict food regimen he placed me on--because he thought I wasn't taking things seriously--I could have literally nothing at this place but the coffee. I cheated and added sweetener, but it was zero calories and he'd never know.

"Are you going to stay mad at me forever?" I asked her, but my words got swallowed by a passing car honking its horn. She looked up at me, having only heard "are you going to" and met my gaze.

"Am I what?" Her hand hovered in the air holding the buttery warm roll, making my mouth water. I scowled at it because I was so hungry I could literally eat a whole rack of rolls. My stomach screamed for food, churning with all the bile and stomach acids that were meant to be dissolving my lunch right now.

"Nothing..." I muttered, thinking only about the food, but Cici read into it too much.

"Are you upset with me?" she asked, setting the roll back on the paper plate in front of her. My eyes followed the roll then met her gaze again, mouth like Niagara Falls at this point. I swallowed my spit and sighed.

"I'm not upset with you at all. I'm wondering why you're upset with me. You canceled our lunch more than once this week, tried to get out of it today and now you're not talking to me." I sat a bit straighter and picked up the coffee, bringing it to my lips for a hot sip. It tantalized my tastebuds but I knew it would never even touch the roar of my belly.

Cici's shoulders dropped and she looked away from me, up the street at foot traffic. There was always someone on the sidewalk, and we enjoyed people watching as a hobby at times, but this was different. She was avoiding me, and I knew why. I was putting pressure on her to see how stubborn she was being toward her own brother.

"Look, Nev, you know Beck is a piece of work. You've seen the way he treated me for years. I'm sort of pissed at you that you'd actually want to date him after what he did. I know you don't mean to, but it seems like you're picking sides and you've chosen his." When she turned her attention back to me I saw the hurt expression. I hadn't even considered that she'd think this way, though it doesn't surprise me.

Every time Beck and Drew pranked her as a teen, I'd laugh a little and she'd be pissed. She'd say I was choosing their side of some unspoken feud between them. I learned pretty quickly to not laugh no matter how funny it was, and some of the things they did to her were really funny. Like vodka in her water bottle.

"I'm not choosing a side, babe. You know how much I've liked your brother. He's lonely, and he had no one to talk to, so he started talking to me. We hit it off, and now..." I shrugged one shoulder and hated myself for lying to her. That wasn't at all how it went, but she had to believe that. She had to know Beck had a heart and was a good man, because he was. I had to sell that to her.

She scoffed and dropped her head, staring into her food dish. I knew she couldn't fathom us actually dating because she saw him very differently than I did. Of course she would; they were siblings.

"You don't see it, do you?" Cici's forehead crinkled in frustration.

"See what?" I set the coffee cup down and waited for her to explain. She would certainly have some new revelation for me that would be aimed at convincing me I was doing something wrong or believing a lie. I just refused to believe her.

A car passed by again, whipping my loose hair around. I tucked it behind my ear as she steadied her almost-empty coffee cup on the table. Then she continued.

"He's just like your ex."

Confused, I asked, "Kevin? How's that?" Kevin was the absolute worst--emotionally controlling and manipulative, and physically abusive. I let him "accidentally" hit me once, but when he did it a second time I left. Unfortunately it was after some other events that transpired that nearly destroyed me. Things I never wanted to think about again.

Beck was nothing like that.

"Yeah, Kevin.... Nev, Beck is going to ruin you. He's going to control your life down to what you wear and where you go--"

"You're wrong." I cut her off and felt my temper rising. My natural inclination toward positivity, optimism, and joy was being challenged. "Beck isn't like that. And you have to stop thinking about him like that. You are projecting your hurts onto him now."

Cici rolled her eyes at me and looked like she might get up and leave, her hand resting on the table, feet tucked under her chair. Then she let her shoulders slump again. "Alright, so maybe him being my big brother made me jaded against his ability to treat a woman correctly, but I have good reason to believe that."

None of this discussion was getting us anywhere closer to the idea of her and Beck being on speaking terms again. So I changed the subject. "If anyone's like Kevin it's Jeremy. I'm starving. This stupid diet plan he has me on is killing me." My stomach rumbled in a chorus of agreement and I covered my face and planted my elbows on the table. I was constantly nauseous and always tired too. I hated it. I wanted a different career if this was all modeling was about.

"What?" she asked, relaxing a bit. She pulled my hands away from my face and looked at me closely for the first time today. "Are you eating?"

A bird flew overhead, casting a shadow over us briefly and I glanced up at it, then refocused on her face. In my shame, I didn't even want to answer. But she could read me like a book.

"Oh fuck's sake, Nev. That man is a total asshole. You have to eat."

Maybe she was right. I had a type of guy that seemed to hover around me at all times. Dark, brooding, and controlling. Though, I still doubted Beck truly fit into that category. And Jeremy was my agent, not my boyfriend. He was supposed to tell me when I needed to improve something to be better at my job.

"It's not his fault. There is this massive shoot in the spring in Paris and I need to be ready for it. I just have to drop a few pounds for the final headshots. He's waiting on me, but my body isn't cooperating." I didn't mean to sound like I was defending him. But I knew it came across like that.

"That's just sick," she said, pushing her plate away. "I can't believe he'd do that to you. You need to eat to survive. You're probably malnourished." Cici set her plate in front of me and pointed at it. "Eat something."

"I can't," I protested. "I have a weigh-in today."

"Eat!" she ordered and I sighed.

"I'll eat under one condition.... You agree to have dinner with me and Beck. You and Drew can come over and we'll just eat dinner like any group of friends. Please, we're best friends," I pleaded in true "best friend" fashion and she scowled at me.

"I'll think about it," she growled, sitting back in her chair.

I was going to make this thing work even if I had to beg and plead to do it. I wasn't above a bit of emotional manipulation myself.

Chapter 8

Work was exhausting, and the new client who I was trying to land was being difficult. Drew's advice seemed to work at first, but the guy--a very wealthy playboy with nothing better to do than annoy me--had no clue what he wanted. He wasn't like my other clients who were seasoned by age and experience. This guy, a year or two younger than me, got his money in a trust fund given to him when he turned thirty and had mostly wasted it until meeting me.

I needed more help from Drew, tips on how to deal with him, but Drew was still being distant, and even more so after I had that argument with Cici last week. Our plot to make her pay attention seemed like it was progressing at the rate of one step forward and three steps back. It drove me into a mood for nothing but isolation and drinking.

So I sat with old photo albums on my lap, flipping through pages of images that conjured memories of my childhood. Some of them were painful. I tried to skip those ones because if I tapped into those memories I didn't think I'd come back from them. There was a picture of our old home, where we lived before Mom and Dad died. I didn't know who had taken it, but Cici was in the window, probably standing on the back of the couch looking out. Mom and Dad stood next to their flower bed out front, proud of their tiny little patch of earth in the city.

Anger rolled around my chest and I turned the page to forget those days. They were gone in an instant, stolen from me faster than I could even process, and then life changed. We moved in with Gran and Poppop and our house was sold off, our memories gone. And now Cici was gone, removed from my life by her own choosing after something so stupid we should've been laughing it off.

Someone knocked on the door but I ignored it, favoring the damning memories of this album instead. I didn't want company and I didn't want to think or feel anything more tonight. I turned the page again and again, finding more happy things than sad things, though all of the "things" revolved around Cici, Drew, or my college years. Frat parties gone wild, graduation day, sending Cici off to Ohio--nostalgia was a welcome change of emotion. But the banging on the door needled at my patience.

Then I heard the lock click and looked up as Nev pushed the door open. "Fuck's sake, Beck," she grumbled. A key dangled from her finger and her arms were loaded down with groceries and cleaning supplies. "You could at least help."

I slapped the album shut and tossed it onto the couch, rising to meet her in the kitchen. She used her foot to shut the door behind herself and set her load down on the bar. It looked to me like she'd come with the intent to scour my place into shape, but I hadn't asked her to do it. It was an intrusion on my sense of self-worth and my privacy.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, as I leaned on the bar and watched her unloading the bags of sundries. Only three women in my lifetime have ever cared enough to just show up and help me--my mother, my grandmother, and my sister. Nev had never shown an inkling of interest in taking care of me until this fake arrangement.

"I'm here to help you, silly. Now, you put the frozens into the freezer and I'll get started cleaning up." She bustled about the kitchen, placing dirty dishes in the sink and tossing trash in the bin, and I stood there gawking at her in frustration and annoyance.

It was sort of insulting that she'd come into my home to clean it, though I had let the place go quite a bit. It was much cleaner when Cici was staying here with me but the minute she moved into her on place, it had gotten messy again. So what if I was a slob? I lived alone and women didn't like me anyway, so it wasn't like I'd be bringing one home with me. And Nev was my sister's friend, not even my friend. We were only hanging out to prove a point, that I wasn't a trash human being and Cici should forgive me.

"Look, I can handle this," I told her, taking the bag of cleaning supplies off the counter so she couldn't take them out. "It's rude to think you can just come into my place and start cleaning. You're not my real girlfriend, Nev. You're just my little sister's friend."

"Younger, not little--she's not a child. And I'm her best friend, not her 'friend.' And you need help, dude. Look around you. Who else is going to take care of you? Do you really want her coming over here seeing this dump you call an apartment? It will only prove to her that you are irresponsible and immature still." Nev snatched the bag from my hand and scowled at me. "Now put away the frozens." The deep-set creases on her forehead were worse than the exaggerated glowers Cici would give me.

I had no choice but to relent and let her clean, but I managed to get the cold foods put away and my stash of dirty boxers--previously stashed in couch cushions--into the hamper before she started in on the living room.

I sat back down with my beer and my album, sulking and watching her clean. Nev acted like she actually cared about me, like tending my home was an act of love. But she knew this was only a temporary thing, an act for my sister. So why did she care? Could it be as simple as the fact that should Cici visit me, I'd look more put-together? Or was Nev developing feelings for me for real?

I studied her as she worked, humming happily and flitting about like a busy little honey bee. It seemed like genuine happiness and compassion, and I was just a lowlife monster who greedily lapped up the affection without any idea how to return it to her. I wanted to. She deserved it. If anyone in my life right now was worthy of gratitude and affection it was Nev, but it would never work between us.

She knew too much about my ugly sides, my anger problem, my drinking problem, and my need to control everything around me. She didn't take my crap either--case in point: the way she was cleaning my apartment instead of fucking off like I wanted her too. If it were anyone else, we'd have been screaming at each other, but I needed her help with Cici. So I sat there with my feet propped up getting drunker wondering why she was so nice to me. Wondering why I liked and appreciated it. Wondering why I wanted her to keep doing it, and come back tomorrow, and stay here over night, and maybe more of other things that real couples did.

"You okay?" she asked, glancing at me. I was staring; it was rude.

My head spun with emotion and confusion. Was I falling for her now? Or was this the loneliness and the ache of the past memories descending on me in a fog? I let my eyes drop to the album, feeling numb and unable to answer her question. No, I wasn't alright. I'd fucked my life up pretty badly, or maybe it was because of the trauma I'd been through, which had never really been healed.

My parents were torn out of my life and it left a hole, and a need to keep Cici safe and myself held together. I became hyper-independent, hyper-motivated, and very controlling and bossy. If I was in control of things, nothing bad would happen, but every time I let my guard down a little, life quickly reminded me how fast bad things happen and how unsafe and vulnerable I really was.

"Beck.... Bud... Are you okay?" Nev asked again, this time setting her rag and bottle of cleaner on the coffee table.

She sat next to me and my grossly exaggerated movements betrayed how drunk I was. I blinked slowly and put my feet on the ground, then set my beer on the table.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked her, and I could hear how slurred my words were. I also heard how cold I sounded, like an ungrateful ass. But it was safer to be irritated with her, keep her at arm's length so whatever was going on in my heart didn't get worse. She was here to help me get Cici back, not to fall in love with me. And if I let myself get attached, it would hurt like hell when she left. Sure, Cici would be back then, but I wouldn't have this connection, and I wasn't good at saying goodbye.

"Why are you being so hurtful? Is it because you're drinking?" Her pointing out my problem only made me more frustrated with her.

"You think I can't be an ass when I'm sober?" I slurred, and raised one eyebrow at her.

"You're always an ass, but I didn't come here to point that out. Now, grow up and let me finish cleaning." Nev started to stand and rolled her eyes at me, and I grabbed her wrist.

"I don't like the way you're talking to me."

"I don't like the way you take out your emotion on me. I'm not your enemy, Beck. I'm here to show you some compassion." Her tone was so soft, so gentle it disarmed me. Cici would have bitten my head off. Gran would have pulled my ear and forced me to sit down and talk. Poppop would have glared at me, maybe given me a smack to the back of the head, but Nev... She sat back down and held my hand. "I see you're hurting. Let me help you."

I didn't know what to say. I sat there slack-jawed, staring at her and wishing I hadn't been such an idiot to her. She was so kind to me when I was so rude to her. What sort of voodoo was she trying to pull?

"It was the photo album? You saw pictures of you and Cici as kids?" She took the album and laid it aside, then scooted closer, reaching up to rub my shoulder. "That must be hard, huh?"

She reached into my heart and wrapped her words around it, soothing it. I blinked and focused on the sensation of her hands on my shoulders rubbing. Her thigh pressed against mine, and then our eyes met.

"We're going to fix it, okay? I talked to her and she's going to do dinner with us. We just have to set the date." Nev's lips were perfect, full and pouty. Her blonde hair was messy, just the way I liked it, strangled in a hair tie and trying to escape.

"Nev..." I said, reaching up to take one hand. "Thank you." No one had ever treated me like this. I wasn't even sure how to react or what to say.

"Yeah, it's okay. I told you we're going to fix it." She smiled softly and with such deep empathy, I couldn't help but be drawn to her. My eyes focused on her lips first, ruby red and plump. Then the feeling of her hand on my shoulder. I brought it up higher, so she was cupping my cheek, and then I sat up and kissed her lightly.

Our foreheads pressed against each other and she hesitated after the initial kiss. "Beck, are you sure we should be doing this? If we're only having a fake relationship, then this is confusing..."

Her words were in protest, but when I kissed her again, she didn't pull away. In fact, I hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her onto my lap and she slithered over me until she was straddling me.

"Please, let me enjoy you..." Vague flashes of memories teased my mind, me and Nev together. I had no full memories, probably because of the drinking, but I knew it had happened. And I wanted it to happen again.

My brain and heart knew it was dangerous, that I was playing with fire. That allowing myself to feel what I was feeling would only end up hurting me in the long run when things between my sister and I got better and Nev didn't have to pretend to care about me anymore. But after the day I'd had and the way I needed some sort of emotional comfort, I charged ahead full bore.

"Alright," she whispered against my lips and I claimed her again, searching her mouth with my tongue.

The sensation of her lips on mine, the sweet taste of her mouth, it was enough to wash away the thoughts haunting me. The passion between us flamed once more, a dance in which we both took part, matching each other's rhythm. I could feel her fingers tangle in my hair, a sensation that only heightened my longing for her.

It was not long before her hands began to wander further, down my back, sliding under the hem of my shirt to trace the lines of my muscles. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine at her touch, but it only further fueled our collective desire. I returned her actions in kind, hands exploring the curve of her waist, the dip of her back. I could feel her shiver under my touch, a small whimper escaping her lips as I slid my hand higher, my fingers tracing the line of her spine.