Fake, page 27
I knock.
Fallon answers.
We stare in mutual loathing, her brow slowly arching in disbelief, my jaw setting tighter and tighter.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, in a voice that would make polar bears shiver.
“I need to talk to you,” I reply, with enough heat to melt the ice caps.
“I’m not inviting you in.” Fallon steps outside and pulls the door closed to make her point, then glances over my shoulder. Her face transforms into the friendliest of smiles as she waves at a woman walking her dog, only for her features to harden again when she refocuses on me.
“I’m happy to have this conversation out here.” I retreat a few steps to lean against the porch rail and Fallon lifts her chin.
“Just so we’re clear, I have my phone and won’t hesitate to call for emergency services.” She waves the device in question. She doesn’t look at all concerned that I might have something nefarious in mind, but seems like she’s dying to make that call anyway.
I shake my head in disgust. “You don’t actually think I’m here to hurt you.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Nathan ‘Villain Era’ West. Plus, my subscribers would eat that headline up.” Fallon’s lips twitch into a cruel smile. It’s nearly identical to the way Blossom looked when she told me she was using me for my money. Like she takes pride in being nasty. How was Mina ever friends with this person? Though, my family said the same of me and Dom. Sometimes good people get caught up with bad people and don’t realize until too late.
“What did I do to you, Fallon?”
She recoils. Scoffs. Takes a few steps in my direction only to shrug off my question with disdain. “You didn’t do anything to me,” she replies, picking her fingernails with practiced nonchalance.
“Then why did you post all those terrible things about me?”
“I was holding up a mirror.” Fallon extends her hands like a priest to his flock. “Showing you how much you changed. It’s not always comfortable to look our bad choices in the face and admit to our faults, but it’s an important part of being human.”
I’ve never disliked a person as much as I dislike the woman in front of me. It’s taking every ounce of restraint not to loosen the leash on my anger, but I’m playing the long game. Blowing up now won’t do me any good. Patience, grace, and a little vulnerability on my part will reveal everything I need to know about Fallon fucking Mae.
“They weren’t my bad choices though,” I say as a little girl rolls by on a scooter. “You were publishing lies.”
Fallon looks unimpressed. “Was I though? Are you sure?”
“A hundred percent you were.” I cross my arms over my chest, and she wobbles her head back and forth like she’s conceding my point.
“Maybe some of my early stuff was conjecture…”
“That you stated as fact.” I swallow a smile. She doesn’t know it yet, but I have her dead to rights with that admission.
Fallon brushes off the statement. “But most of my latest articles are true.”
“Because Mina started feeding you information.” The statement grinds past a clenched jaw.
Easy now, Nathan. Don’t lose control now.
“You make it sound so duplicitous.” Fallon scoffs in disgust. “Mina wasn’t feeding me information. She was talking to her best friend.”
“A best friend she knew was publishing lies about me!” I close my eyes and purposefully loosen my fists. This conversation requires a clear head. Patience will serve me better than anger.
“You were rude to her for weeks! Of course she’s gonna vent to her best friend! Who wouldn’t vent about fake relationships and rich assholes negotiating most of her paycheck away just to send a text?” Fallon stalks to the other end of her porch, sighing when she notices her neighbor watering her garden, pretending not to listen.
“So it was Mina who said I was using sex as a weapon.”
“No.” Fallon’s quieter now. Closer now. “That was me, seeing through your lies to your true motivation.”
“My true…? I was actively falling in love and doing everything I could to make Mina feel special! You interpreted my actions as manipulative. That doesn’t mean they were.”
And it says more about the woman in front of me than anything yet. The people who manipulate expect manipulation, while the people who are genuine give credit to those who don’t deserve it.
Fallon shrugs. “What can I say? I understand how people work. Poor Mina, though. Her rose-colored glasses just beg someone to take advantage of her. She needed me to help her see what was going on and the only reason she shared anything was because she made me swear not to publish any of it.”
I grab onto that nugget of information like a lifeline. If Mina made Fallon promise not to use what she shared, she couldn’t be Fallon’s secret agent.
“But you published it anyway.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fine.” Fallon throws up her hands. “My career took off when I started talking about you and I couldn’t help myself. Is that what you want to hear?”
“You couldn’t help yourself? My family and friends and colleagues won’t talk to me because of the things you’ve said. You don’t know anything about me or what was really happening or what I was actually doing, but oh no! Don’t let a few facts get in the way of a good story, and certainly not when it’s good for your career. People actually think I’m a villain because of you and Mina. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I’m a real person with real feelings.”
“Not Mina.” Fallon shakes her head. “Just me. She asked me to stop multiple times. She told me I had you wrong more than that. She said I was misrepresenting you—”
“And you kept going? Knowing you were publishing lies as fact?”
She shrugs. “The money was good. What can I say?”
“Maybe start with I’m sorry for lying about you. I’m sorry I told the world you were a villain—”
“Show me proof you’re not a villain! Where is it, Nathan?”
“How about my work for charity? Or the fact that I haven’t sued you for libel?”
Fallon cocks her head, jaw thrust forward, eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“After this conversation, I would. See, I had my phone ready to go at a moment’s notice, too.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the device, brandishing the open and active recording app like a weapon.
“That recording is illegal.” Fallon crosses her arms and lifts her chin. She should be panicking, but she’s too proud and cocksure. “The state of Florida requires consent from all parties to record a conversation.”
I click my tongue. “Unless there is no reasonable expectation of privacy. You yelling at me on your front porch with neighbors in earshot doesn’t seem all that private to me.”
“That’s…” Fallon’s panicking now. “That’s weak and you know it.”
“I don’t think it is, but I can afford the best lawyers to fight it out in court for as long as it takes. Can you?”
“Fine. You’ve got me by the balls. What do you want out of me?”
“I want you to stop posting lies about me. You stop, I won’t sue.”
Panic gives way to sheer terror. “That’ll ruin me! If all I can talk about is how good you are, I’ll lose subscribers.”
“I didn’t say you had to talk about how good I am. I simply said you had to tell the truth.”
Fallon rolls her eyes. “So I can either stop writing about you and lose my livelihood, or write about you and get sued.”
I click my tongue again. “If those are the only two options you see, then I’ve learned all I need to know about Fallon fucking Mae.” Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I turn my back on the woman once and for all.
“Have a lovely day,” I say, then lift my middle finger and strut down the steps.
FORTY-SIX
Mina
A few days after my conversation with Nathan, I’m sitting in the physical therapy room at Shady Cove, watching Mom walk on a treadmill. Her pace is improving. As is her stamina. When she checked in, they had to bring a wheelchair to get her from the car to her room. The woman in front of me wouldn’t need it. She notices me watching and waves, grinning like an Olympian taking gold, before giving her attention to her therapist, a beefy man with peewee football coach vibes.
“How long you been on?” he asks.
Mom checks the readout on her machine. “Ten minutes now.”
Another giant smile.
“What’s your pace?” asks Beefcake McGee.
“Up to a three!” Mom pumps a triumphant fist.
“And your exertion level?”
“I’d say a five or a six,” she replies. “A little out of breath but not that bad. Legs are starting to burn.”
The grin on her therapist’s face says he recognizes the improvement as much as I do. “Why don’t you go another minute and call it a day. That’s great work, Ms. Blake.”
Mom finishes up and does her seated cooldown exercises, then turns down a wheelchair escort to her room. “I don’t have anything else to do today and my daughter’s here. We’ll go slow and I’ll lean on her for support, then take a nap when she leaves.”
Her therapist gives the thumbs up, and Mom threads her arm in mine. I kiss the top of her head then set that slow pace she promised. Fatigue has a way of sneaking up on her. I don’t want excitement to trick her into overdoing it.
“Looks like you’re leaving here to go to work at The Depot.” Mom frowns at my black slacks and black fitted tee.
Returning the advance Nathan gave me definitely put me in a financial pickle. The clientele at my new job is swanky, so the tips are good, but I’m going to be late paying Shady Cove. Thankfully, they were willing to work with me. Glenda, the woman in charge of the finance office, is also a fan of Fallon’s blog. When she saw me walk in, her jaw hit the floor. After some awkward fangirling, she was eager to give me some grace ‘after my ordeal.’
“You promised you wouldn’t feel guilty about me working evenings and weekends,” I say, adjusting my grip on Mom’s arm. “It’s only temporary. Besides, I kind of like it.”
Interior design is mental. I sit in a chair and stare at screens or fabric swatches, daydreaming new color and texture combinations. Waitressing is movement. I’m running from one table to the next all night long. It’s the perfect outlet for my nervous energy.
“I wanted better for you than working so much you barely have time to sleep.” Mom sighs like the weight of the world is settling on her shoulders—an early sign fatigue is setting in. The sooner I get her back to her room, the better, but I don’t dare pick up the pace or I’ll wear her out. Managing her energy is a constant balancing act, but at least she has energy to manage now.
I pat her hand. “There is nothing better than knowing my time and energy are going towards your health and wellbeing. You should know that, considering you worked yourself to the bone for me when I was a kid.”
“That’s just motherhood, Meena Bean.”
The return of my childhood nickname sets off a burst of embarrassed warmth in my heart. “You went above and beyond, and you know it. I’m honored to return the favor. Our family is small, but boy are we mighty.”
“That we are, Meens. That we are.” Mom presses a hand to the wall, and I slow our pace a little more. “Have you heard from Nathan?”
She’s working hard to sound casual, like she didn’t just poke a tender bruise.
“Not really,” I reply, aiming to match her tone and failing. “A little for work, but with the plans for his house finalized, I’m pretty much out of the picture. We haven’t talked about anything real. Nothing about us.”
“I’m sorry, Mina. I so wanted all those red flags to be false.” Her eyes hit mine with the kind of understanding that only exists between mother and daughter, with decades of real, honest talk connecting them.
“You and me both.”
“Have you thought about calling him again?” she asks, smiling at a handsome older man trundling past with an IV stand as we turn the corner to her hallway. He grins, lifting a hand and dipping his chin in a gentlemanly bow. I widen my eyes at Mom after he passes and she waves the topic away, blushing furiously.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say my mother has a crush she’s trying to hide. She must be feeling even better than I thought.
“I didn’t give Nathan the time and space he said he needed the last time,” I say, honoring her need not to talk about Mr. Silverfox with great effort. “I’m giving it to him now. If he’s ready to try again, he’ll call.”
We make it back to Mom’s room and I help her into bed. The walk has tired her out enough that frustration tightens her features. There was a time when walking down a hallway was something she took for granted. There was also a time when we weren’t sure she’d ever manage it again. The stronger she gets, the more she wants what she once had, the easier it is to take her progress for granted.
“You’re doing great,” I say, brushing the hair back from her face. “Making good strides week after week.”
“That’s what they say.” Mom’s eyes slide closed as she sinks into her pillows.
“Listen to ‘em, Mom. Your first doctors said you’d never get your life back and look at you, walking to and from PT like a boss.”
She cocks her head and tuts, a sure sign she knows I’m right, but isn’t in the mood to admit it. Mom’s attitude slips when she’s tired, so I make an excuse about needing to get to The Depot early to fill out some paperwork and make my exit to let her rest.
The drive to the bar is easy and I sit in the parking lot, digesting my conversation with Mom. I miss Nathan. A lot. I’d love to tell him about Mom’s progress, even take him to meet her so he can be just as impressed as I am. But he never saw her at her worst, and I was so busy being strong and trying to prove I wasn’t using him, that I never shared those stories. He was real with me, but I wasn’t with him.
What a shame.
FORTY-SEVEN
Nathan
I pull open the door to The Depot and sigh. It’s everything The Pact is not, which is exactly why Dom chose to meet here. The lighting is dramatic, the tables a gleaming black lacquer with warm brown inlays. The customers are dressed in clothes so expensive, the cost of an outfit could buy a few weeks of groceries for a foundation family, while the servers wear the black on black typical of luxury customer service.
I scan the crowd and find Dom at a table in the middle of the room, sitting back in his chair like he owns the place. There’s a light fixture directly over his head, casting warmth down on him like a spotlight. He probably chose the table himself for that reason alone.
He waves me over, grinning wolfishly as I approach. “What’s good, brother?”
“Can’t complain.” I pull out my seat with a shrug. “The expansion at ROF is rolling along smoothly. We’ve successfully approved our first round of applications and can start bringing much needed relief to people in the area.”
Dom nods even though he doesn’t give a shit. “You heard from Mina?”
“Nope. But she hasn’t heard from me, either. We left things kind of ambiguous.”
I’ve missed her every day and thought about calling her twice an hour. But she said we shouldn’t see each other until she’s financially stable, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to know if that happened. With work so busy and Nick still missing, I don’t have the bandwidth to figure it out. But if I wait too long, she’ll slip through my fingers and the one thing I’m sure of with each passing day is that I can’t let that happen.
Something behind me catches Dom’s attention. He arches a brow and smirks before leaning his elbows on the table. “You’re better off without her.”
“Right.” I fight the urge to turn and see what caught his attention. Probably a dazzling and spectacular woman, and I couldn’t care less about those. “Dollar signs and opportunities and all that.”
“You can’t deny your life improved since you started taking my advice.”
“I’m gonna have a giant ass house that’s too much space for one person. Does that count as an improvement?” As beautiful as that home is going to be, it’s a lot of house for one person.
“I can introduce you to all kinds of women who’d love to fill that extra space for a while.” Dom’s gaze darts over my shoulder again.
“What are you looking at?”
I turn and there she is. My Mina. Hair slicked back into a tight bun, black slacks, black tee, red lips. Tray in hand…
She fucking works here?
Our eyes meet and she draws up short.
A smile brightens her face for an instant before dismay takes its place. Her brows knit and she sighs, looking around as if desperate for an escape.
“Ouch,” murmurs Dom but I don’t care because Mina’s heading this way, shoulders square, chin proud, eyes blazing.
“Hello and welcome to The Depot. I’m Mina and I’ll be your server this evening. Did I give you enough time to decide?” Her tone is polite, though her eyes are panicked. Or pissed. Or…fuck. I don’t know.
“If it isn’t the hundred-thousand-dollar girl.’” Dom throws an arm over the back of the chair and looks downright gleeful at the change in her fortune. “I’ll take a scotch on the rocks, doll.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Mina brandishes her tray. “I work here.”
“Yes,” I growl. “But why do you work here?”
When she returned the advance, I assumed she had money coming in to take its place. But if she took a second job, I must be missing pieces of the puzzle.
“The same reason anyone works anywhere,” Mina replies dryly. “Some of us have boring lives that need to be maintained. I’ll be right back with the scotch and whiskey neat.”
Mina pivots and practically runs away before I realize I didn’t place my order. She simply knew what I wanted.
And just like that, I know what I want too. Her. Not a break. Not time apart so she can work herself to the bone to prove something I already know. I want her in my life. In my arms. In my bed. In my heart.
