Playing Pretend

As we mingled with the other families, I noticed my mother had relaxed a bit. She even shook more hands and hugged a few kids.

Perhaps Governor Peyton McClain’s heart wasn’t as cold-hearted as it first appeared.

Charlotte

One week later, my mother informed me of another friendly outing during breakfast.

“Do

The knife I had been holding to spread jam on my toast fell from my hand, and it landed on the floor with a loud thud.

My mother stared me, her wide eyes stern. “What was that?”

“N-nothing. I just … got distracted.” I crouched to get the knife, but a maid had already approached me with a clean one. “Thanks,” I said, taking the knife.

“As I was saying,” my mother continued, her hands closed around a steaming cup of coffee. “He likes Indian food. Take him to an Indian restaurant, even if you have to drive to Washington to find one.”

Indian food? I hated Indian food, especially because it made me sick to my stomach. But did my mother care? My mother didn’t even know. In fact, she knew nothing about me. Blind to what was right under her nose, Peyton pretended I was exactly as she wanted me to be, in front of and behind her.

It dawned on me that the way my mother acted during that event for military families, the way my mother talked to the little girl about me, was nothing more than an act. Another disgusting act.

If I missed another hangout time with my friends because of her, Liana would kill me. More important than Liana killing me, I missed spending time with the girls.

An idea bloomed in my mind. It was worth a shot.

I bit the inside of my cheek for a second. “My summer classes just started, Mother, and I already have a big project to work on.”

The brown in my mother’s eyes became flames of indignation. “I’m sure you can work on your project today, before di

I didn’t know whom my father would approve or not. I didn’t get a chance to get to know him that well, to have a sense of the man he was. I was too young to pay attention to details. To me, he had been a good father and a good man. Strict most of the time, but with his sweet moments. However, I knew he would want me to choose someone like Do

“You don’t know that,” I whispered.

My mother’s eyes hardened. “You are going to take Do

I lowered my head, my stomach sinking. “Yes, Mother.”

Charlotte

I descended the stairs with a fake smile on my face. In the foyer, I greeted my mother and Do

Do

The same compliment every time he saw me. Could he change the record? I knew I looked okay. I had gotten ready to look good. I even chose an elegant cocktail dress my mother approved for me to wear. I was politician-taste appropriate.

“Thanks,” I said.

He offered me his arm. I took it and walked outside with him.

“Have a good night,” my mother said from the top of the stairs.

My stomach still revolved each time I thought about what I was doing, so I tried to focus my attention on something else—like the fountain before my house and its glistening water. Or how shiny Do

Anything, everything not to think I was going out with Do

Damn, I was so lost.

I pushed Mason from my thoughts. I had been raised to be a perfect lady. At least on the outside. No one in the world knew what was going on inside.

The smile never left my face as Do

“You look happy today,” Do

Wow, I had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were. True, I hadn’t noticed much of him at all.

“Yes,” I lied. I picked up the menu and ran my eyes over it, even though I already knew what I would order.

Okay, this wasn’t right. I had agreed to this date so I could give him a chance, so he could sweep me off my feet, so I could forget Mason, and so I could live the life my mother wanted me to.

I set down the menu. “How have you been?”

His face brightened. “I’m great. I’m here with you. Work has been great too.” He launched into a detailed retelling of his week and what he was working on with his father.

All the while, I nodded and made sounds like uh and ah whenever it seemed appropriate. Like my mother, Do

During dessert, I tried finding out more about him. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“I play golf.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“The Pelican Brief.”

“TV series?”

“Law and Order, though it’s not a true portrait of court life.”

“Favorite book.”

“Any biography by men of elevated position.”

“Song?”

“Anything by the Beatles.”

I was sure if I went on and asked what the most daring thing he ever did was, he would say that it was when he wore a bright green tie with a beige suit.

The worst part, he didn’t ask me the same questions. So what? He didn’t want to find out more about me? He reached over the table and ran his thumb over my hand. I watched it, expecting a shiver to run up my spine, a heat to settle low in my stomach. Nothing.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling.

I smiled back. “Yes.”

Back at my house, I let him open my door and guide me up the front stairs.

He looked into my eyes. “I had a great night.”

That made one of us. “Me too.”

In slow motion and awkward moves, Do

His lips touched mine in a shy peck. Before he could try more, I pulled back, fighting the urge to wipe my mouth in front of him.

A satisfied grin adorning his face, he clasped my hand, lifted it to his lips, and placed a kiss on my knuckles. “I’ll call you soon.”

“Okay.”

With a skip in his step, Do

As soon as the car drove away, I rushed inside, eager to brush my teeth, even though he barely touched my lips.

Chapter Nine

Mason

My days were sucky. It was only the middle of June and I was already tired of summer. All I did was work some gigs here and there, go to bed late, wake up even later, and try to keep my mind off Charlotte. Two weeks had passed since the last time I had seen her at that damned club, and every waking hour, I had to stop myself from going to the Executive Mansion in Richmond or trying to find out her phone number and calling her.

It was odd how I only thought about Charlotte now, as if I hadn’t had a girlfriend before her. Tamara who?

Since that first ball, when I met Charlotte again, I said no to all other fancy parties that involved politicians. I preferred bartending clubs and reducing the risk of bumping into her again, especially if she could be with that guy, that Do

But I needed more to do. This partying, but not partying life was getting old.