Page 9 of Fake You

I watched as he dug a dog-eared piece of paper out of his pocket and laid it on the table, peering down at it as though it was the most significant thing to ever have been written.

“Well, I can’t keep up with updating it, it all changes so quickly. Elsie died just last night, so that’s another one bites the dust. Like I said, it’s an impossible task.”

“I can see how that could be tiring, but if you’d just let me type the whole thing up for you, you wouldn’t have to be walking around with a piece of paper so thin, it looks like Kleenex.”

“And then what? Every time I need to update it, I have to call you? That’s a fucking joke. I can never get ahold of you.”

He had a point, but I didn’t appreciate him guilting me about the fact that I was busy sometimes. Okay, so I was busy a lot. I fought the urge to argue with him about it, though. He was right about the fact that life really was too short. I looked at the ragged piece of paper.

“Shirley. Is that the lady whose granddaughter you tried to set me up with?” And with whom I had the most epically terrible first date in the entire history of first dates.

“Yeah that’s the one, she’s still going strong, and she still wants me.” I fought back a snicker. It was true. That woman was sex-crazed, and from what I could tell, she’d been after Grampsie since the dawn of time—always had her eye on him even when Gamma was still alive, then went into overdrive to try to snag him once he was widowed.

I was pretty sure that the whole thing about setting me up with her God-awful, dirt-stupid granddaughter was more about getting into Grampsie’s jocks than anything. She was angling for a double date between the four of us, the thought of which still made me vomit in my mouth a little. Grampsie was only marginally keener than I was, and I thought that was more about ego than actually liking Shirley.

I didn’t dare ask about the granddaughter, but Grampsie must have read my mind.

“That hideous girl, Grace, is it? Ironic name, given she’s about as graceful as a lame goat. Shirley told me she’s engaged. No doubt to a guy who’s equally horse-faced and just as dim as she is.” That was another thing I loved about Grampsie—he pulled no punches. “They’ll be married and putting dim little horse-faced versions of themselves out into the world to irritate the rest of us in no time.” Burn. A person did not want to get on Grampsie’s bad side—his tongue was as sharp as a Samurai sword.

“Hmm... no doubt. And what about this Kevin person? What’s his deal?” It was a not at all subtle segue, but if I didn’t cut in, Grampsie’d talk all day, and I’d never get the question asked. He stopped mid-bite of steak and gave me the side-eye.

“What about him? You interested?” It took me way too long to realize what he was getting at.

“What the fuck? No. I’m not gay.”

“Listen, son, there’s no shame in it in this day and age. In fact it’s really kind of en vogue from what I hear. Even when I was your age, and in the Navy, there were two guys, Colin and Allen, it was never spoken about, but we all knew they were in love. I never had a problem with it even in those days, and I still don’t now. As far as I’m concerned, it’s really nobody’s business where you stick your dick. If you’re into men, that’s nobody’s concern but your own.” Fuck. Me. Dead.

Grampsie’s voice was loud at the best of times, even more so the older and deafer he got, so his penchant for telling it like it was, really was a liability at times. It was just my luck that his announcement about my supposed love of dick coincided with a general lull in conversation in the dining room, and suddenly a roomful of ancient eyes was casting sidelong glances at me. Great.

“I’m not gay, but thanks for faux outing me to the entire club. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay if I was, of course.”

“Well, you need to know that despite his pretty boy looks, he doesn’t bat for your team. He’s been on a few dates with the granddaughters of some of the members.” What. In. The. Actual. Fuck? “Nothing seems to have stuck as far as relationships are concerned, but you’re definitely barking up the wrong tree.” Jesus Christ. Kill. Me. Now.

“Grampsie, for the love of God, would you please just listen to what I’m saying. I’m not barking up his tree, or any dude’s, for that matter. I like women. A lot. I was asking on a purely professional basis. Like, just how much did you know about him before you hired him?”

“What do you mean, what did I know? I knew everything I needed to. He’d been working here at the club for over a year, and came highly recommended. He still works here three days a week, and the others he’s with me. He’s honest and reliable, and plays a mean round of golf, if this one—” He nodded toward Martin “—isn’t available. We also share a similar sense of humor. But most importantly, he’s here week in, week out, which is more than I can say for you.”

I didn’t have the heart to point out the fact that “Kevin” was there for Grampsie because he was being paid to be.

Chapter 6

Kik

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m warning you, stay away from my family, everyone in my family, or I swear to God, I’ll whoop your ass like you’re the dude you’re pretending to be.”

I hadn’t seen or heard him coming, but one moment I was walking around the staff area about to warm my lunch in the microwave, the next I was being pushed hard against the wall, with a hand in a vise-like grip around my neck.

It took a few moments for my brain to catch up with, and make sense of, what was happening to my body, and longer for it to deliver any kind of meaningful response. Even then, meaningful was being generous. As my eyes bugged and watered, and I struggled to breathe, I clawed at the hand.

“Let go of me… before I… kick you in the… junk.” I squirmed, fighting for breath. As the words formed, they left my body in sporadic bursts, like scattered gunfire.

Clearly something I’d said had been funny, as his angry face contorted into what could best be described as a maniacal leer, but was probably supposed to pass for a smile.

“I’d like to see you try, little girl. Look at me, and look at you. I know who I’d put money on coming out better if we went at it.” He had a point.

As I’d noticed the first night at the bar, he was built like a truck—his muscles had muscles on their muscles. The fact was, the way things were going, he could crush my windpipe, and it would be all over. But it was also true that there was no way I was going to stand back and let that happen without a fight—my dad needed me, and I owed it to him not to go out like that.

I ran through my options. He was right about the kick to the junk. Even if I hadn’t let him know my intention, he was standing just far enough away that as soon as I lifted my leg, he’d be wise to what I was trying to do, and block me, or off me, anyway.

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