Page 34 of The Fake Play

“That’s messed up.”

“Yeah but it didn’t take. I’d always sneak off to watch cooking shows or make my action figures get married or?—”

“You mean your dolls?”

She laughs bitterly. “Nope. I meant action figures. I wasn’t allowed to have dolls. But I had every superhero under the sun.”

“Damn.” I take a long pull of my whiskey. “You called him your biological father but not your dad. How come?”

“We had a falling out,” she replies with a measured, lifeless tone.

“So that’s why you go by Keke?”

She nods but whatever warmth I’d earned by our earlier conversation had died a quick death. The mood became cold enough that I knew better than to pull at the dad strand.

Instead, I switch gears. “What's with you choosing all the wrong guys?”

She coughs on her vodka soda while I rub her back. Her words sputter at first. “What do you mean by that?”

“I know that question is code for when a girl is stalling for time.”

“Fine.” A faint blush colors her cheeks as she shrugs. “I guess I have a bad habit of finding projects. Guys I think I can fix or turn around. Big egos looking for validation. Sound familiar?”

“Hey.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Well, no,” I admit. “But still. Hey.”

She grins, purely feline. “You're not the man of mystery you might think you are. I've got your number, Luke.”

“Oh, I'm definitely not a man of mystery. Affable, charming, fun, but not mysterious. I'm an open book but right now I'm trying to read you. So let’s continue. Your dating history, what's up with that?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“You could, but right now we're talking about you. No more stalling.”

She sighs. “There’s really nothing more to be said about that.”

“Would you say you've always been a fixer?”

“I suppose so.”

“You're used to doing all the heavy lifting in a relationship, aren't you? All the emotional labor, fixing the problems.”

She stares at me. “How do you know that?”

“I know your type. Fiercely independent, sharp as a tack. Admirable. But you’ll also end up burning out.”

“I will not?—”

“The bonus of fake dating me? All you have to do ispretendto like me.” I smirk, leaning back as if I know I made my point and throw her a challenging look. “Think you can manage?”

“I can definitely manage you, Luke,” she says, a bit of an edge to her words.

Maybe it’s the whiskey or the dim lighting in Smokey’s, but something tugs at me, drawing me closer to her. Her makeup highlights her soft pink lips, her eyes looking more mysterious somehow. Everything about her is pulling me in.

I rest my arm along the back of her seat, letting my gaze drop to her lips. “You know what? You're better at this than I expected. Since you're not an actress, I mean.”

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