Page 52 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
The age-old stomach bug excuse worked to get Julian, and therefore me, out of the hike. Thank god. Figuring out how to create fake vomit for him to plant in his bathroom was a pain, but well worth the payoff. And in the end, Liam got to take my spot. Granted, he didn’t have Julian to flirt with, but I’m sure Mr. Cooke was still pleased.
“We’re hosting a little holiday party tonight. Just us and a couple of friends from Hillsdale. The kids were nagging me up and down this morning asking if I’d invite you all over.”
That’s odd. Julian never mentioned a post-hikeget-together, and if he wanted us to come, why wouldn’t he just text me? Maya pokes me in the ribs, brows quirked as she waits for an answer, but I have nothing to offer her. This makes as little sense to me as it does to her.
“Oh, well, that’s nice of you to offer, but we wouldn’t want to intrude,” Dad replies, already starting to close the door.
“Nonsense!” Mr. Cooke insists, inserting himself more firmly into our doorway, one foot inside the cabin. “The kids are always complaining that our holiday parties are so stuffy, too many country club types. So I thought, what’s the harm in switching it up a bit this year? And no one livens up a party like the Báezes.” He slaps Dad on the shoulder with a hearty chuckle.
“Did he just call us poor?” Maya whispers to me.
Dad pats Mr. Cooke’s hand with enough force for us to hear the slap from the hallway. “We’ll uh…see what we can do.”
“Great. See you then!” Mr. Cooke says before taking off, completely missing the part where we didn’t agree to anything.
Maya pulls me into her room, leaning against the door with a mischievous smirk. “This is perfect.”
“You actuallywantto go?” I go there every day and I don’t want to go.
“Duh, of course I do.” She slaps her hand against my chest for questioning her. “You keep them distracted, and I’ll dig up therealdirt,” she explains while rummaging through the carefully curated selection of crop tops in her dresser.
My body creaks with a new kind of ache as I sink to thefloor. Arguing is pointless when she has her mind set on something. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told her they don’t keep their secrets out in the open. Yet, a part of me hopes I did miss something. A clue or a hint that’ll keep her occupied enough to abandon her latest idea. There’s still a chance that we can make it out of this without hurting anyone but Mr. Cooke.
Still, I can’t shake the undeniable bad feeling surrounding this invitation. And something tells me Maya’s only going to make it worse.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Stop fidgeting; you’re making me nervous.” Maya yanks me down onto the settee beside her. “Have a bacon-wrapped date.”
She holds her overflowing plate of appetizers under my nose, but I wave off the offer. “You don’t think this is weird?”
Everything about this overly formal holiday barbecue is weird. There’s an ice sculpture of a swan in the kitchen, a Bruce Springsteen cover band in the backyard, and no one stationed at the grill. Mr. Cooke’s friends got the memo based on their crisp polos and slightly less-business-casual slacks. Meanwhile, Dad sticks out like a sore thumb in his Tito Puente T-shirt and ol’ reliable grilling shoes. I’d made fun of Maya for breaking outthatjacket, the one that used to belong to Mami, but she’s the only one who’s somewhat up to code, though the violet wig she’s paired with her ensemble makes us stand out more than we already do. It’s kind of nice, actually. The smellof Mami’s perfume comes in lilac waves every time there’s a slight breeze. A calming anchor in a sea of uncertainty.
“It’s super weird, but I’m not here to have a good time.” Maya pushes a mini slider to the edge of her plate so she can sample the potato salad. “I’m here to mooch, dig through their dirty laundry, and bounce.”
“But we haven’t seen Julian, Stella,orHenry yet,” I reply, peeking over the crowd gathered by the bar for any sight of the people who supposedly “begged” for us to be here. Liam’s here, of course, decked out in his Vineyard Vines best. He’s just too busy sticking to Mr. Cooke like a leech to antagonize me.
“Don’t worry.” Maya waves me off, keeping her attention focused on the gaggle of gossiping women opposite us. She’s been eavesdropping on their conversation about their pack leader Evelyn’s affair for the past ten minutes. “They’re probably off doing rich kid things like grooming their horses or ironing their Burberry socks.”
Andy returns to us with a plate so loaded he can barely keep his French fries from spilling over. “Dev, this place is amazing. How come you never let us join you?” He squeezes himself between me and Maya, double-fisting a barbecue slider and a buffalo chicken wrap.
“It’s not usually this exciting,” I mumble, propping my chin up on my fist.
My text to Julian from earlier is still unread:
Hey, what’s the deal with this party?
If he wanted me here so badly, why is he avoiding me like the plague?
Or maybe he doesn’t want you here,I remind myself. There arestill two other siblings in this family who could’ve invited us. Though Stella and Henry can’t stand seeing me during the week. Why invite all of us on their day off from my presence?
Maya gasps, clutching her heart when Evelyn reveals that her lover is none other than her sister’s husband. “Rich people really live like they’re in a telenovela,” Maya whispers.
Across the room, Dad and Isabel wrap up their latest conversation, their smiles falling the second they turn around. Unlike the rest of us, they’ve been doing a remarkable job of acting like they wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. They trudge over to us, downing the last of their champagne.
“This is exhausting,” Isabel mutters. “¿El siempre es así?” She juts her chin toward where Mr. Cooke and a gaggle of balding white men are comparing their Rolexes.
“Yep,” Dad, Maya, and I answer at the same time. Confirming that, yes, he is always this obnoxious.
