Page 17 of The Holiday Fakers
“You and me both.”
“And we need to talk, to get our stories straight.”
What does she mean by that? We’re not going to tell her family we’re faking it?
“Yeah, sure,” I reply. “Can you message Marv with your address and what time to pick you up on the sixteenth?”
“Oh … okay.”
I hear the hurt in her voice. What have I done now?
“Piper?”
“Yes?”
“Have I said something wrong? Not at the coffee shop, where I said everything wrong. I mean just now.”
Again, there’s a painful silence before she finally speaks.
“Am I not important enough to know your number?”
“What?”
“Well, you changed it years ago and didn’t give any of us the new one. And now I have to go through Marv to get in touch with you?”
Oh fuck. “No! Of course you can have it. I just didn’t know if you wanted me to have yours. Hang on. I’ll message it to you now.”
I don’t wait for a reply, immediately bringing the phone down and sending her my contact details.
“Call me anytime you want,” I say. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Christ, this conversation couldn’t be any more stilted and awkward if we tried.
“I’m gonna go now,” she says quietly. “I’ll send you my address.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Brody.”
“Bye.”
She hangs up and I stare at the phone screen.
A slow hand clap breaks the silence.
“And the Oscardoesn’tgo to … Brody Fucking King.” Marv jabs his finger in my direction. “You’d better up your game when you get to Hideaway Harbor. You’ve got to sell it, or people will know it’s fake, and you’ll be in even deeper shit than you already are.”
I head back to the couch and collapse onto it, simultaneously wired and exhausted. I feel my thirty-one years like they’ve been doubled. What the hell am I doing? Who evenamI anymore?
The couch shifts as Marv sits down. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”
“You’re still fired.”
He pats my knee. “Yeah, yeah. Just wait till the New Year, huh? When you’ve got the job and everything’s coming up freaking roses again.”
I huff. If roses need shit to bloom, then my life’s got more than enough right now.
