Page 5 of The Holiday Fakers
“Marv,” Brody cuts him off. “I said, you’re fired. It’s time for all of us to get up, walk away, and pretend this never happened.”
“Hey,” I say sharply. “I think it's about time you told me what the hell is going on and why I’ve been dragged into it.”
Brody opens his mouth, then shuts it again, his perfectly soft lips now a hard line before he slumps back into the seat like a petulant teenager.
“Thanks, Piper,” Marv says, as if we’re the only adults in the room. “The thing is, Brody’s been going through some … er, difficulties. It’s been having a suboptimal effect on his career. Are you aware of any of this?”
I sense Brody’s eyes on me, his unspoken question hanging in the air:How much do I know?
The answer? A lot.
“I’m not interested in the lives of celebrities,” I reply, my cheeks heating at the half-truth. Right now, I’m pretending Brody is just an old family friend, not someone whose face is used to sell gossip magazines at the bodega down the block.
Marv lets out a breath and smiles, then leans closer. “There’s this job. A TV series. I’ve hustled hard to even get his name in the mix. It’s different from anything he’s done before and he wants it more than anything. Ever.”
My eyes flick to Brody, wondering how a job could be the most important thing in his life.
He stares at the table, his shoulders hunched like he’s trying to disappear.
“The showrunners,” Marv continues, “they’re not convinced. Think he’s a loose cannon. Unreliable.”
Gaze still lowered, Brody shakes his head.
No matter how angry I am, my stomach still twists. Growing up, he was the sweetest, most?—
“The clock’s ticking, Piper, and that’s why he needsyou. We’ve tried everything else to mend his image and it ain’t worked. So I ran a full-brand audit, flipped the narrative funnel, spitballed until the walls were dripping with ideas, and then—bam! It hit me like a freight train of authenticity.”
He slaps the center of his chest.
“We don’t need more glam. We don’t need another A-lister girlfriend or a TikTok apology tour. We needroots. Nostalgia. Americana! We need Brody King reconnected with his origin story. And that means Hideaway Harbor—andyou. You’re a slice of good ol’ American sweetness and charm that we need to rub all over Brody until he shines again.”
And I’m gone, imagining rubbing against Brody. The heat of his body. The friction between us creating sparks that turn into flames. Our inconvenient clothes no longer exist. They’re burned to ash by the fire of our desire. We’re naked. Rubbing. He?—
“It won’t take much, just a few well-orchestrated photo ops and plenty of candid shots from fans.”
I’m frozen, horrified at where my thoughts just took me. I don’t want to fantasize about Brody. I want to settle down witha nice guy. Someone who’s reliable. Present. Not some over-paid actor who’s so attractive they don’t need to bother with kindness and respect.
“It’ll be in the bag by the time the Christmas decorations come down,” Marv continues. “It has to be, since they start shooting in the beginning of January. We’ve got a good window of time as you’re home for the holidays longer than usual this year.”
“How do you know my travel plans? How do you knowme?”
Suddenly I don’t feel safe. At all.
Marv shrugs, like it’s nothing that he’s been stalking me. “Harper’s socials.”
“Mysister?”
“And Brody.”
What the—? My gaze shoots to him, expecting him to tell me Marv’s talking shit.
He doesn’t. But his cheeks darken, and a muscle ticks in his jaw.
“Brody’s told me about his childhood in Hideaway Harbor, and your family. Hell, he’s even got a?—”
“Marv!” Brody half-shouts.
Marv seems unperturbed.
