Page 16 of The Holiday Fakers
He frowns at me and turns away. “You got it … yep … yep …”
Panic rises inside me. I’m so out of control of my own life right now.
“Give me the fucking phone, Marv!”
“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about him,” he says to Piper, like I’m a rugrat having a temper tantrum. “He’ll be cool. Okay, speak—what?”
There’s a beat, and Marv’s eyes move to me, as if unwilling to acknowledge that I’m an integral part of this charade.
“Uh … you sure?” Another pause. “Yep, okay.”
He presses the phone against his chest, muffling the microphone. “She wants to talk to you. Don’t fuck it up.”
I shake my head, as if this situation isn’t already totally fucked up.
He reluctantly passes me the phone, and I bring it to my ear. I can’t hear anything on the other end.
“Brody?”
Adrenaline and guilt spear my heart at the sound of her voice, and my free hand tightens into a fist as I will myself to hold it together.
“Bro—”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Silence.
“Are you?—”
“Look—”
“You go?—”
“You speak?—”
Fuck’s sake!I repress a growl of frustration. How can this be so difficult?
Marv’s in my face now, his palms upturned, his expression one of utter incredulity at my incompetence.
“Piper, I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I’ll shut up and let you speak.”
More silence, then she takes a breath. “I … I just want to check that you’re okay with this.”
Her voice is hesitant, and that makes me feel even shittier about myself and this whole ridiculous mess she’s been shoved into.
“I’m fine,” I reply, sounding anything but. “Don’t worry about me.”
Marv throws his hands in the air and stomps over to the window, staring at the street below. I wish he would just fuck off. It’s impossible to have a conversation with him listening in.
“Should I buy you a ticket?” she asks. “For the train and the bus? Or should we hire a car?”
“I’ve got a car. I’ll drive us.”
Marv spins around. “Good idea. Me, Cara, and the stylist can ride with you, too.”
“No, we’re not fucking carpooling,” I grit out.
“I don’t think I can handle him for six hours,” Piper says.
