The Game (11 page)

"Ma! Come on, why are you making such a big scene? I'm sure Rob doesn't want to feel like a circus animal at a zoo," Emilia complained.

"Who said anything about circus animals? I just wanted him to meet Grandpa. You don't mind do you?" she asked looking at me.

"Not at all," I said, smiling politely.

Emilia looked up at me with narrowed eyes and my smile widened even more. It was a universal truth that at any age, parents could still be embarrassing. I knew from firsthand experience how true that was. Still, it was a nice change of pace to see Emilia around people who didn't give a damn that she was a movie star.

I had to remember not to give Emilia too hard of a time since our own meeting with my mother and family was looming ahead. At that thought, I composed my face in a more respectable, somber look, and tried to look politely interested.

Grandpa Jimmy was a leathery old firecracker. I'd been expecting some hunched over, frail looking man, but this guy was like Jack LaLanne on steroids. He strutted into the room and headed straight for the couch, where he pulled Emilia up and spun her around in circles. She laughed unrestrainedly, and it was such a nice change of pace to see her looking so genuinely happy and relaxed, that I didn't notice when he'd put her down. He pulled me up to my feet, and started throwing jabs at my torso. I assumed he thought it was a playful manner, but it really hurt.

"And who is this guy right here who thinks he's good enough for my granddaughter?" he asked still throwing punches. The first few punches surprised me, and I groaned in shock, but was soon able to fend him off.

"Grandpa! Stop that!" Emilia said.

Grandpa Jimmy thankfully let up on his assault and reached around my neck to pull me in. "Aw sweetheart, I was just playing. They were just light taps, right Sonny?" he asked me, rubbing the top of my head with his knuckles. It was an awkward position to be in since he was a good half foot shorter than me, so I had to twist my neck down.

"Of course," I grunted.

Grandpa Jimmy finally released me, but that wasn't going to be the end of it, it seemed. Word had already got around that Emilia and I had arrived, and now a new slew of guests came pouring in from the kitchen and other areas of the house. I had no idea how so many people could fit in such a small space. It reminded me of a clown car; except it was a house, and these people weren't wearing rubber noses or face paint.

"Auntie!" A young girl came whirling toward us and threw her arms around Emilia's waist. I didn't get a good look at her. All I saw was a blur of black hair and pink dress. She must have been around 10 years old. Emilia let out the second genuine smile I'd seen as she picked up the girl and showered her with hugs and kisses.

"Sammy! I've missed you so much!" Emilia said.

"I've missed you too! Come on, I want to show you my new room. Nana let me redecorate it!" she said, grabbing Emilia's hand and leading her away.

I stood there watching their backs as they made their way out of the living room, toward the stairs. Emilia threw me an apologetic look and shrugged, before she climbed the steps behind Sammy.

Wonderful
, I thought miserably. I was stuck with her family now. It wasn't as if I didn't like them, but I'd never encountered any one like them before. They were all so loud, and brash, and in your face. As if proving my point, Emilia's mother grabbed my hand again and led me around the room to introduce me to everyone. And I meant everyone. After the 30th person, my eyes began to glaze over. We finally made it to a slight, older woman sitting in one of those E-Z chairs by the fireplace.

"And this is Grandma Claire," Carmen introduced.

"It's nice to meet you," I began, rehashing the same lines I'd used on the dozens of other people I'd already met.

"Have a seat my dear," she said, pointing out the E-Z chair next to her.

I sat down and leaned back. It was actually quite a comfortable chair. "Now tell me how you and Gina met," she said.

I cocked my head and looked at her in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Emilia's real name is Gina Marie," her mother added. "Gina Marie Scarzotti."

"I didn't know that," I admitted.

"Not many people do. I don't know why she changed it to Emilia Holliday once she went out to Hollywood. Gina Marie's a perfectly good name," her mother said, sounding a little miffed.

"Honey, why don't you go get the photo album. You know the brown leather one," Grandma Claire interrupted.

Carmen's eyes lit up and she nodded her head. Once she had gone, Emilia's grandmother turned to me and looked at me expectantly. "You still haven't answered my question," she said.

"I'm sorry. I got distracted for a minute there. Emilia--er--Gina Marie and I met about a year ago through mutual friends. My friend Ryan introduced us actually," I said.

It wasn't a lie exactly, but I certainly wasn't going to tell this woman the whole truth. She seemed so kind and old and innocent. I couldn't imagine what her reaction would be if I really told her about our fake engagement, and our real reasons for doing it.

She looked at me skeptically before nodding her head. "And what took you two so long to finally get together?" she asked.

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, wondering if she somehow knew about our little scheme. She seemed very perceptive and much less innocent than I'd originally thought. And the way she was looking at me made me feel like she could somehow read my mind. It was the same look my mother gave me when I was a child and had gotten into trouble.

"We--uh--just met up again and realized that we were perfect for each other," I said.

It sounded lame and unbelievable to my own ears, and I cursed myself for getting so flustered. I'd never been flustered in my life. Especially not in the face of an 80 something year old woman. It was preposterous.

She arched a delicate eyebrow at me, letting me know she didn't buy my story for one second. Thankfully Carmen came back at that moment with the photo album and then some.

"I took these too, Ma," she said pointing out two smaller white albums with some lace trim. "Now, you're gonna love these Robbie," she said turning back to me. "Did I ever tell you what a beautiful child Gina Marie was?"

"No, but I can believe it," I said, feeling a genuine smile cross my lips. I was actually looking forward to getting a glimpse of what Emilia was like as a child. Normally the whole idea of sitting down with a girl's mother and grandmother looking over old family photos would send me running for the hills, but surprisingly not in this case.

Carmen took the big brown album and cracked it open first. A picture of Gina Marie as a newborn in a hospital greeted us. She lay asleep in her mother's arms as her father, who looked much younger and more fit, kissed the top of her head.

"That was the day she was born," Carmen explained. "She was a big baby. Almost ten pounds. I swore after that day, I'd never have kids again. No epidural, can you imagine?"

No, I couldn't imagine, I thought, but nodded my head at her politely instead. "That was some feat. My mother says the same thing about my birth," I said.

"Were you a big baby too?" Carmen asked.

"I think I was just over ten pounds," I said.

"Good lord. Then you and Gina Marie will have big babies. Poor girl, she's so tiny and petite too," Carmen said shaking her head.

Her words left me speechless. The idea of Emilia being pregnant--having my baby--had never ever crossed my mind. Babies were something, like marriage, that I tried to avoid like the plague. But now that Carmen had mentioned it, I found that I wasn't completely horrified by the thought. In fact, quite the opposite. I imagined a little girl with Emilia's dark hair and blue eyes, and her fiery temper and smiled to myself.
Crazy
!

I looked up to see Grandma Claire watching me with shrewd eyes, and I felt exposed. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but I wasn't quite sure I wanted to find out. Thankfully, she kept her thoughts to herself.

Carmen continued to flip through the pictures, explaining each one in detail. I listened attentively and made the appropriate comments when prompted, but for the most part, tried to keep a detached air about it.

The thoughts of a pregnant Emilia were much too disturbing to my equilibrium. It was just the lizard part of my brain that was acting up, I told myself. I was in no way, shape, or form ready to be a parent. Especially to Emilia's child. The idea was insane. We weren't even really engaged.

Emilia found us like that, sitting by the fireplace, looking at her old family photos. Her face flushed and she looked at her mother and grandmother in dismay. "I can't believe you two brought out the old photo albums!" she complained.

"What? What's wrong with looking at them? You were such a cute baby," Carmen said, as if that excused everything.

"Ma!" Emilia said dragging out the word into a whine.

I couldn't help the smile on my lips seeing her interacting with her mother. Her face took on more animation and even her voice sounded different. Instead of the light, well-modulated, and polished American accent I'd always assumed was her natural voice, she took on the same accent as those around her--dropping g's and changing r's to uh's. It was all very interesting, and I was sure she didn't even notice she was doing it. Her family obviously doted on her, but they also took the piss out of her quite often as well. She became, if anything, even more appealing because she was so genuine.

We left the party after dinner and dessert, Emilia citing an early business meeting the next morning. Her family seemed reluctant to see us go, and for a minute I was half afraid they somehow manage to convince us to stay the night, but Emilia stood her ground. We were on the road back toward Emilia's Manhattan apartment just before midnight.

Chapter 13: Rob

"That was quite interesting," I said, turning to her once we were on the road.

She let out a weary sigh and closed her eyes. "Maybe for you," she said. "It was exhausting."

Her voice reverted back to her crisp, neutral accent, and I was partly sad to see it go.

"You didn't enjoy yourself?" I asked. "Your family seemed so nice and welcoming."

"No, I did. I haven't seen them for a few years, and it was actually nice to see some familiar faces, but there's only so much I can take. Every time I'm around them, I feel like a kid again," she said.

I laughed. "I noticed that, but I liked them. I actually enjoyed myself more than I thought I would. Especially the walk down memory lane."

"I'm sure you did," she said wryly.

"It's true, I learned a lot about you. You really are another person when you're around them. It was nice to see."

"You mean I was loud and obnoxious," she said.

"No, I didn't say that. You were genuine, not trying to pose for the cameras or put on a fake persona for the press. I don't know why you choose to hide behind this persona you've created. I think the real Gina Marie is much more interesting," I said.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. I learned very early on that if I wanted to get ahead in life, I had to lose as many of those traits as possible--especially the accent."

"Your family must have been very surprised. I can't imagine what they must have thought about their little Gina Marie transforming herself into this whole other person," I said laughing.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. Her expression was grave and I felt the smile slip off my face. "You might think it's one big joke, but I don't really think my relationship with my family is a laughing matter. There's a very good reason why I don't go home that often," she said.

I waited, expecting her to elaborate, but she just sat there staring out the window. "What reason?" I finally asked, unable to stand the silence.

"You only saw one side of my family tonight. They weren't always so loving and gracious. When I was younger, my parents kicked me out of the house after I got caught drinking and expelled from school. I was only 14 years old at the time. I stayed with friends, hopping from couch to couch, but they didn't give a fuck."

She stopped to take a breath and then plowed on, keeping her eyes straight ahead. "My dad was a raging alcoholic and I remember these loud, knockdown, drag out fights he and my mom used to get into. She threatened to leave him so many times and take us with her, but she never did. I wished she did though. I grew up hating the both of them. So when I was 15 and got spotted by a modeling scout, I left and never looked back."

"It doesn't sound like it's all water under the bridge to you."

"It was a long time ago. Don't get me wrong, I love them, but I don't ever want to be like them."

"I had no idea," I said quietly.

"No one usually does," she said. "Anyway, I don't like to talk about it much. They seemed to have gotten their shit together now and it's all in the past, I guess."

I admired the strength it took for her to get past her upbringing and become the person she was now. There was a lot more to her than I initially gave her credit for. She had managed to make a life for herself and accomplish so much at such a young age, and all while having to overcome so many obstacles. I felt almost ashamed of the things I'd complained about growing up, like not being able to go to parties and clubs when I was a teenager. She'd been homeless.

I don't know what made me do it. Maybe it was the conversation we'd just had, or the way her hair was swept over her shoulder, exposing her delicate neck, or how she bit her lip and looked up at me with such luminous blue eyes, or the fact that we were stopped at a red light, but I kissed her then. There were no cameras or witnesses around to capture the moment. No purpose to the kiss other than the fact that I wanted to do it. I'd wanted to do it all night, maybe even longer than that. Probably since our last kiss.

She rounded her lips in shock at the unexpected contact at first, but then relaxed and opened up to me. I could feel her hesitation melting away, and a voice in the back of my mind warned me I was treading on dangerous ground. But I ignored it. This felt too right, too good, for me to stop. I couldn't do it even if I wanted to.