The Game (3 page)

"Well?" I asked.

"Please take some time to cover yourself up, Robert," she said turning her back toward me. "I can't take you seriously like that."

I thought about refusing. After all, she was the one who barged into my bedroom. Let her stew in discomfort. But then I realized that I'd be equally as uncomfortable. Despite my anger and irritation, it was much too awkward to have a conversation with my mother covered only by a pillow. I got off the bed and slipped on my bathrobe.

"You can turn around now," I said, taking a seat on the bench by the bay windows.

My mother faced me and walked forward, scanning my room and the discarded clothes on the floor distastefully. "I suppose I'll have to find a new party planner for your father and my anniversary party," she said.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" I asked.

A look of annoyance crossed her face. "Alicia. The woman who just scurried out of your room half dressed."

"What does she have to do with anything?"

She looked at me disbelievingly but quickly schooled her features. "She was our party planner," she said.

"Oh." The memory of last night came rushing back to me--running into Alicia at my parent's townhouse, and later meeting up with her at Synergy.

"Really Robert, you disappoint me. How long can you live like this?" she began.

It was the same old refrain I'd heard for the past year. Ever since my cousin Roman had announced he was getting married, my mother had been like a woman on a mission. She'd been pressuring me to settle down as well, as if I would be so foolish as to follow in Roman's footsteps.

"As long as I'm still breathing," I said.

I blew out a weary sigh, but tried to keep my voice light and casual. I'd had this conversation so many times, it felt like I was reading a script. The lines had been etched into my memory. Now my mother would start in on how happy Roman was. And then she'd bring up the fact that my close friend, Ryan, had recently gotten engaged as well.

"Don't you want to be happy?" she asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You're already 35-years-old. At your age your father and I had been married for close to ten years, and had already had you and your sister."

"I am happy," I said.

"How can anybody be happy without a family--kids!"

Here we go again
, I thought. It always came back to grandkids. "You know your father and I aren't getting any younger. We won't be around forever."

"I can give you grandkids without getting married," I said.

She sucked in a sharp gasp. "How can you even say such things, Robert! Your father always said I spoiled you when you were younger, and now I see he may have been right. You've had your way for far too long. Now it's time for you to grow up and settle down."

"Why don't you go bother Stella about getting married? She can give you grandkids too, you know."

I knew I sounded petulant and immature, but there was just something about speaking with my mother that turned me back into that bratty little boy I used to be. I hated to be told what to do and when to do it, even if it was the best thing for me. I always rebelled against it, and my mother should have known by now that her nagging was only driving me to do the opposite of what she wanted.

"Don't try to change the subject, Robert. We're talking about you. Now I've given you more than enough time and chances to sort out your own life. I can see that hasn't changed anything, and now I'm forced to take drastic measures," she said.

I sat up from my bench and pinned her with a scowl. "What are you talking about?"

"You obviously cannot be relied upon to find yourself a bride. So that leaves it up to me, as your mother, to see to the matter."

"Don't even dare. I'm a grown man, and I won't have you interfering in my personal life. Now I've tolerated your constant complaints and nagging so far, but here you're stepping over the line."

"I give you six months to find a nice suitable woman. If you don't, then I'll have to take matters into my own hands," she said before walking toward me briskly and giving me a peck on the cheek. I was so stunned, I sat there motionless. I couldn't form any words or do anything but just stare at her blankly as she turned around and walked toward the door.

"Oh and by the way, do try to tidy up in here; it's a pig sty. And I'll send Mara over with some ginger tea for your hangover."

With that she opened the door and stepped out, closing it with a loud thud. Once the door was closed, I snapped out of my stupor. The realization of what she said flooded over me, and I felt my blood pressure starting to climb, as my heart beat thudded in my chest. I was halfway out of my chair, on the verge of chasing her down and giving her a piece of my mind, but then plunked back down in my seat.

Whenever my mother got one of her wild notions, it was virtually impossible to talk her out of it. I would have had more success trying to talk to a brick wall. The only one she ever listened to was my father, and even then, only rarely. I knew my father wouldn't offer to step in on my behalf. He got too much enjoyment watching me squirm. And besides, I didn't doubt that he wanted grandkids very badly as well. Still, the thought that my mother would...
do something
...rankled. There must be something I could do to stop her.

***

"It's your own fault, you know," my sister, Stella, said as she poured me a cup of coffee.

Once I'd calmed down and gotten showered and dressed, I headed over to her flat. I needed someone to vent my frustrations to. Since all my friends seemed to be getting coupled up, Stella was the only one I could talk to. She knew the lengths my mother would go to better than anyone.

"How is any of this my fault?" I asked.

"You just relish throwing it in her face how much of a bachelor you are. Why don't you try a different approach?" she suggested.

"Why doesn't she butt out of my business? I mean, she actually walked in on me with a girl. You should have seen how she frightened poor Alicia when she barged in."

"Alicia? The party planner?" Stella asked.

I took another sip of coffee ignoring Stella's question and avoiding eye contact. Even so, I could feel her glare on me.

"Of all the people, Rob! You could have at least gone for someone not on the payroll."

"That's not the point," I said, brushing aside her criticism. "For goodness' sake! I'm 35 years old; you'd think she'd have realized I'm an adult, and no longer tied to her apron strings."

"You'll always be a child in her eyes. That's just how mothers operate," Stella said calmly.

"It's really the outside of enough!" I continued to rant. "How many times do I have to tell her I'm not interested in settling down, until she gets the message? If she continues down this route, I've half a mind to stay single forever just to spite her."

Stella took a sip of her tea, rolling her eyes at me over the rim of her mug. "You're being a little bit over dramatic, don't you think?" she asked.

"You say that now, but wait until she starts in on you and then you'll be singing a different tune."

"Oh, I doubt that. Mum knows she can't rile me up as easily as you. I'm too clever for her machinations," Stella said, a smug smile on her lips.

"And what would you have done in my place?" I asked. "Don't tell me you'd grin and bear it patiently."

"Of course not!" she scoffed. "But I wouldn't fly off at the handles either."

"What would you have done, then?" I asked.

"I'd give her a taste of her own medicine," she said.

I leaned back in my chair and looked her over doubtfully. She sat calmly, holding her mug in both hands, a beatific smile on her face--the picture of pure innocence. Stella had always been the epitome of decorum and class, but only those close to her knew of the streak of deviousness that ran in her. Perhaps she was right and I did have to change tactics. All my protests and belly aching were getting me nowhere. Maybe it was time to give my mother a taste of her own medicine.

"All right," I said. "I'll bite. What should I do?"

"Get engaged," she said.

I choked on the sip of coffee I had just taken. "Are you out of your mind?" I spluttered.

"Think about it, Rob. She wants you to get engaged. So give her what she thinks she wants. But make sure it's to someone so wholly unsuitable, she'll regret ever pressuring you to get married in the first place."

I took a moment to digest Stella's words. A slow smile spread across my lips as I realized the brilliance of her plan. "My God, you're amazing!" I said in awe. "Who knew such a brilliant, scheming mind lay inside that pretty little head of yours?"

"Don't thank me just yet. The hard part is finding someone who will agree to this scheme. She can't just be any woman," she cautioned. "She's got to be discreet, believable as your fiancé, and someone Mum would absolutely loathe. And I'm guessing you'd prefer someone attractive."

My smile faltered a bit as the truth of her words struck me. Where on earth would I find someone like that?

"What about Teresa Ashford?" I suggested after a while.

Stella snorted before placing her mug down on the table in a loud clatter. "You've clearly lost your mind. Messy Tessy is not one to be messed with. She's had her eye on you for years. If you're not careful, you might end up married to her for real," she warned.

Stella was right, of course. I knew as soon as I suggested her that it'd be a mistake. Teresa Ashford had one goal in life, and that was to land a rich husband. She'd been known to use any tactic necessary to accomplish her goal, but so far no luck. I wasn't about to hand myself to her on a silver platter.

"Lavinia Marsh?" I suggested.

"Loopy Lavvy? You can't be serious," Stella scoffed.

"Do you have a nickname for everyone?" I asked in growing exasperation.

"Only the batshit crazy ones," Stella said. "You need someone completely unexpected. Mum would be on to your game if you told her you'd just gotten engaged to Lavinia or Teresa. She'd know hell would have to freeze over first before you took that step."

Stella was right again, though I hated to admit it. For this plan to work, I had to pick someone my mother would never expect. Someone who would be believable. I stood up and paced Stella's small living room, as I wracked my brain trying to think of anyone who fit the bill. My eyes landed on a copy of a celebrity magazine, and I stopped. I snatched up the copy and flipped through the pages, scanning the accompanying article. With each word, my hope soared.
She was perfect!

"It's her!" I said holding up the magazine for Stella's perusal.

Her eyebrows lifted as she reached for it. "Didn't you used to have a thing with her?" she asked.

"Yes, well sort of," I said. "It was a minor flirtation, nothing serious. She broke it off to go shoot a movie. Anyway, she's perfect. I don't know why I didn't think of her sooner. I mean she's an actress, for crying out loud. Mum would hate that."

"What makes you think she'll agree? She seems to have enough on her plate, judging by this article, without having to deal with a fake engagement."

"We'll see about that," I said smiling smugly.

Chapter 3: Rob

I sat down on a plush couch at the Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood after arriving a few days ago. It had taken me just as long to track Emilia Holliday down. The number she had given to me when we first met almost a year ago was no longer in service. I had to get the number from my friend, Ryan, who was currently traveling. His fiancée, Mel, worked with Emilia as her stylist.

It had been difficult keeping the purpose of my visit a secret. Ryan had been annoyingly nosy, something I'd normally not attribute to him. I had decided to keep my plans a secret for now. The last thing I needed was for him to butt in and mess things up for me.

I looked up when the door opened, and Emilia strolled in. She looked stunning in a little black dress. Her long black hair hung loose down past her shoulders. I'd forgotten how attractive she was in person. There was just something about her that couldn't be captured in a photograph.

Ever since the moment I first laid eyes on her, I'd always found Emilia beautiful. At the time, I thought she and Ryan were a couple, so I kept my distance. Later when I realized they weren't together, we began a light flirtation. Things never progressed beyond calling, texting, and some innocent stolen kisses.

She left for a movie shoot before things could take off. I was slightly disappointed at the time, but brushed it off quickly. She was just another girl, after all, but seeing her again reminded me of just what had captured my attention in the first place. If I were a different man, I could easily see myself falling for her for real. But I knew that wasn't going to happen, so I had no qualms about having her pose as my fiancée.

She smiled when she saw me and reached in to kiss my cheek.

"Rob! It's so good to see you again," she said.

"Likewise," I replied. "You look amazing as usual."

She batted her eyelashes at me and sat down on the chair opposite mine. "Always the charmer. So what brings you to LA?" she asked.

"You, actually," I said, scooting forward on my seat.

She lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow and fixed me with her big blue eyes. "Oh?"

"Yes, I've been thinking about you a lot lately," I said. I figured I should try to butter her up some before I asked for her help. After all, I hadn't seen her for several months.

Her smile faltered slightly. I couldn't tell if it was in disappointment or irritation, but plowed on regardless.

"You see--"

"Hold up," she said, holding up her hands in front of her. "I appreciate you coming to see me after all this time, but I have to be honest with you. I was actually about to call you myself."

"You were?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm just going to cut right to the chase. I'm sure you've heard the news about me and Harry Barnes. It's not true, by the way, but when has the truth ever mattered," she added bitterly. "Anyway, I find myself in a bit of a pickle. You see, I need to ask you a favor."