13. Sophie

thirteen

Sophie

The next morning, I’m up before the sun rises, ready to fly back to Mapleton. I didn’t need to leave because of my schedule, but I’ve learned it’s better to avoid public crowds. I sip the coffee I made in the little coffee maker, but it’s weak and tasteless, and I can’t wait for the strong stuff from the coffee shop that my driver always has ready for me. As I make a final sweep of the hotel room, checking for forgotten items in the bathroom, I can’t help but feel heavy this morning.

I’m not depressed, but I don’t have the satisfactory glow I assumed I’d have from showing up at that event with a handsome date. It doesn’t even have anything to do with Rocco’s bidding on my date. That’s just Rocco being Rocco. I more or less feel like I’m already over the drama. Maybe the press never will be, but I know my truth. I don’t need to put on a show for Rocco or anyone else—other than my concerts of course, but I get paid to do that. I’m ready to put this stupid fake-dating thing behind me. I’m already adding it to my list of been there, done that, and things I’ll never do again.

My phone vibrates right as I drop my makeup bag into my suitcase. I don’t even need to confirm who it is, because Bailey is always on top of things. I push the button to send the call to the speaker phone as it’s way too early for FaceTime. “Morning, Bails,” I ring out. I’m the only one of us who thinks the play on Frere Jacques is funny, but I do it every morning.

“Morning, Sophs. Making sure you don't oversleep.”

“No, wide awake and almost out the door.” I plop down on the edge of my bed, taking a moment to rest.

“You didn’t happen to see the latest news about your love affair, did you?”

“Now what?” I smile each time I hear that I’m in a love affair. If only people knew that we hardly knew each other.

“I guess some guy got photos of you going into your room last night, and you were walking like half a hallway ahead of him and didn’t even look at him. It looks very stiff. He’s calling your whole relationship a scam for publicity.”

My stomach drops, and even though I perfectly heard what she said, I say, “What did you say?”

“He claims he has proof you’re fake-dating Axl, and the photos he has posted are way different than the other ones you have. These look like you don’t even know each other.” A heavy sigh floats over the phone before she tacks on, “People will do anything to get their two minutes of fame.”

“Right.” I freeze, knowing how bad this will be if it gets outed as a scam. Axl and I would more than likely lose a majority of our fan bases. “Some people have the wildest ideas.” My voice is flat as I try to sound as bored of this story as I can.

“In other news,” Bailey goes on, “I know it’s early for bad news, but I want to catch you before you get busy. I’m having a hard time rescheduling your concerts. I guess the venues don’t want to take the risk, because your ticket sales weren’t that great the first time.”

“Oh really?” I scratch my cheek, replaying the inflections in her voice, searching for a hint of her leaving something out to protect me. “Did they say anything else? I do have a contract to perform there.”

“No big announcement from either place. They both said their schedules were filled, which I understand being short notice. However, if we don’t reschedule, we are looking at refunding ticket sales. That could cost the tour a lot of money. I’ll have to talk to finance, but your ticket sales were down for most of this tour. I’m not sure you were that much money ahead to cover a huge payback like this.”

“Well, aren’t you the bringer of good news this morning?” I force a laugh to keep it light, but I don’t feel light at all. I don’t worry about my bank account, but I have a huge tour crew, and they all deserve to be compensated well. I had promised them profit-sharing bonuses if they stayed through the whole tour. If I have to pay back two whole concerts worth of tickets, I might not have the funds for bonuses, and that just stinks. Now, I’m too anxious to sit, and I slide off the bed, pacing up and down the narrow aisle by my bed.

“It’ll be fine,” Bailey says, lifting her tune. “I haven’t given up on getting them rescheduled, just letting you know what I’m working on while you're off on romantic trips with your new hunk.”

“Right.” My jaw clenches as I force a breezy tone.

I’m so glad we aren’t on FaceTime right now. This is not the news I need to hear. My tour lost all its profits, and my publicity-seeking stunt has already been outed as a scam. Great way to start the day.

“Well, have a safe flight, and I’ll touch base later.” Bailey’s voice gets quieter with each word, as if she’s pulling the phone away from her mouth.

“Bye.” I doubt she hears me, because the line is already dead. I wrap my hand around my suitcase handle, tugging it out of the door. I’m glad we are leaving in the dark. I don’t have it in me to fake this right now.

Apparently, my faking looks fake.

It’s a lot harder than it looks.

Axl and I make it back to the plane without saying much of anything to each other. I want to ask if he knew about the news story, but I don’t have the stomach to apologize for my failures right now. Once we get on the plane, it seems Axl has other plans than solitude. “He’s a loser, you know.”

“Pardon me?” I glance up from my phone and find him gazing at me with focus.

“Rocco. If that’s why you’re quiet.” He gestures toward me with an open palm. “I just want you to know he doesn’t deserve you. I hate seeing you so forlorn like this. Any guy would be lucky to even be in the same room as you.”

Like you.

My eyes rocket wide open, and I’m so glad I didn’t say that out loud. Somebody glue my mouth shut fast. “Er, thanks. Although, I’m definitely not thinking about Rocco anymore.”

“Oh.” He closes his mouth, and then opens it again. “I guess I was hoping, um, I mean, thinking that’s why you were so quiet. Are you upset about something else?”

“No.” I pause, sucking back air, preparing to explain how I ruined this for both of us, but as I open my mouth, he speaks first.

“I’m sorry I messed it up.” He spikes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get a lot of practice at this sort of thing, and last night I saw that photographer take our photo, and I tried to get it back, but it was too late.”

“You didn’t mess it up.” Astonishment pools in my chest, as I can’t believe he was thinking that. “I messed it up. I was so exhausted last night that I didn’t even think about staying in character, and it was me who decided we needed to leave early. If we’d stayed with the plan, like you wanted to do, it would have been fine.”

“It will be fine,” he rushes but then stops talking abruptly when Skye appears from behind the curtain.

“Is there anything you need before takeoff?” She’s already walking to the closet to get my usual.

“Yeah, pillow, blanket, and sparkling water,” I rattle out, and then cut a glance back to Axl.

His gaze bounces from me to Skye. “I’ll have what she’s having.” A small smile buds on his lips as he adds, “I might have gotten used to this. Too bad it’s the last time.”

“It doesn’t have to be the last time.” I take my pillow, placing it behind my head as I kick back my footrest and close my eyes.

“Sort of.” His voice is somber. “I mean, I don’t have a jet of my own, and I doubt you need a bad fake date tagging along with you.”

I sputter out a laugh and open one eye. “Trust me, I enjoyed dating you.”

What?

Why would I say that?

“What do you mean by that?” His voice takes an inquiring tone.

“I was wondering the same thing.” I force a chuckle, trying to laugh it off, but I’m insanely curious about what I meant by that, too. “Maybe I just need some rest.” I shut my eyes tight and pray he drops it.

“Maybe,” he says in a definitive tone, and I hope he’ll cut me some slack and drop my blunder.

Just don’t say anything else. Let it go before I die.

“As far as fake dating goes,” he says. His smirk sparking from the corners of his mouth. “I think we both know we’re better off not.”

“Right.” My stomach drops, and I force myself to laugh. “Ha, ha . . .”

When we land in Mapleton, I need to recharge, and I couldn’t be happier chilling at home. I hate that I had to cancel concerts to get these two weeks off, but it’s been a long time since I had any breaks, and as each day passes at home, I can feel tension release a little more from my shoulders. I need a hard break.

However, it seems someone has other plans for me. I’m not home for more than an hour when there’s a now familiar knock on the door. I know it’s not Norma. Her knock is more persistent and tappy. This knock is measured and presuming.

I whip the door open and find Bill Baker standing where I had pictured him. His Granite Ice beanie covers his bald spot but emphasizes how unruly his eyebrows are, with long gray hairs spiking out from the center of the dark ones. It doesn’t make him look unkept though, just more like a friendly grandpa, and I’m getting used to him.

“I saw your new photos.” He clasps his hands behind his back, as if he’s ready to give a speech. “People suspect you’re faking this relationship.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where those even came from.” I wag my head back and forth. “I doubt anyone believes that story.”

“I do,” he asserts. “You two looked lost and unengaged. Not like a couple at all. We have to do something to change this fast, or we’ll lose everything.”

“I think it’s time we admit we’re defeated.” I shrug, not willing to drag out this drama. “We can call it a rebound fling and say we both wish the best for each other, but neither one of us is ready for a relationship—”

“You need to kiss him,” Bill blurts out.

Triple blinking, I’m stunned speechless, which grants Bill ample silence to explain, “You need to up your showmanship a little more. Give the people something to swoon over so they believe you’re in love. Not those dopey expressions you had last night.”

I just stand there, letting my jaw hang low and pondering how I’m going to explain this to him, but it’s really not that hard. “Remember, we made a no-kissing pact.”

“Everyone knows those are meant to be broken,” he says quickly. “Listen, it’s only going to work if you lay one on him when he’s not expecting it. Otherwise, you’ll both be too nervous, and it won’t be believable. You’re a natural actress and he’s not. He’ll clam up and ruin the moment.”

“That is a violation.” I wave my hands in a wide sweep in front of me. “I’m not going to throw myself on someone who I promised I wouldn’t kiss.”

“It’s not a violation if he wants to,” Bill goes on. “This fake-dating thing isn’t working because you both know it’s fake, but if one of you starts to believe it’s real . . . then it won’t look so stiff.”

“What are you saying?” I mostly understand exactly what he’s saying, but I ask because I’m making sure we’re both having the same conversation. I had no idea Bill was so sneaky to even suggest I break the only rule we have.

“I’m saying, I want you to stop pretending like you’re dating. It’s not working. You two look awful together. Instead, I want you to start dating him for real.”

I fold my arms, crossing them over my chest as Axl’s comment on the plane about how we both know we would be bad at dating pulls to the front of my mind. Maybe he was fishing for my reaction? My little heart, which has been through so much these past few days, starts to pitter hard against my ribcage.

The thought of kissing Axl sends me into a place of bliss that I can’t explain. The mere suggestion of his soft, full lips pressing against mine . . . I bite my lip to avoid smiling. I love the idea of it, but I don’t think it’s the best way to go about it. I’m not going to trick him into anything. If I ever kiss him, I want it to be for real. “This makes no sense.”

“It will once you kiss him.” His tone is easy, as if he’s deciding to order toast with his over-easy eggs and not at all like he’s running some scam.

“I’m not going to kiss him.” I pause, but then decide to remind him about my morals. “Agreeing to pretend you are something in front of people you don’t know is one thing, but Axl and I are friends now. Friends who agreed to not do certain things, and I’m not going to disrespect his boundaries.”

“Where should it happen?” He rubs his facial stubble on his chin, ignoring my rebuttal as he plots out loud. “The date looked so staged at the fundraiser. People are also expecting a show at the arena, but what if . . .” His eyes slide over my front porch, and I visualize the wheels turning in his head.

“I don’t think so.” I throw up my hand in a stop motion. “This is a bad idea—”

“It’s a perfect idea!” Excitement infuses his voice, and his smile spreads across his face. “It’s the most believable setting. Invite him over to spend time with your family. That will get him thinking it’s a genuine date, because it’s not in public. There’s no reason you’d ever have him over here unless you’d be interested in having some private time. Then maybe come out here to this nice porch to cuddle, and when things get cozy, you pucker up. I’ll be hiding in those bushes with my camera.”

“Absolutely not!” I shake my head violently. Bill has lost his mind! I recall when he first showed up on my porch and how I thought he was crazy then. He’s only gotten crazier. He doesn’t even have a normal setting. And how he comes up with these plans and voices them so easily makes me wonder what kind of business he’s running. I don’t know anything about owning a hockey team, but this isn’t how people act. “Why would I do that to him? It’s a breach of trust and so dishonest.”

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” Bill’s eyes widen as he yanks his phone out of his back pocket and proceeds to open some app. “This morning was interesting,” he narrates as he scrolls. “Not only did I see those photos of the two of you looking duller than lead paint, but I saw something about how your tour is in trouble.” He flashes the article at me. “Do you know anything about this?”

My heart tanks from its already defeated position.

How did that get leaked?

After scanning the first few lines, it sounds as if a disgruntled employee at one of the canceled venues leaked my lackluster ticket sales and complained about my inability to reimburse the tickets in a timely manner.

Of course, there is no mention of my management trying to reschedule the tour. They never mention any of the positive things I do.

“I know I can’t believe everything I read online, but is this true?” His eyes soften, smacking mine with a healthy dose of reality that I’ve been avoiding since I talked to Bailey this morning.

“Some of it may be.” Rolling my lips in, I contemplate how much of my personal business to disclose to Bill, but he already has more blackmail on me than any person on the planet. Maybe he can help. He is a billionaire, after all. “We’re trying to reschedule the concerts, but they aren’t even trying and are insisting on refunds. I don’t want to do that, because my team deserves bonuses for working so hard this last year. Most of them missed the whole summer with their families.”

“See, that's where we can help each other.” Bill winks as he tucks his phone into his back pocket. “We can make everyone happy if we work together. Refund all the tickets, and instead of rebooking at that venue, why not offer a free concert in a park or something? People love that sort of stuff. You can say you’re paying it forward for the inconvenience.”

“I can’t afford—”

“I can pay all their bonuses.”

“Why would you do—” My brain catches up to my words and I freeze. “It will cost you a hundred grand to refund all those tickets. You think me kissing Axl is going to help that much?”

“I do.” Bill rocks back on his heels, looking more confident than ever. “It saves face for this fake-dating rumor and restores hope for all our fans, which will fuel your career and the success of my team for years to come. I started this.” He flashes a quick gaze to the ground. “I admit I didn’t realize how clever the media would be, but we aren’t done yet. Get a good kiss on camera. We can wait a few weeks for everyone to have a chance to believe in fairy tales, and then you can make your statement about not being ready to date. If we give up now, it fuels the story that it is all a farce.”

“You sure love your hockey team, don’t you?” I half chuckle, half wince. “This is an awful lot of trouble to go through to get fans, especially when you don’t need the money.”

“I may have my own bets to even.” He winks at me, rocking back on his heels again.

“Oh really?” A veil lifts as it suddenly all makes sense as to why he’s trying so hard. It’s not about Axl or me. It’s all about his ego. “Do tell?”

“Some secrets are better left secrets, but I’ll say I may have made a bet—or two—about this team to some of my friends, and well, I don’t like to lose.” His smile spreads in a genuine grin, and he reaches out his hand. “What do you say? We help each other out one more time. One more act?”

I hate the idea of kissing Axl.

Wait, let’s clarify.

I rather like the idea of kissing Axl, as I’ve been enamored with those lips since first glance. The part I hate is the deception, especially when we promised not to go there. Even if he allows it to happen, it’s bound to massively confuse him. He’s been nothing but a gentleman to me.

It’s a terrible idea.

But if I don’t do any damage control and allow these fake-dating rumors to fester, they could get out of hand, further sinking my career. I’ll never make this tour money back. My crew could go unpaid, and the mere thought of that makes me want to hurl. Not to mention Axl’s shot at the NHL goes down the drain.

I could make it a fast peck.

Sort of like a thank you.

As long as Bill gets it on camera.

Yeah, like a grandma kiss.

That could work.

A thank you and so long . . .

Oh, this is a terrible idea. I press my fingers to my temples, wishing I could bury all my problems, but they aren’t going away. Bill is right. We started this. If we quit now, we look guilty. I already hate the words I’m about to say, but I take his hand in mine. “No promises. I’m not going to force myself on him, but if it feels like I can slip one in there . . .” I roll my eyes as I can’t believe what I’m saying. “I’ll try.”

He eagerly pumps my hand up and down. “You got yourself a pucker-up pact.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I drop his hand, mulling over how I’m going to get myself into this situation.

It has to be casual.

He can’t suspect a thing.

Maybe I can make it like an accident where I fall on him.

Whatever it is, I have to come up with something quick before these rumors get out of hand.