Juliana Haygert - Playing Pretend

“It’s going to be okay, hon,” she said, rubbing my back.

She let me cry and snot all over her for what seemed like an eternity. When I finally was able to take a deep breath without tearing up, she brought me inside her house. Her parents were in the kitchen, waiting for me with fresh coffee and chocolate cake.

I smiled and teared up again.

Joan put her arms around me, and guided me to a stool around the kitchen island. She cut me a piece of cake, brought me a mug of coffee, and then sat beside me. Liana sat on the other side. Then the four of us sat there, in silence, for a long time.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Quite the opposite. It was comforting and secure. I knew I was safe here, though they wouldn’t be. If I were discovered, it would end their peace. I couldn’t do that to them.

“Thanks for taking me in,” I said.

“You’re always welcome here,” Joan said.

“I know, but I shouldn’t stay long. The paparazzi might find me here and it’ll be a nightmare for you.”

“We don’t care about that,” Liana’s father said.

I smiled again. “Thanks, but I do. Besides, I have to think about what to do with my life now. Should I stay in the city, move to another state, hide for a few months? And there’s school. I have to decide what to do about it. Drop out? Take a break while I hide? Change maj—”

Joan reached over and squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to decide anything now. Right now, you’re going to go to bed and try to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and you can start thinking about what you want to do. But no rush, okay? You can stay here as long as you want.”

I knew she really meant that, but I wouldn’t put them in the spotlight too.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a tiny bit better since this mess exploded.

Mason

David and I stared at the TV as the reporter showed the latest news: Charlotte driving away from the Executive Mansion. Some tried following her, but she was too smart and drove around until they lost her.

I had called her five hundred times since I saw the newspaper this morning. At first, she didn’t pick up. Now, her phone was turned off and the call went directly to her voice mail.

That didn’t stop me from trying again.

“Hello, this is Charlotte McClain. I can’t answer now. You know what to do. Bye!”

I threw my phone on the floor and punched the coffee table. “Goddammit.”

“Hey!” David interjected. “Please, don’t break our apartment.”

I grunted.

When David got home late this afternoon, he seemed a little wary because of the newspaper story. Of course, he didn’t know the truth, and to him, since they accused me of taking advantage of her for money, he sort of believed it. He was also upset that I had hidden Charlotte’s identity from him, even when he knew she looked familiar.

“I knew I had seen her before. I just had no idea from where,” he said. I knew he would connect the dots sooner or later, but I didn’t think it would be like this. With my name all over the news. “Did you do it?” David asked.

“No!” I shouted. Come on, did he really think I had sent those pictures? “I never cared about her money. She could be penniless and I would still love her.”

He stared at me, appraising me. “Love her?”

I sighed. “Yes. I love her.” I had never said it out loud. In truth, I hadn’t even acknowledged it to myself until now. Now that it was out, I knew I really loved her. “With all my heart and soul.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No. Now, with this lie spreading, I bet I won’t be able to tell her. I need to fix this shit.”

With nothing else to lose, I sank into the couch and told him everything. About spring break, about finding each other again, how Charlotte resisted at first, but we kept on meeting by chance, like fate. I told him about Donnie Williams and how the guy never left Charlotte alone, about how strict her mother was and she couldn’t break away from it that easily. I also told him about Donnie’s visit.

The reporter kept on talking. “As of right now, Charlotte McClain is in hiding, and the governor is unavailable for interviews. With the rumors of Governor Peyton McClain running for the presidency in the future, we can’t help but wonder what kind of family problems they have and if we should be worried about it.”

Fuck, this wasn’t good.

Charlotte must think the worse of me right now. If only she would turn on her phone and answer one of my calls so I could tell her that it wasn’t me, though I was somewhat guilty.

Shit. Whichever side I took, there was no positive outcome.

I picked up my phone from the floor and stood.

“Where you going?” David asked.

“I don’t know. I wanted to go for a run, to clear my mind, but I bet the press is already after me and it’ll be a matter of time before they hound me.” I sighed. “I guess I’ll just lie in my bed until a way of fixing this shit comes to me.” David frowned with his finger on his chin. His thinking face. “Uh-oh,” I said.

He offered me a sly grin. “I think I know how we can fix this mess.”

What? Hope surged in my chest and I inhaled a deep breath. I sat back on the couch. “Fixing is good. I’m all for fixing. Tell me.”

Mason

At 8:30 Tuesday morning, I stepped into the oppressive building David had directed me to and approached the reception desk located on the center of the lobby. I would have come last night, right after my talk with David, but the building would have been closed.

“Good morning,” one of the receptionists said. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to speak to Donnie Williams.”

The lady turned her gaze to the computer’s monitor. “What’s your name?”

“Mason Rowell.”

With wide eyes, she did a double take. Did she recognize me from the pictures? She cleared her throat and stared at her monitor again. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rowell, but I don’t see your name here. Do you have an appointment under another name?”

“I don’t have an appointment.”

She frowned. “Then I’m afraid you won’t be able to speak to Mr. Williams today. However, we can schedule something for next week. How is—?”

“Look,” I interrupted her. I made sure to put as much self-confidence in my eyes as I could and stared at her. “Just please tell him Mason Rowell is here. I know he’ll want to speak to me.”

She considered it for a moment, and then she nodded and picked up the phone. “Mr. Williams, I have a walk-in.” She paused. “Yes, sir, I know, but he said you’ll want to talk to him.” She paused again. “But, sir, it’s Mason Rowell.” Another quick pause. “Yes, sir.”

She produced a visitor’s tag from a drawer and gave it to me. “Use this to pass through the security team.” She pointed to my right, where two guards were stationed beside card reading machines, like some sort of checkpoint. “Go to the twentieth floor. Mr. Williams is waiting for you.”

“Thanks.”

I walked to the security team, passed my card through the slot, a green light blinked, and I crossed through the turnstile. The guards didn’t even look my way as walked past them and into one of the elevators.

I pressed the button to the twentieth floor and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I wasn’t nervous per se, more like uneasy. This could go all sorts of wrong.

The elevator door opened, revealing Donnie standing right there.

“What do you want?” he asked, his tone unfriendly.

I stepped out of the elevator and halted two feet from him. I held my head high and my shoulders poised, even though the guy was a couple of inches shorter than I was. Intimidation played a big part.