Juliana Haygert - Playing Pretend

“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.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“We already talked.”

“Not really.”

Reluctantly, he nodded toward the double glass doors and started walking. I followed him through those doors, ignoring the curious stare from the secretary as we walked past her, and inside his large office. Comfortable chairs, a big mahogany desk set against a floor-to-ceiling window, an incredible view of the National Mall a few blocks away, sofa, coffee and end tables, and a bar area. Really? All of this for a guy who was probably what? Twenty-five, twenty-six?

I shook my head as Donnie closed the door.

He walked to his chair behind his desk and gestured for me to take one of the chairs.

I sat down.

“So,” he started.

“So,” I repeated, suddenly confused about how this would go down. “I wanted to talk to you about the deal you offered me the other day.”

“Well, haven’t you seen the pictures everywhere? The deal doesn’t stand anymore.”

“I know, but I want to know why you did it. I didn’t think you would go through with it. When you threatened to send those pictures to the press if I didn’t break up with Charlotte, I honestly thought you wouldn’t do it. After all, you said you like Charlotte. If you like her so much, you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I didn’t hurt her. You did.”

This guy was getting on my last nerve. “I wasn’t the one who sent the pictures. You did.”

“Does it matter? She thinks it was you and that’s all I needed.”

I shook my head. “How could you hurt her like that?”

“She’ll get over it. I’ll give her a couple of weeks to heal on her own, and then I’ll be there, to help her move on.” He grinned as if he had won the lottery. If he wanted to make me uncomfortable, this wouldn’t work. If he kept this up, he could make me enraged and get a punch in his pretty face.

This guy was pathetic. Did he really believe Charlotte would fall into his arms like that? She didn’t like him. Period.

“You don’t regret sending the pictures to the press?”

“I don’t. Do you regret not taking my deal?”

In a way I did. If I had taken the deal, I would have hurt Charlotte by breaking up with her, but her relationship with her mother would be okay. She would hate me. In the end, I hadn’t taken the deal. Donnie went ahead with his threat and Charlotte was hurting, thinking I was responsible for her pain. She still hated me. Almost the same outcome. Almost.

“Not really.”

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I first thought. You do realize she will move on, right? You’re not her type. She might have lived an adventure with you, but when it comes down to it, she’ll look for a familiar environment. Like money and power.”

I refrained from answering, because I was one hair from clocking his eye. However, in truth, I wasn’t so sure he was wrong. Charlotte might be this happy, lively girl, but she had the other side of the coin. She had money and status behind her. Take that away, would she truly be happy?

Donnie adjusted the tie around his neck. “Anyway, what do you want here? To try to make another deal? I won’t accept anything, unless it’s to pay you to leave the city and never come back.”

Punch line. I wasn’t expecting that part, but it would be a great addition.

I stood. “Well, then I won’t even bother you with details.”

I turned and walked to the door.

“Mr. Rowell,” Donnie called. I halted and looked at him. He had a winning grin intended for me. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her.”

Rage filled my veins and I clenched my fists, holding it all in, before I lunged over his desk and squeezed that stupid smirk from his pompous face.

I nodded, not trusting that I wouldn’t insult him if I opened my mouth and then ruin my plan.

As much as I wanted to run out, I forced myself to walk calmly out of his office, into the elevator, through the lobby, and out of the building.

Then, I didn’t hold back. I exhaled through my mouth and rolled my shoulders. I counted to fifty, thinking of a peaceful beach, the waves breaking on the sand. Charlotte sprawled on a beach blanket, and me seated beside her.

A little better, I fished my phone from my pocket and pressed the big red button on the screen, turning off the recording. Donnie’s reputation was in the palm of my hand, and he didn’t even know it.

Charlotte

Liana and I had barely slept all night. Instead, we lay on her bed and talked. We talked about what happened, about how stupid I was for not suspecting anything, about Mason and how much of a jerk he was, about what I would do with my life from now on.

I had a couple of options. I could face the press and tell them what my mother wanted me to, but not act as innocent and betrayed as she wanted me to, then move on as I wanted. I would apply to another university—and hope there was still time to be accepted since it was the middle of August already—change my major; find an apartment; and find a part-time job, because the money I had in the bank wouldn’t last forever and I was sure, by now, my mother had frozen my trust fund and cut me from our other joint accounts.

Or I could move somewhere else. A small town—far away from here and uninterested in politics. Or move to Europe where no one would know who I was.

I wasn’t ready for all that though. I needed more time. Time to heal, time to think, and time to find my ground again.