Page 13 of Love is Fake

I weigh up the pros and cons of telling my father who my new client is; the NDA I’ve just signed says I can’t, but I know my dad wouldn’t ever tell anyone. When it comes to secrets, the man is a vault. Although there are some secrets, I wish he wouldn’t keepall to himself, like what happened the day my mother left us and why he never tried to find her.

Even without bringing the confidentiality contract into my decision, my dad had never been a big fan of Lennox Gray. Not since I came back from school saying I was never going back because of the library incident with Carly. It didn’t even help when I told him Lennox found me crying on the bleachers of the deserted football pitch and apologized on behalf of his awful girlfriend. If I hadn’t already been a little bit in love with Lennox Gray, that moment would have cemented it. I was barely able to speak, so overwhelmed I washewas even talking to me. He must have thought I was a complete loser. Anyway, in my father’s book, a private apology was nowhere near good enough. Lennox should have stopped his horrid girlfriend from making my life miserable at the time, not just assuaged his guilty conscience after the fact. I was quicker to forgive the object of my affection - instantaneous, if I’m being honest.

So, I keep my new client’s identity to myself, keeping things general and light. The last thing I want is my dad worrying about me. Lord knows he did enough of that when I was in high school.

“Work’s work,” I shrug, not wanting to get into it when I’m feeling so jaded about a job I usually love. “Michael had his baby,” I tell him, smiling at the thought of how excited my mentor must be. He and his wife had been trying for a kid for so long, his little one was nothing short of a miracle.

“Hey, that’s great news. Girl or boy?” My dad lets me steer the conversation to safer territory.

“Girl. And before you ask, they haven’t named her yet. I think Michael’s still trying to get his head around the fact that he’s a father.” And there’s no doubt in my mind, he’ll be a great one, like mine.

“He’ll figure it out,” my father asserts with confidence even though he’s never met my mentor. All he knows is all the good stuff I’ve told him. “Girls are easier than boys, anyway.”

A laugh escapes me. “How would you know? All you had was me!”

“And you were all I needed.” My dad says the words like he’s trying to convince me, and I skip over the elephant in the room, that my mother had left himbecauseof me. “Besides, it wasn’t like I had to do much, by the time you could talk you were pretty much the one looking after me!”

I roll my eyes at the exaggeration. Sure, I’d been an independent kid because it had just been me and my dad and he’d had enough trouble making ends meet with his repair shop. That’s what happens when you have a bleeding heart and a habit of fixing people’s cars for free when they can’t afford their bill…

“Is that Izzy? Hey sweetie-pie! We miss you!” Marianne’s voice rings out like a bell in the background and I smile at the warmth in her tone. Marianne had moved into the house next door when I was in junior high. It didn’t take long for her to become the aunt I never had. Well… if that aunt had a penchant for leopard print, pink lipstick and made the best damn brownies in the universe.

“Hey Marianne,” I call back, loudly and then lower my voice so only my dad can hear me. “So, Marianne sure is over at your place late…”

I can only hope they’ve finally taken the next logical step in their friendship and started dating. They’re perfect for each other and Marianne hasn’t made any secret of her feelings for my dad. He’s the one who’s always held back. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if – even after all this time - it’s because a part of him is still waiting for my mother to come home.

“I was working late at the shop and Marianne was kind enough to come over with some of that chicken pie she knows I like so much.” I can almost hear my father blushing.

“Uh-huh.” I don’t comment further, letting my tone speak for itself. Quick as a whip, my dad changes the topic to the weather and local politics in our small town.

I listen to him, letting his voice and the familiar names and places lull me into relaxation. As it always happens when I speak to my father, I think of how much easier my life would be right now if I hadn’t left Alabama. If I’d just stayed put and hadn’t fallen in love with the bustle of New York.

If I’d stayed, by now I’d probably be married with a kid on the way. I’d probably be managing my dad’s auto shop. I’d be living in a big ranch-style house like the people I grew up with instead of in a postage-sized apartment. And I’d be bored out of my mind.

My hometown is great for a visit and no judgement on the people who stayed there, but it has never been for me. I’ve always wanted to see the world, longed for a big city where no-one cares who you are or who you were before you showed up. I’ve reinvented myself in this city and in a way, I feel like I’ve become the person I was always supposed to be. If I’d stayed behind, that would never have happened.

“So when’re you and Marianne coming to visit me?” I ask eventually, although I know the answer before I’ve even finished the question.

“You know what it’s like Biz; I can’t just leave the shop,” he hedges.

“The shop will survive for a few days without you,” I remind him, but I don’t push. I know my father misses me. I also know my father hates the city - the crowds, the noise, the speed of it, pretty much everything I love about it. He hasn’t been to visit me once in the six years I’ve lived here, so we only see each otherwhen I manage to get home. Unfortunately, it’s becoming less and less frequent as work gets busier and busier.

We settle on more neutral topics and I’m grateful for the company of his voice on the long drive home. I try not to calculate how many hours until I’ll be back on this road, heading in the opposite direction and back to Lennox.

It’s just a job, Izzy, I remind myself.You’re a pro, you can do this. It’s not like he’s an ex-boyfriend. Lennox Gray is just a guy, someone that I never even really knew to begin with. It’ll be like working with any other athlete.

For a moment, I toy with the idea of telling him about our past connection, but I table that thought almost immediately. Maybe if he hadn’t been so unpleasant the whole time, I’d have a different reaction. But nothing about the way Lennox reacted to me makes me think he’d welcome any conversation from me that isn’t about his treatment. And that’s fine, totally fine. He’s my client, not my friend. And the more I have that in the forefront of my mind, the better I’ll be able to do my job.

Chapter

Three

By the time my alarm beeps incessantly at me, I’ve barely had 4 hours of sleep. Bleary-eyed, I manage to slam my hand down on the phone hard enough to turn off U2 blaring on about how ‘it’s a beautiful day’. I’m the opposite of a morning person and no alarm clock singing sweet songs is going to change that.

I’m on auto-pilot as I slide my legs out of bed, cursing as something heavy lands on my big toe.

“Mother-Freakin – !” I grumble, rubbing my toe as I pick the offending binder off the floor. I’d fallen asleep reading through Lennox’s medical history, which was really a tragedy centered around his injured knee.

He’s already been through surgery to fix a ruptured ACL and he’smanaged to come back from that only missing half the season. That’s impressive, bearing in mind that a lot of athletes are never able to play professionally again after such an injury. But Lennox’s knee has never been the same and he’s suffered minor injury after minor injury. A whole bunch of small harms that culminated into this latest monstrosity.

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