Page 72 of The Home Grown
“Wait. Post? What post?” I think for a moment, then it occurs to me that this could bethatpost. The very post I’ve been waiting my entire career for. “Oh, my God—did I get in?” Excitement replaces the anxiety I’ve been feeling. Excitement that my dream has come true … or at least that’s what I interpret. “Vic?”
She lets out a curt sigh down the line.
“Okay, fine. Yes. But act surprised. I only found out earlier and from what I understand, there’re a few things that have happened outside of all your crap. They usually don’t announce the rosterthisearly but … anyway, you’ve impressed Coach with your skills and he said new information has come to light which has cemented things for you.” She pauses and I wait for my brain to catch up. “But Mike, you need to tell me what the hell is going on.”
I let myself revel in the excitement for a mere matter of seconds, even standing up and punching the air with glee before the realisation that this wholewifething is something that’s going to rear its head pretty soon—even more so now Greer knows.
I settle myself down on the chair, the cushion this time, because I figure I may as well get comfortable if Vicky’s going to kick my ass.
“Look—I didn’t mean for it to come out like it did,” I begin, then I fill her in on the rest of the details. “I didn’t mean to tell him I was married, it just sort of … slipped out. And you should have seen his face, Vic. He looked relieved. I didn’t expect him to be so happy about it.”
“But you don’t have a wife. At least…” There’s an audible gasp through the phone. “You didn’t getmarried,did you? Tell me you didn’t.” Her voice shifts from its usual tone to almost a whisper, and my phone trembles against my ear.
“Well—sort of. At least we both think so … fuck.”
And I’m forced to come clean to Vicky. Telling her everything from Ellie turning up at my place, to me needing to check through my old paperwork for some sort of counterpart to the paper Ellie found.
I leave out the bit about spending the night.
“But there’s a problem,” I conclude. “And I need you to help me fix it. Because she’s not happy to go along with it.”
If Vicky was standing in front of me right now—going off how her breathing has changed—I’d have a black eye.
I pick up on her inhaling, probably ready to shout at me, so I carry on talking. A distraction technique that’s typically worked well in the past.
“She’s trying to kick start her business, so I figure … if you were willing to help her with some social media stuff, and we could convince Jen to help her with a new website …”
Vicky mutters something under her breath before adjusting her voice.
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Why would I be kidding?” I say.
“You’re blackmailing someone you might already be married to—into pretending to be your wife, just so you can save face … in exchange for social media help?” She pauses. “That’s not just reckless, Mike. That’s selfish. Even for you.”
My heart falls into my stomach.
Now that she’s said it aloud, I hear it properly.
Blackmail.
And yeah … Iama douche.
But that douche part of me has a voice. And it’s screaming at me to not give up just yet.
“C’mon, Vic. This has been my dream for so long … what would Johnny say if he knew his little sister could have helped his best bud out of a hole and?—”
“Oh, no you don’t,” she says, cutting me off. “You don’t get to do that.”
“So, what do I do then?” I ask. “Unless you’re volunteering to take Ellie’s place and?—”
That wins me the mother of all cackles from Vicky.
“You need to fix this,” she says. “Come clean with Coach or?—”
“Or…?”
“Actually, nothing. Come clean. And deal with the consequences like a big boy.”
