His Pretend Girl (2 page)

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. That wasn’t me. I barely recognized myself. Not just the dress—a deep red satin gown with a fitted bodice, tight waist, and long flared skirt—but the hair and makeup too. I’d had my nondescript shoulder-length bob shorn into a pixie crop and lightened. Several shades of blonde all jostled for attention, looking almost natural. I’d taken the afternoon off work and had makeup done at the hair salon, and my eyes now dominated my face. You could see cheekbones, previously hidden by my wayward hair. I even had the semblance of a cleavage.

And if all that wasn’t magic enough, my fairy godmother had definitely been smiling while I shopped, and she’d found me the most perfect fuck-me heels ever. I still wasn’t sure I could walk in them, even though I’d been practicing at home for the last two evenings. With skyscraper stiletto heels, glossy patent leather, and pointy toes, they were the ultimate dancing shoes—and bright, fire-engine red of course. My funky alter-ego was coming out to party, for one night only.
Watch out, Matthew Bradley
.

How would I play it? Sashay up to him and say hello? Smile at him while dancing with Ben? I’d played the scene in my head a dozen times. Matthew would do a double take at my changed appearance. He’d give me that sexy, panty-dropping smile I’d seen him use so often, and he’d reach out to touch my hair.
Dorothy, you’re beautiful
, he’d say. He’d use my real name. He’d ask me to dance, and we’d get all hot and sweaty on the dance floor, and he’d be unable to take his eyes off me.

It
had
to work. My heart beat faster, as I wondered about the opposite happening, and I squashed that thought right away. If I didn’t know myself in the mirror, he couldn’t fail to notice me.

Ben had insisted he’d pick me up, and I was ready with plenty of time to spare. I stared out of the window, not seeing the beautiful stretch of coastline that I normally admired. All I could see was Matthew. I forced myself to ignore the growing list of his girlfriends, the names on auto-repeat in my head.

The doorbell pinged, and my stomach cramped with excitement.
Ben
. His reaction would be a good test of how well I’d polished my appearance. Taking a deep breath to try and quell the anxiety swirling in my gut, I grabbed my beaded shoulder bag and the matching pashmina, and then walked slowly down the stairs to the front door. I’d already figured that to be able to walk in these shoes, I had to move with care. In the event of a fire, earthquake, or other must-run emergency, I’d have to abandon my heels and flee barefoot. Still, remembering to walk heel-toe with each step brought a rare elegance to my gait. If I couldn’t walk another step in them, I’d just stand in one place for the night, with my long skirt drawn back slightly to show the divine pointiness and the delicate tooling in the leatherwork. They were art.

I opened the door, just as the bell pinged again.
The moment of truth.

A handsome man in a tuxedo stared back at me. Oh my God, it was Ben. A tux? I did a double take, my gaze sweeping up and down in amazement. A black jacket and slacks, ice white shirt, and neat black bowtie. I’d only ever seen him in jeans and a T-shirt, with tennis shoes or flip flops. Now he wore black, polished leather shoes. His hair was shorter and rumpled, as though he’d been running his fingers through it, and his blue eyes were wide as he looked at me.

“
Ben
.”

“
Dorothy
.”

We spoke at the same time, but he recovered first. “Jesus. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Dorothy.” He looked dazed, and shook his head briefly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—uh… What I meant… You’re beautiful.”

My chest warmed, and my cheeks heated, as he echoed back the words I hoped to hear from Matthew. I gestured toward him. “You scrub up well, yourself. Where did you get the tux?”

“I…uh.” He tugged at the tie. “Hired.”

I touched my temple with one fingertip. “No glasses?”

“Lenses.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a charmingly bashful move, and I nodded. He looked amazing. I felt a pang of unease at our plan. It still didn’t seem fair to use him like this, but he’d insisted it was fine. He’d mentioned a girl he wanted to go with, so maybe he was using me to make her jealous? My thoughts danced and skittered on overdrive, and I realized he was smiling at me. He held out one hand and nodded toward the Mag-Car at the curb. “My lady, our taxi awaits.”

****

The party was being held in the top floor function room of one of the city’s swankiest hotels. I’d always known there was a lot of money in the insurance business, and this lavish event confirmed it. This being New Zealand though, the dress code was relaxed, and I spotted everything from glamorous eveningwear through to jeans and T-shirts. Most had chosen semi-formal though. Ben and I wouldn’t stick out like a pair of sore thumbs. We stood in the doorway of the room, and waited to be checked off the guest list. My gaze was drawn to the crowd milling around inside. Was Matthew here yet? I smoothed damp palms over my skirt, and then panicked about staining it. Not that anybody would notice. Despite the brightness of the summer evening, the blinds had been drawn, and the room basked in a soft, diffused light.
Flattering
.

“Ready?” Ben smiled when I turned to him “We can sit anywhere.” He held out his hand, but I stood frozen. Now I was here, I felt sick. I normally avoided big, noisy parties like this. Why had I come? Oh, yeah. Because I wanted to impress Matthew, and I wasn’t going to do that if I continued to lurk at the doorway. I shoved down my fear, clamped a temporary lock on my social ineptitude, and with a grateful smile, slipped my hand into Ben’s. His palm was warm, smooth and dry. He laced our fingers together and gave me a quick squeeze.

I nodded.
I could do this
. “Let’s go.” The words came out in a strangled voice, and Ben flashed me a smile.
Heel, toe, heel, toe.
I repeated the mantra in my head, and managed to walk beside him without tripping over my own feet.

A sultry jazz singer warbled softly from the stage, and wait staff flowed around the room, carrying trays stacked with canapés. In one corner, a magnificent Christmas tree reached the high ceiling, glass baubles reflecting a copious string of flashing lights. My beautiful shoes pinched already, but that was just because they were new. All the same, I didn’t want to walk too far, and I happily sank into the first seat Ben found. It was an ideal position. From here, I had an excellent view of the entrance; I could see everyone who came and left.

Ben leaned over me, his mouth close to my ear. “What would you like?”

I’d like the evening to be over.
I sought my voice. “A glass of sauvignon, please.” He disappeared into the crowd, and I tried to relax. To not look as though I was about to bolt. Even if Matthew turned up, would it be worth the social agony of coming to something like this? I opened my tiny little bag and pretended to look for something. It held my phone, key card, tissues, lipstick, and a condom—necessary in this part of the world, where sterilization hadn’t been mandated. There was no room for anything else, but I managed to spin out the activity until Ben returned with our drinks.

I peeked up at him with a smile of pure gratitude, and was rewarded with a beaming grin in return. He was quite handsome, really. Tall, and lean from all the running I knew he did. I’d never actually noticed before, and I wondered again whom he’d been planning to bring to this party.

Already, the room was filling up, and the noise level rising. I ran my finger around the side of the chilled glass and collected a bead of moisture. I didn’t need my pashmina; it was plenty hot in here. Some people joined our table and chatted with Ben, but I didn’t know them, so I sipped my drink and looked attentive, while in reality I watched the doorway and the constant stream of people.

A touch on my hand jogged my attention, and I looked up to see Ben.

“Let’s dance,” he said.

I hesitated, and he waited, his gaze warm. I’d promised three dances. They’d be easier now, before my feet really started to hurt.

Ben led me onto the dance floor, his hand wrapped around mine, and I discovered the music had changed from easy jazz to popular disco without my noticing. My sole attention had been on the door. He guided me to an empty space on the crowded floor, and we moved together to a song I recognized. Ben turned out to be a good dancer, smooth and not flashy, and I gradually relaxed. I shuffled along with him, and before I knew it, we’d had our three agreed dances. Matthew hadn’t appeared yet, but it was still early, and to my surprise, I was enjoying myself.

I ordered the next round of drinks, and we carried on dancing. At the back of my mind, a little warning bell dinged. I had to be careful how much I drank. It was only Thursday, and I would be back at work in the morning, as would most of my floor. After three glasses of wine, I could overlook not only the throbbing in my toes, but also the sage warnings of my inner voice, and when the music slowed and Ben eased me into a gentle clinch, I didn’t demur.

His arms looped around my waist, holding me close, and after a hesitant breath, I placed my hands on his shoulders. He’d dispensed with the jacket, and his shirt was soft beneath my fingertips. Warmth radiated from his body, and his smile enticed me to dance in his embrace. It was probably ambitious to call it dancing. I leaned into him, and swayed in vague time to the rhythm. Up close, I could smell his cologne and see the pattern of a tattoo on his upper arm, just visible through the fabric. My eyes were drawn to the dark swirls. I’d never noticed it before. What else had I never seen? His clear blue eyes had tiny gold flashes in their depths, and I found a small, curved scar on his chin. He was clean-shaven, and his skin looked smooth, his lips full and soft.
What would he be like to kiss?
I shook the thought away, and lifted my gaze to scan the doorway again.

We’d been here for two hours, and there was still no sign of Matthew.

The buffet had been served, but I wasn’t hungry, my stomach knotting up at the thought of eating. Ben had other ideas though, and insisted he get us some food. I sat and waited, gaze to the door, while Ben disappeared toward the food. Several of my colleagues sought me out to compliment me on my appearance, but it was too noisy for prolonged conversation, and I didn’t have to say much. Would they think Ben and I were dating? I didn’t know I felt about that, so I chose to ignore it. I smoothed on a fresh coat of lip-gloss, fixed a smile on my face, and waited some more.

Not that I was counting, but it was now two and a half hours. How long would I wait, before I admitted to myself he wasn’t coming? Three hours? Four? Maybe he’d gone to a bar first, and would come here for the last hour? Maybe he was already with a girl tonight.

Disappointment hung heavy on my shoulders, and I picked half-heartedly at the plate of nibbles Ben placed before me, preferring to sip the fresh glass of wine instead.
Where was he?
I thought back to the brief water cooler conversation we’d shared last week. I’d asked if he was going to the end of year party, and he’d replied he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Well he
was
missing it, and it
felt
like the end of the world to me. All this effort. The dress and shoes. The hours in the hair salon. All for nothing.

I pushed a breaded mushroom around my plate, and watched the crumbs fall away to expose the soft underbelly of the filling. “He’s not coming, is he?” I lifted my gaze to Ben, not expecting him to reply. Not expecting anything more than a non-committal shrug.

“No, he’s not.” Ben placed his fork on the side of the plate and folded his arms.

I felt a flicker of dismay and something darker. I took a slug of wine as I sifted through my words, my brain on a go-slow after so much alcohol on an empty stomach. “How can you be so sure?”
He’s just late.

“I asked him to stay away.”

I blinked. I mustn’t have heard that right. “What did you say?”

Over the sudden buzzing in my ears, Ben’s voice was clear. “I asked him not to come tonight.” His face was still, his eyes wary. A muscle flicked in his cheek. I stared at him and took in every detail, while I fought to stay calm. I had to knot my hands together, or I think I’d have slapped him. “Why?” It came out on a shocked gasp of air. Ben knew I was going to all this trouble, yet he neglected to tell me it was for nothing. I swallowed and tried again. “Why would you do that?”

“He’s a jerk.”

I knew my mouth hung open, and I lifted trembling fingers to cover it. My mind spun. Ben had set me up to fail. Acid burned in my chest, and I blinked back the tears that pressed against my eyes. “I did all this for him.” My voice was shaky at best. “But you knew.”
Betrayed
. He’d betrayed me. “I trusted you.”

“You’re too good for him, Dorothy.”

Fury rose up in a hot wave. “How would you know? What gave you the right to make that decision? I’ve waited here all night… Would you have told me at all? Waited until everyone went home? Did you think it was funny? Play a joke on Dorothy?” I sagged in my seat, spent for the moment.

Ben leaned forward, one hand on the table. “I didn’t want you to be hurt.” He sounded fierce, and I stared back.

“You did a shitty job of it,” I whispered.

I wanted to be sick. Ben had told Matthew to stay away, so now Matthew knew that I liked him, was keen on him. He was probably living it up with another girl and sniggering about how Dorothy had got all dressed up for him, when he wasn’t even going to be there.

I couldn’t sit there with Ben any longer.

The urge to escape burned at me. I stood, shoved my chair back, and grabbed my purse. My feet instantly ached, but I didn’t need to keep the shoes any longer. They were for Matthew, and he wouldn’t be seeing them. I slipped them off, tugged at my pashmina, and stared down at Ben. He looked shocked at my sudden movement, and opened his mouth to speak, but I jumped in first. “Don’t say anything. Just leave me alone, Ben.”

****

Adrenaline pushed me on, making me ignore the rough paving stones beneath my feet, urging me home. The first Mag-Car at the rank swept me away, before I even acknowledged I’d left the hotel barefoot. I gave the driver my address and sagged into the back seat, watching the other vehicles glide along the magnetic lines around us.

Running away again.

There was a hollow ache in my chest, where my heart used to be. I pressed my fists against my temples, wanting to forget the evening, the afternoon of preparation.

The humiliation
.

I stared out of the window at the city lights flashing by, but didn’t see any of it. I kept re-living that moment.

I asked him to stay away.

Almost as though he cared about me.

I didn’t want you to be hurt
.

The twenty-minute journey to my quiet beachside suburb was over before I knew it, and the moment I climbed out of the Mag-Car, the copious quantities of alcohol hit me. Standing dry-eyed as the Mag-Car headed back to the city, I had a moment of clarity. I hitched up my skirt and padded down the path, away from my house and onto the sand. Yes, the balls of my feet were burning now, from those damned heels. I’d never wear stilettos again. I squidged across the still warm sand to the shallows, and stepped into the water. It swirled up to my ankles, soothing and gentle, taking away some of the sting. Shame it couldn’t fix my heart the same way. The dress would be ruined, but I planned to throw it out with the trash anyway.

New fears crowded me. How would I face Matthew after this? I only had one day left in the office before my vacation, but what if he was there? What were the chances it would all be forgotten when everyone went back to work after Christmas? Would it be that easy?

I could avoid Matthew to some extent, but I sat
next
to Ben. I hung out with him at lunchtime. He helped me shop for my new phone and configure the virus protection on my private laptop. It was Ben, by my side every day at work whom I relied on for countless tiny things. Ben who picked me up from the airport, when there wasn’t a Mag-Car available.

I stared dry-eyed at the surf, the flecks of foam sparkling in the moonlight. It was Ben to whom I turned for friendship, and he was the last person I’d ever expected to betray me.

Why had he done this?

His words nagged at me.
Matthew goes for chicks that are already taken.
Why had I been so attracted? Ben thought Matthew was a jerk, and maybe he was right. I wished I’d come to this realization by myself, instead of having it shoved in my face by Ben.

My brain spun in useless circles.
Think, Dorothy
. I couldn’t face either of them. It was drastic, but maybe I could ask for a transfer back home? My boss knew I never meant to stay here permanently. Could I get reassigned?

A flash of light in the sky caught my attention. A shooting star. They were impossible to see in Emerald City, with so many skyscrapers blocking the view.

I watched as it arced across the sky, a brilliant pinprick against the darkness, before burning out. What should I wish for? That I never saw Ben again? No. That was the cowardly way out. I closed my eyes for a second, listened to the gentle splash of water around me, and wished hard.

It was big-girl-panties time. I had to go back to work the next day, and resume my life as though tonight’s disaster had never happened. While I’d stood there, lost in thought, the water had risen to mid-calf. The dress was ruined, but I didn’t care. My trip home was a perfect chance to reconstruct my shell, my armor against the world. To lose myself in anonymity again, and find where I truly fit. This wasn’t me. My outfit and everything about tonight were like a dress-up costume. Tomorrow I’d go back to being Dorothy again.

I dug my toes into the wet sand, and hitched my dress a little higher. I was hungry. I’d go and open a bottle of wine and raid the larder for snacks, and then indulge in some crappy chick-flick movie while I waited for the night to be over.

I took a deep breath, and that was when I heard it.

The sound of footsteps splashing through the sea. Close by. Approaching me.