Reality Check (10 page)

T
he wind blew in Charly's face as she made her way down Michigan Avenue, the sorta downtown area Lola was talking about, which wasn't really downtown at all. To her left was a drugstore; to her right, across the street by the bookstore, a large group of people sang while they walked. Charly smiled, enjoying the vibe of Chicago's Gold Coast, which was where the upper crust of the city lived. She looked down at her phone. Mason's text had asked her to meet him at the Water Tower, and though she wasn't too familiar with the area, her phone's GPS told her she was less than a block away. And she knew of the Water Tower Place shopping complex from her mother. Anytime her mom would shop somewhere other than their small town or a local mall, it was big news.

Charly's heart skipped as she approached the tall structure, then fluttered when her hand pulled open the heavy door trimmed in gold and she stepped inside the building, greeted by the sight of escalators in front of her. She was only a couple minutes away from seeing her boyfriend, and she was nervous. And it wasn't a good feeling either. Mason had been a pain in her butt for all the wrong reasons, and she didn't understand why, but somehow she felt it was all her fault. But she hadn't done anything, she reminded herself. There was no way she was going to let Mason make her feel guilty for his insecurities and his jumping to conclusions, which is exactly what he'd done. He'd hopped from one wrong idea to another, until he'd pieced together a lopsided puzzle with pieces that didn't match.

“Excuse me,” Charly said to a couple who were blocking her way, then stepped on the escalator. She was going to meet him on the second floor.

A hand was on her shoulders, squeezing her collarbone from behind. Without turning around, Charly knew it was Mason. “Aren't you the star from TV?” he asked jokingly, sounding like the younger girls Charly had met in the airport when she'd gone to pick up Mason in New York. “I saw your commercial,” he said, his tone now different. “It was nice. Very nice, Charly. You're good for the camera. Really.”

Charly turned and smiled. Mason's compliments meant a lot to her, and so did his expression. His ultracute face had the same welcoming expression she'd remembered, and it made her feel good. There wasn't a scowl or unspoken accusation on it. His lips spread until his grin matched hers. “Thank you, Mason. I'm glad to see you're back to your old self.”

Mason grabbed her hand, pulling her down the ascending stairs. “Come on,” he said to her, then apologized to the people who were behind them as they walked by and Mason's shopping bag bumped them.

Charly laughed. It was just like Mason to do something so backward and make it seem so right, she thought, going down the wrong way. With him, whatever was meant to go down he made go up, and vice versa. That was one of the things she'd always loved about him. He didn't fit into the world; he made the world fit him. Just like she did.

“I was just thinking we should've met near the chocolate-popcorn spot you love so much. It's just a train ride or two away from here, I think,” he said.

Charly beamed. Sure, she wanted her popcorn. Who didn't and who wouldn't? “Chocolate and caramel with pecans?” She poked out her lips as if pouting, then puppy-dogged her eyes.

Mason shook his head, tightening his grip on her hand and pulling her outside onto the street. He laughed out loud. “This way. And, Charly? Stop the dramatics and save it for the cameras!” He glanced at her. “Yes, you can have your chocolate and caramel popcorn.”

“With pecans, not walnuts? The biggest size they sell?” she asked, her pout still on her face.

Mason reared back his head and pressed his lips together in thought. He shrugged. “I thought we could shoot over there
after
I go buy this hat I saw. But . . . ?” he trailed off.

“But what?” Charly asked, excited and a bit confused. She didn't understand his hesitation. He knew she'd want her favorite treat; she always did. “But what, Mason?”

He smiled, then held up the shopping bag he held. “But I decided to get it first and bring it to you. Kinda like a I'm-sorry-for-being-a-pain gift.”

Charly let go of his hand, then wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you, Mason. That's so sweet.” She finally released him, then took the shopping bag and began digging in it.

“Wait.” He drew his brows together. “Don't thank me yet. I didn't get the biggest size.” He shrugged again. “I couldn't afford the biggest and the hat. Sorry.”

 

The night was moving fast. Too quickly, Charly thought, walking down the street holding on to Mason's hand as if she were a toddler and he her protector. They'd been having such a good time that she was afraid to let him go. It seemed like forever since they'd been so close, just hanging out and talking about nothing and everything.

Mason stopped on the corner, pulling her back so she wouldn't walk into the street. “So, what now?” he asked, gripping the shopping bag that housed her popcorn.

Charly smiled, straightened his new hat, and shrugged. “Well, there's this party going on tonight. It's supposed to be a big deal, I think. And I'm expected to go because it's for the cast of the show.”

Mason nodded. “That's cool. I didn't expect to get all of your time. I'm just glad to be able to hang out with a celebrity.” He forced a smile.

Charly punched him in the arm. “You're coming with, right?”

He made a big deal of rubbing where she'd punched. “You're stronger than I thought,” he said. “So you want me to go?”

Now Charly rolled her eyes. “Of course. Why would I bring up the party if I didn't want you to go?”

He shrugged. “Maybe because I couldn't afford the biggest popcorn,” he joked, but Charly could tell that he was disappointed because he'd said something about it twice. He mentioned it as soon as they'd left the hat store and now.

“Whatever. So is that a yes or no?” She held up her hand, trying to beckon a cab. “I need to run by the hotel, change, and check on Marlow. Oh, and get Lola . . . which means I should get Marlow too. I think everyone will be at the party, so there will be no sitter for her.”

Mason playfully rolled his eyes. “I don't know about Marlow. But Lola would be a good idea. She has my clothes in her bag. She was convinced we were staying in the city, especially after I told her my older cousin lives on the West side and will let me crash at his spot. So she insisted—this was after she hunted me down and told me you'd be in town. She even sprung for the trip here . . . and you know she's cheap. But that's your girl. Your ride-till-y'all-die true one. You should know . . . she's your best friend.”

“That she is,” Charly said, thinking of how much Lola had looked out for her. A cab pulled up in front of them, and she reached out and opened the door. “Let's go, Mason. We gotta get dressed and show the crew how partying is done!”

 

The water would've been too black to see if it hadn't shimmered like billows of silk under the moonlight. White ball lights were strung on poles that surrounded the patio and pool, outlining the yard, which stretched to the shore. Music blasted from a stage constructed five feet high, which had as many speakers as it had local band members.

Charly nodded, petting Marlow, who she'd insisted come along. She wasn't comfortable leaving Marlow in the hotel holed up in a carrier. “This is cool, right?” she said to Mason, who stood between her and Lola. Lola was gazing across the yard.

Mason agreed. “Yeah. This is actually real cool. I don't usually go for live bands, not unless it's like The Roots or somebody big, but this band is pretty tight.”

Bobbing her head to the music, Charly realized Lola's body was there, but her mind was clearly somewhere else. “Lola? Lola?” She reached her hand across Mason's chest, then snapped her fingers in Lola's face to get her attention. “Lola?”

“What?” Lola asked, fixing her small red dress that clung to her curves.

Charly and Mason laughed.

“Good show, Charly,” someone called out.

“Thanks,” she called back.

“What?” Lola asked again. “Did you want something?”

Mason really laughed, then adjusted his jeans, which he wore with a button-down shirt, a fresh pair of sneakers, and the new hat he'd bought. “No, we don't want anything, but obviously you do,” he teased.

“Just go see him, Lola. Talk to him,” Charly said, nodding her head toward where Sully stood, then rearing back her head when she saw he was checking out Lola as much as Lola was digging on him. “I know I probably made him sound awful and rude, but Sully's cool. He's real.”

“You won't be mad? I mean, I did come here to hang with you. We haven't seen each other in—”

“There's nothing I can do for you that he can,” Charly said, cutting her off. “Besides, you gave me my present, and I couldn't thank you enough.” She winked at Mason.

“Well, here, let me take her,” Lola said, taking Marlow from Charly and setting her on the ground. “Dogs always serve as good conversation excuses with guys, for some reason. Animals and sports.”

“Nah. Not this time, Lola,” Charly warned.

“No?” Lola asked, shaking her head. “You mean I can just be myself?”

Charly nodded. “Yep. Only yourself. He hates phony people, according to him.”

Lola nodded. “Cool. I hate pretending anyway. If I don't have to talk sports, he's my kinda dude.” She walked away with Marlow pitter-pattering next to her.

Mason grabbed Charly's hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Ready? You said you have to be here, so I guess that means we should make the rounds before we disappear by the water. I think it'd be nice to go for a walk.”

She crinkled her nose. She loved when Mason flirted, and was happy to witness it face-to-face. Their relationship had been built over the phone after she'd left Illinois and moved to New York, so they'd never really spent quality time with each other. The moments they'd spent together before the relocation were equivalent to them both fronting. She'd pretended she didn't like him and he'd pretended not to know. She was just about to tell him that she was ready, that she'd love nothing more than to disappear with him, when she realized she couldn't.

“Ah, Charly . . . Charly, Charly, Charly,” Mr. Day said, making his way across the lawn.

Charly smiled, then Mason let go of her hand, making her grin fade. “Hi, Mr. Day. What are you doing here?” she asked.

He thrust his forehead in her direction as if he were playing soccer and bouncing a ball off his head. “You. Seems you disappeared, and as you know, the people on your bus had a meltdown—rightfully so, and the troops were called in.” He pointed to his chest. “I'm the troops.”

Charly gulped, trying to keep her heart down in her chest where it belonged. She was sure it was going to come out of her throat from nervousness and guilt. She hadn't really done anything wrong, but for some reason she thought Mr. Day would think so. “Well . . . I . . . They left me, Mr. Day,” she said, defending herself.

Mr. Day laughed, waving away her explanation. “Don't worry about it, Charly. I had to fly in anyway. It's a normal thing for me; I attend all the first press junkets.” He turned toward Mason. “Do you mind if I borrow her for a moment? We've got a bout of interviews to do. Well, I have one, she has many. Then she's all yours. Promise.”

Mason smiled, took off his new hat, rubbed his hand over his hair, then put it back on, adjusting it to face front. “Of course.”

“Also, we're doing the interviews differently with this show. I've teamed up Annison and Sully, and you and Liam. I think it's better not to have the partners together; that way one doesn't outshine or upstage the other. See you in there.” Mr. Day walked away.

“I'll be back as soon as the interviews are over,” she said, watching Mr. Day disappear into a huge tent that she hadn't noticed before. She'd been so consumed with Mason, she hadn't really taken a good look around.

He nodded. “I'll go find Lola. If you have to do the interviews, that means ol' boy that she's with has to do them too. Right?”

“Yes, that'd be Sully,” Charly said, nodding. “I wonder if we'll be interviewed in separate rooms, or rather on separate sides of the tent.”

“You're beautiful, Charly. You know that?” Mason said.

She leaned in to give him a kiss as a thank-you.

“Hey, Charly,” a voice called out, stopping her mid-smooch.

She grimaced and melted all at the same time. Liam's voice was making her knees turn to mush, but she hated that he'd interrupted her kissing Mason. The sound of his footsteps quickly making his way toward them made her turn around.

“Here,” Liam said, handing her a big, bulging bag. “I know you're probably a little nervous about your first set of interviews, so I thought this would make you feel better.”

Charly took the bag, weighing it in her hands. “What's this?”

Liam smiled. “Remember you told me about the popcorn you liked so much here? Well, I pulled some strings and found out where to get it. It wasn't easy, but it seems with just the description, someone knew. You never told me the name of the place, and even if you had, I probably wouldn't have found it. The place doesn't even have a legible sign,” he rattled on. “Anyway, I went to get you the biggest size they sell. Chocolate and caramel and nuts or something or other, or is it butter?” He shook his head at his own question. “Nah, it wouldn't be butter—you're not a butter type of girl. Too plain, right?” he asked Mason.