Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

“I don’t know, K. One day we were fine. The next day he was telling me he needed to be on his own or some crap.” I twist a strand of my hair around one of my fingers. “I texted you the day it happened,” I finish, a hint of accusation creeping into my voice. “But you didn’t respond.”

Kendall ignores my tone. “I’m only allowed to use the phone here twice a week. Besides, we’ve had a conversation since then and you didn’t even bring it up.”

Her idea of having a conversation is her talking while I listen, but she’s right this time. I could have mentioned the breakup if I had really wanted to. “What did he tell you?” I ask. “What’s the story with the EMT girl?”

“What EMT girl?” Kendall asks. “He didn’t even mention another girl. Just that you guys broke up.”

“He’s hanging around with this redheaded chick named Alex. She’s one of the medics who have been taking him on ride-alongs. You think you can try to find out more?” Part of The Art of War was all about spies and alliances, and no one is more powerful to have on your side than Kendall.

She sighs. “Not sure what I can do from here, but I’ll try to sneak an email to him if I run out of phone time. I swear, our dad comes to town and a month later Jay is acting like a deadbeat. Coincidence? I think not.”

“Are you ever going to talk to him?” I ask. “Your dad?” It feels good to focus on someone else’s problems for a second.

“I don’t know. I probably can’t avoid him forever, but he doesn’t get to breeze into my life after seventeen years like nothing happened. Maybe if he’d been around at all, my mom would be less of a psychotic bitch to everyone.” Kendall huffs. “Now that I’m still doing okay on the show she’s saying she won’t pay for me to go to college until I’m twenty-one and have given modeling a ‘fair try,’ whatever the hell that means. Why can’t she accept the fact I’m not her?”

The whole situation sucks. It’s wrong of Kendall’s mom to force her to be a model. I get that she gave up her dream of modeling to be a single mom, but that doesn’t mean Kendall owes her.

“What about applying for student loans?” I ask.

“My mom would have to sign off on them, I think. And she won’t. Besides, why should I go into massive debt just because I refuse to be her little puppet?”

“You could probably get a soccer scholarship somewhere. Didn’t you get scouted last year?”

She sighs again. “Not by anyone good. And I’m not even sure I want to play soccer at college.”

“What? Why?” Kendall is one of those girls who are naturally good at sports. She hasn’t practiced all summer, but when she comes home she’ll still dribble rings around me. I can’t believe she’s thinking of giving it up.

“I don’t know. I feel like soccer is a high school thing. I want college to be a whole new life, you know? But I want to go someplace cool, like NYU,” she says. “We did a shoot with some of their photography students yesterday. It was amazing.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re having some fun at least.”

“What? Hang on.” Kendall says something harsh to someone in the background. She’s probably giving the finger to one of her housemates or some poor production assistant. “Apparently my time is almost up,” she says. “But, hey. My mom’s doing the annual trip to Costa Rica again this August. Ask your parents if you can come. You could crash in my room . . . or my brother’s. The time-share is paid for so all you’d need to do is save enough for the airfare. Maybe the right atmosphere would heat things up again between you and Jay.”

I imagine a full week partying on the beach with Kendall and Jason while their mom downs glasses of expensive champagne on the veranda. Me in my tiniest bikini. Jason just buzzed enough to find me irresistible. Sun. Surf. Sand. Sex. Talk about exploiting my enemy’s weaknesses. Not to mention dividing and conquering. It would work, but there’s no way I can afford it.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I can’t come up with that kind of money. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. Bianca and I are kind of working on a plan.” I’m glad Kendall is out of phone time. I don’t feel like listening to her make fun our Dead Chinese Warlord strategies. Better to wait until they work and then tell her the good news.

“Bianca? What does she know about dating?”

“She’s really smart, Kendall. She knows a lot about everything. We’ve been practicing soccer together while we strategize, and her footwork has really improved too. I’m trying to get her to try out for the Archers with us this year.”

Kendall makes a snorting sound. “Smart doesn’t make you good at dating, Lainey. Or soccer. Bianca seems nice and all, but she’s only been on varsity for a year—not exactly select team material.”

I start to protest, but Kendall swears under her breath. “I have to go,” she repeats. “They’re threatening to take my phone or kick me off or some shit. Stupid rules. I swear! Anyway, do what you have to do, but do it quick, because the longer you and Jason stay apart, the harder it’s going to be to get back together.”

She’s right. I know it.

I have to step up my game or I could lose Jason forever.

Two days pass and Jason still doesn’t call. I spend my downtime at work rereading highlighted passages from The Art of War. I remind myself not to be reckless or afraid or prideful or obsessively worried.

“Get this.” Micah slides a tray of Death-by-Chocolate-Moose Brownies in the pastry case. They smell like my grandma’s house, warm and sweet. My mouth starts to water.

“Yeah?” I shake the contents of the blender into a tall eco-friendly cup and top it with an uneven spiral of whipped cream.

“Leo and I both worked last night, and I might have told him about our plan.” Micah shuts the case with a click.

The can of whipped cream slides out of my fingers and rolls across the counter, leaving a trail of white foam behind. The girl waiting for her blended ice coffee taps her dark purple fingernails on the counter and stares at me.

“Micah!” I hiss. “Wasn’t that rule number one? This was supposed to be our secret.” I put a lid on the drink and hand it to the girl.

“Straw?” she asks, as if I’m the world’s biggest idiot.

“Over by the napkins,” I snap back, like she’s not very smart herself.

Micah pulls a towel out of his back pocket and swipes at the trail of whipped cream. “What’s the big deal? You told Bianca.”

“Bianca basically came up with the plan. The big deal is that if word gets out this isn’t real, it’ll get back to our exes and we’ll look like idiots.”

“I’m sorry, but he knows we’ve been hanging out,” Micah says. “Would you rather I told him some of those PG-13 stories?”

My face gets hot. I glance quickly around the front of the coffee shop. Ebony at her usual table, sipping a latte and reading the Riverfront Times. Monochrome Girl rocking a mix of plum and indigo hunched over her computer. Five tribal masks grinning demonically. No one is paying us any attention.

“Okay. So you told him. So what?” I start mentally calculating how many people Leo could tell, and how many they could tell, and how many degrees of separation there are between practically invisible Leo and soccer superstar Jason Chase.

Micah picks up on the look on my face. “No, it’s cool. He was actually wondering if you might be willing to fake-date him too.”

“What?” I screech. “Why? I’m pretty sure Leo hasn’t spoken one word to me since he started working here.”

“Chill,” Micah says, lowering his voice. “It’s kind of a hard thing to ask a girl to do, but since you’re already doing it . . . He figured you’d say no, but he’s willing to pay you and everything.”

“Pay me?” The image of me and Jason on a beach in Costa Rica, half naked, both of us with drinks in our hands, flashes before my eyes. “Does he think I’m a hooker?”

Micah’s eyes flick momentarily to the hem of my miniskirt. He coughs into his hand. “Why would he think that?” He ducks out of the way as I go to slug him and then continues, “Forget it. I’ll tell him you’re not down with the idea.” He swings his towel in a circle as he heads back to the kitchen.

“Hang on,” I say. “Tell him I’ll think about it.” After all, I am supposed to be seizing opportunities that arise. “What about us? It’s your turn. Dare I ask where you’ll be taking me next?”

“Don’t worry.” Micah snaps his towel at me and I jump back. “I’m working on something for us,” he says. “I’ll be in touch.”

It’s a couple of days later when Leo and I both work an opening shift.

“So,” I say, hopping up onto the prep table, my hip just inches from the edge of the cutting board. I can’t help but grin. There’s something empowering about knowing a guy wants to date you, even if it’s only for pretend.

The knife blade wobbles in Leo’s hand, but he keeps dicing. “So,” he says back. His pile of tiny ham cubes grows in size.

I look him over. He’s about six feet tall with brown hair and gray eyes. Not thin, not fat. Jeans. Polo shirt. Nice tan. There’s nothing wrong with him. There’s just nothing that really stands out about him either.

“Micah says you have a proposition for me.” I pluck a piece of ham from the top of the mountain and pop it in my mouth. The saltiness makes me wince.

Leo nods. He adjusts the brim of his cap. “Two hundred up front,” he blurts out. “Another two hundred if it actually works.”