“Right, Leo. Yourboyfriend. We got sent everyone’s B-roll cuts today. Leo doesn’t seem like the type to frequent nerdy, game show fan forums.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of shock. Instead, I bowl my second shot yet only hit one pin. I tie up the score, though it’s not as rewarding as I’d hoped. “Looks can be deceiving.”
I’m seeing that exemplified right now. Buckley seemed like such a sweet, innocent guy when I met him in college. Here, in this bowling alley, he’s got the smarm of a Disney animated villain come to life. “Regardless, clearly you moved on pretty fast.”
“Was I supposed to be mooning over you this whole time? You dumped me.” I’ve known the sting of it, but it’s only now that I inspect the chasm where closure should be. He didn’t come home. I packed up and left. There was no further communication until now.
He edges around me, leaning over to grab his ball in near slow motion. Such a performance. “I thought you’d at least give it some time to cool, some thought.” I can’t see his face, but from his stillness, I sense a discontent. Has he reconsidered since? “That hurts, Holden. I thought I meant something to you. We were together for nearly four years. We have a history.”
“A history that includes laughing in my face and then leaving me all alone in an expensive restaurant while I cried,” I say, controlling my tone so the teenagers in the next lane don’t start listening in. “Did you forget about that?”
“Of course not,” he says, peering over his shoulder, almost wounded-looking. From behind, I wait with bated breath as he takes his turn. Never have I seen him so focused on anything other than his work.
The pink ball pendulums back with perfect form and coasts down the lane with a near sensual spiral. When it crashes into the pins, it takes them all down in one fell crash.
Buckley turns back wearing a wide, toothy smile that I can’t quite read.
Is he here to win me back, or is he here to win the breakup?
“I know you and Leo are faking it,” he says, unintentionally answering my unvoiced question. “It didn’t take long to search up Leo’s supposed fan account and see when it was made or to find out where he worked, call to file a complaint about his service, and find out he no longer worked there. Fired, I presume?”
“I think you know where you can shove your presumption,” I say, growing fiercely protective of Leo, no matter what trump cards Buckley thinks he holds. I may have earned backlash, but Leo certainly didn’t. What kind of villain stoops that low? “Leave Leo out of this, and keep his name out of your mouth.”
Buckley rolls his eyes, half shrugs. “Tell me if I’m wrong. You took this trip without me, begged Alexia to audition with you, which she declined and promptly told me about, giving me the idea to go through with this. And then, unbeknownst to us, you got the hotel concierge to play pretend with you. He needed the money, so he agreed.” Buckley sounds proud of himself for deducing all of this. I’m sure I’m not hiding much on my face. You don’t date someone for as long as we dated without learning their tells.
Damn, Alexia. “So, you assumed I wouldn’t audition, wouldn’t get cast, and then I’d see you on the latest episode and you’d get your comeuppance?”
“Something like that...” he says. “It’s your turn.”
At first, I think he means to speak, but then I look up at the scoreboard. I ignore it. “What is it you want here?”
“Give me one good reason not to tell the producers you’re in a fake relationship and have you cut from the show.” He’s practically snarling.
“Because there has to still be a smidgen of love left for me in your heart. Almost four years doesn’t disappear over four weeks.” Though, looking at him, I wonder if it could. If our love was evaporating long before the break. “What could I have possibly done to deserve this?”
“You made a fool out of me the night we broke up, Holden. Yelling and carrying on. We were the laughingstock of the restaurant,” he chides.
I rock back on my heels, confused. “That’s it? You were embarrassed one time. That can’t be the only reason you came all the way out to Los Angeles. It just can’t be.”
Buckley stops what he’s doing, looks me square in the face and with no irony says, “Can’t it? You claimed I wasn’t spontaneous, wasn’t fun, couldn’t win. I’ve been thinking about that a lot these last few weeks, and I’m here to prove that wrong.”
“Prove it to me or prove it to yourself?” I ask, stalling. Trying to find a way out of this that isn’t never-ending mortification. For me and for Leo. Leo needs that money to springboard into a new life. I refuse to let him down.
“I can send an email right now. I have all the proof ready to go,” he says.
One final idea hits me. “You’ll just be proving my point.”
He arcs an eyebrow at me. “What?”
“If you get me and Leo kicked off the show, you’re admitting you think we’re worthy opponents,” I say, heart ramping up. “You’re scared we’ll beat you, and if we don’t get the chance to go head-to-head, well, I think you and I both know we’ll spend the rest of our days assuming who would’ve come out victorious.”
His face flushes crimson. “That’s not true.”
“Fine,” I say, growing bolder. “Send the email, then. See if I care. I’ll always know the truth and that’s enough for me.” It’s a bluff. I hope he can’t see the sweat at my hairline as I start taking off my bowling shoes, ready to leave this setup.
Buckley huffs, evidently annoyed I’ve bested him at his little game. “Okay, have it your way. We’ll settle it on the show. I hope you like nationwide humiliation.”
“And I hope you like eating your words.” I stomp out of the establishment, shaking with adrenaline and happy I’ve halfway put a stop to Buckley’s fiendish plan.
