Page 51 of Joey

“More questions about that later,” Wald says, pointing to me. “But right now”—he turns to Brooke—“you’re good?”

“Good? I don’t even know what’s happening!”

“Just go with it,” Huck says. “It’s gonna be fun. Hell, it’s already fun.”

“Fun,” she says, like she’s trying out the word. “We’re gonna have some kind of orgy? Gang bang? That kind of fun?”

Huck looks at me and laughs.

“Fuck all of you,” Brooke says. And then she grabs her suitcase and starts wheeling it down the hallway. “I’m going to get changed.”

“Joey’s bedroom is the last one on the left,” Wald says. “You stay with him.” Then he looks at me all serious. “You do have to fuck her first.”

“I heard that!” Brooke calls.

“But she’s technically mine,” Huck complains.

“I can still hear you!”

“Just get dressed in something wintery,” Wald calls. “We have memories to make!”

“Look, you guys,” I say, lowering my voice so Brooke can’t hear me. “I’m not into it. If you two want to do this, fine. I’m not gonna interfere. But don’t piss her off, OK? I need her. And she’s sorta perfect for this job.”

“Why would this piss her off?” Wald asks. “I’m not gonna fuck her over. I like her. I’m gonna make her feel good.”

“I know,” I say, looking down the hallway. “But she’s got this idea in her head that she and I are a thing.”

“We did sort of plant that idea,” Huck admits.

“Yeah, we did. And you know how girls are,” I say. “They like to feel claimed. And if she thinks I’m not doing my job in this fake fiancée scheme—not playing my part, so to speak—then she might walk out. Or worse, fuck things up for me on purpose.”

“She won’t do that,” Wald says.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Do you even know who she is?” he says.

And our laughter is loud.

But underneath I think we’re all thinking the same thing.

No.

We really don’t know who she is.

I walk down the hallway and knock on my bedroom door. “Hey,” I say. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she calls back.

I open the door and find her pulling on a pair of boots. “Someone please, for the love of God, turn the AC up.”

I smile and hold up a finger. “BRB.” Then I walk back down the hallway and adjust the AC to snowstorm levels.

When I go back to the room she’s looking at herself in a mirror over the chest of drawers. “How’s this?” she asks, turning around. “Wintery enough?” Then she scowls at me. “You can’t wear that.”

I’m wearing a pair of old jeans and a plain blue t-shirt. “I don’t even have winter clothes,” I say, looking her up and down. Because she’s damn cute. Brooke is wearing light-wash jeans with a few strategic rips in the thighs, brown leather knee-high boots, and a brown hoodie that says ‘Ski Zermatt’.

“Have you skied there?” I ask, nodding my head to her hoodie.