Fiancée for Rent by Elizabeth Grey

Chapter 16

Liam

Having snowshoed, hiked, and attempted to ski over the past few days, I'd been all in when Kylie proposed a night at the theater. Her old stomping grounds, I'd encouraged her to take up the offers to come perform with old friends. I didn't mind taking a back seat to her talent for a night, given that I'd been recognized everywhere we'd gone.

Yet, as I sat in my seat, took in the architecture of the small playhouse, I had to wonder what the surprise she'd worked up could be.

All I knew for sure was what I'd been told. A bunch of her old theater friends was getting together to reprise their favorite scenes, performed from memory, with a single rehearsal each this afternoon. Tonight, they'd be performed for family and friends only. What surprise could've been in that for me? I couldn't imagine as I listened to her father go on about how amazing she'd been on this stage in the past.

As I looked at the large red velvet curtain, framed by rather elegant gold and purple painted scrolling woodwork, I found butterflies in my stomach as my heart beat a bit faster than normal.

"I think you're going to be blown away, my son." her father said to me.

He'd called me son from the moment we'd played guitar together on the porch. I didn’t mind. It lets me relive the years I'd lacked that attention from my father. Even when he'd been around, he'd referred to me as Liam. It felt good. Healing, even. These people had welcomed me in,  and in a little more than half a year, we'd put them through the worry of divorce. I had no doubt they still lost sleep over their daughter's unhappiness.

"Don't give it away, Pop," Kylie's brother Alex warned from where he sat behind me.

I think I'd even won him over. He seemed to have taken a liking to me. We'd had a few conversations about his work and mine that hadn't involved him threatening to do me bodily harm if I hurt his sister. I'd need to show his picture to my bodyguards after the divorce. Even if I refused to face my emerging feelings for Kylie, divorcing this family I knew would be horrible. To not get to have another holiday here, the idea already gnawed at me. 

"I'm not," Mr. Davis boomed, his voice turning the heads of others around us.

I'd been worried about the fact that Kylie had to be here a few hours early, how I'd spend the time with her family alone, but they put me at ease in no time. Her father filled my time with a tour of the day-to-day work of a dairy farm, something Kylie had tried to shield me from. While I joked she'd owe me, I enjoyed the quality time with her father. Alex had been with us as well, and Kylie's father had treated me as an equal. I'd never had such attention from an older man, one who looked at me like a son. I felt a little guilty, but for the most part, I had a good time working on a dairy farm for the day.

"Liam, you should know, the scene she's doing, she wrote the script for a musical version of her favorite movie of all time," Kylie's mom added as she wrung her hands.

"Really? She never mentioned that," I said, gaining excitement at the prospect I'd get to see something she wrote.

"I'm not giving anything away," her father shot at Alex before he turned back to me. "Do you know what her favorite movie is, son?"

"Actually I don't, I'm sorry to say. She's never said that. Now that you mention it, I feel like a horrible person I never asked."

"Did she ever ask you your favorite song?" her mother inquired.

"I guess not," I mused.

"Then don't sweat it. You guys have busy lives. And you have years to discover each other. I love when Peter surprises me with a story I haven't heard a hundred times."

With that, the curtain raised, and Kylie stepped onto stage in a costume that looked like lingerie with a metal breastplate for want of a better explanation. When she started to sing, the pure, crystalline clear tone bordered on operatic with a vibrational quality. She enunciated every syllable with impressive ability. I looked wide-eyed at her parents, who sat the same, their attention divided between their daughter's performance and my reaction.

It wasn't until a man entered the stage in a costume that served as a poor rendition of an iconic monster from one of my father's films that the surprise dawned on me.

"Oh my god," I muttered as I looked at her parents. "Her favorite film was written by my father."

"That's right," Alex said as he slapped me on the back. "That's why she never mentioned it. She probably didn't want you to think she was dating you given who you came from. Her obsession with the late great Rodger Hendrix, well it is legendary around these parts. And, growing up, equally annoying, no offense."

"Alex," Ashley Davis admonished. "How could you say and suggest such things? I raised you better!"

"I know better," I said because, with our arrangement, I did, but rather than sound like an arrogant ass, I added." I mean about her not dating me because of whose son I am. I had to talk the girl into dating me. She'd no interest at first.

After that, we sat in silence, me in awe. Her mother's hand, which had fallen to my forearm, stayed put, unnerved me more than seeing my beautiful fake bride-to-be perform as I'd never seen her before. As I wrestled with the knowledge that one of my father's movies had been her favorite, I had to shake myself from time to time to realize the talent my Kylie had.

After the show, the makeshift after-party consisted of donated snacks and drinks, an assortment like I hadn't seen given my upbringing and the fact I'd not attended college. I stuck close to Kylie's family, who served as the best bodyguards I'd ever had. Everyone who dared to come up to meet me had been redirected, in a kind and gentle manner, to watch their step. Without words, Peter and Ashley, Alex and James, Molly, and even Charlie had all sidestepped questions when people got too starstruck. They intervened, redirected, kept the talk down to earth, and let no one get closer than a moment's handshake. Each proposal of photos had been met with either a look from her parents or once an actual removal from the circle by James. Maybe the guy didn't dislike me after all.

"You have to try a Hootdog," Charlie said as he shoved some fried thing on a stick up at me.

"I have to try a what, little man?" I asked, to which he looked at me like I was the moron who knew nothing once again.

"It's a hot dog skewered on a stick, dipped in frybread, and dunked in a vat of hot oil," Mrs. Davis helped the guy out. “It’s pretty much a corndog.”

"Whatever. They're good with mustard," Charlie stated, his voice heavy with the feigned disgust of youth for all things parent.

I took the thing and wondered what fry bread was as I bit in.

"Wow. Yes. I bet it is better with mustard."

He smiled before he went back to the food table.

"Kid is a bottomless pit," Mrs. Davis scoffed. "You don't have to finish that."

"Oh, thanks," I said as she plucked the thing from my fingers and tossed it in a trash can. "Not that it tastes bad, but man, I feel like I've not stopped eating since I got there. Besides, I know what awaits me in your kitchen, and I'm saving room for that."

"Oh, Kylie has herself a charmer. Speaking of, here comes my little actress."

When Kylie walked our way, she struggled through a crowd that wanted to chat. I shook my head, gave her a wink, my stupid smile off the charts in admiration and appreciation. When she finally made her way to our circle, I took her into my arms and lifted her from the ground. I hoped my bear hug would cover for the fact I didn't know what to say.

"Now I'm speechless. I have no words to tell you how amazing you were on that stage tonight," I stated, heartfelt truth as I put her down, held on to her at arm’s length. "Your talent is so underutilized in Hollywood. You acted everyone else up there under the table. And that voice! We need to try a duet sometimes. But, mostly, what stood out to me, what I have no words for is the writing. The way you transformed my father's story into a musical, retained the key elements, while also improving on them with song and dance, and costume... I have no words. I had no idea you were a fan of his work."

"A fan," Alex muttered. "She drove us nuts re-watching, going on and on and on about his movies, his writing, the depth of his characters, the way he made you fall in love with even the villains..."

He left off when she punched him in the arm hard enough to be heard.

"The man was a genius," she stated. "But, I am speechless from your praise. Thank you. I am so glad you liked it."

The way she looked at me wide-eyed, smiling from ear to ear, I couldn't help myself. I broke the rules. I pulled her to me, a deep, passionate kiss she'd think was for the crowd, yet had been only for me. Contract be damned.

"Tomorrow, I have my own surprise for you planned," I whispered in her ear.