Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Forty

FORTY

JACKSON

W e pull up to the restaurant and I’m thinking more and more that this isn’t a good idea. My hand rests on Deer’s knee, but no matter how much I try to soothe her, that knee just keeps bouncing up and down. One of her long pink nails twists between her forefinger and thumb.

The bodyguard we brought with us exits the passenger seat and comes around to open Deer’s side. She stares past him at the revolving restaurant doors where patrons are flowing in and out of the renowned establishment.

There’s a sharp intake of breath. And then another. And another.

Each one comes faster and faster.

Deer’s knee finally stops moving, but now her chest is heaving in short bursts.

“Close the door,” I command the bodyguard. “Francis—”

“Yes, Mr. Lau.” Our private driver immediately takes off, putting distance between us and The Bay.

“Hey, Sparkles, look at me.” I give her shoulder a squeeze.

She turns, crystal blue eyes melting from wide panic to misery as I rub my thumb in calming circles over her skin.

“I-I’m sor-ry,” she hiccups between breaths.

“It’s fine.” I press my forehead down to hers. “Just breathe with me.”

We spend the next few minutes going through her exercises, and eventually she evens out. She slumps farther forward, squeezing her eyes shut and cussing. “Fuck.”

When she opens them again, shame is written all over her features—from the furrowing of her brows to the clenching of her teeth. I dig around my pockets for my phone.

“I’ll call my parents and—”

“No. I want to go back.”

“Deer, you don’t have to push yourself for me.”

“I’m not. I want to try again.” She turns to Francis, placing a hand on the center compartment to get his attention. “Take us back to The Bay, please, Francis.”

“Yes, miss.”

She sits back in her seat, collecting herself. I watch the way she steels her gaze forward and rests her palm on her chest, breathing slowly.

As soon as we pull back up to the restaurant, she’s up and out of the car before I get a chance to ask her again if she really wants to go through with this. The bodyguard we left behind watches her closely.

“Okay, let’s do this.” She smiles and anyone else looking at her would think that she is completely fine, except I can see that the sparkle in her eyes is missing. The light just doesn’t quite reach the surface; it’s left bubbling underneath, suffocating under the cloudy water.

My heart clenches, guilt squeezing it as I follow suit and get out of the car.

I hold my elbow out for her to hold onto, and when she does, there’s no hiding the way her hand tremors slightly.

I moved my parents’ reservation from the main dining room to one of the private rooms at the back of the restaurant. Normally, it would take months to get this particular reservation, but Parker’s grandfather knows the owner and was able to pull some strings to get it switched around. I don’t like asking for favors, but for Deer, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure she feels her most comfortable.

My mother’s eyes light up when we enter the room, and Deer’s entire demeanor changes into a practiced persona as she gives her a hug, exchanging greetings, before handing her a small black box wrapped with a white ribbon.

“For me?” My mother’s eyes widen as she pulls out the pair of Chanel earrings, holding them up to the light. Try as she might to hide it, I can see how impressed my mom is by the gift.

“Of course. I saw them the other week and just knew they’d look perfect on you.”

My girl knows what she is doing.

Angela tries not to appear overly enthusiastic about seeing us, but I can see the quiet awe in her eyes whenever she looks at Deer—it seems she’s also taken a real liking to her since their first meeting.

Dad watches us all with a knowing smile, and I take my seat next to him, Deer on my right.

We fall into easy chatter, with Deer leading most of the conversation as she asks my parents a litany of questions about themselves while also making sure Angie doesn’t get left out. Her voice never wavers; it’s that same practiced tone she uses when she streams.

You wouldn’t be able to tell how anxious she is just by looking at her. No, the only way to realize it is in the way her eyes dart every time a server walks into the room, tracking them, and how her shoulders stiffen whenever a loud noise from the main restaurant bangs too close, or if you somehow glimpse the fingers of her left hand tapping silently in a wave motion on her knee under the table.

It takes me a second to realize that throughout the meal she has been artfully weaving all conversation away from herself— never outright denying any questions but skirting around them in a way so she can always redirect. She keeps talking so that no one notices that she isn’t eating much of the food, moving the truffle shrimp on her plate in subtle intervals.

“Here, let me show you.” My mother searches her handbag for her wallet and proceeds to pull out a small, two-by-two-inch passport photo of my chubby five-year-old face. “Look at him!”

I groan.

“Oh my Gods, stop.” Deer carefully plucks the photo from my mom and holds it reverently. “You’re adorable.” She turns to me with a grin, and for the first time tonight, I see those sparkles gleaming in her eyes.

“Sure, sure. Let’s put that back.” I gently knock her hand away.

“No, look at you. Those cute little chubby cheeks.” She tilts her head. “What happened? How’d ya get all scowly?”

“It’s called resting grump face, RGF,” Angela chimes in.

My phone begins to buzz in my pocket, and I feel around for the power button to reject the call while still keeping my attention on the table.

“RGF? I like that.” Deer winks at my sister before handing the photo back to my mom. “Did you come up with it yourself?”

“Yup, I did.”

“Impressive.”

“Thanks, my friends even use it, too. We have this history teacher, Mr. Jefferson, and he has RGF. Last week…”

My phone begins to buzz again, and I fiddle to hit the decline button again.

Within seconds it starts to buzz for a third time.

Seriously. Who is this persistent?

I try to discreetly pull it out without anyone noticing, my attention no longer on the conversation around me.

I glance at the caller ID, freezing.

“Sorry, but I really need to take this.” I give everyone an apologetic smile, trying not to let the wariness show on my face.

I swipe accept as I make my way out of the room and off to the side so that I’m out of ear shot but still close enough to keep my eye on everyone.

“Hel—”

“We have a problem,” Phoebe interrupts.

“That sounds bad.”

“It is.”

Fuck.

“Okay, so—”

“Is Deirdre on her phone?”

“No. It’s—”

“Good. Keep her off it.”

“Wh—"

“How many bodyguards came with you to dinner?”

Is this woman going to let me get a fucking word in?

“Two,” I grind out.

“Seriously, Jackson? Two? You brought an entire horde to the movie theater where no one else was present, but you bring two to one of the most popular dinner restaurants in all of California?”

I work my jaw back and forth, not wanting to raise my voice. “Get to the point, Phoebe.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice softens on the words, and it just makes me all the more nervous. “I told Paige we needed to be quicker about all of this, but she wouldn’t—”

“Phoebe.”

“You need to get her out of there now, Jackson. She’s been doxed.”