Chapter 3 Mr. Kessler

MIA

Caleb shows up at 6:25.

I know because I'm watching from my window, hiding behind the curtain like a creep. His truck is too clean for a hockey player. Black. Expensive. He sits in the driver's seat for a full minute before getting out.

I open the door before he knocks.

"You're early."

"You're not ready." He looks at my sweatshirt. The same one from this morning. "I told you to wear something else."

"I don't have something else."

He reaches into the truck and pulls out a shopping bag. Hands it to me. "Then wear this."

Inside is a dark green sweater. Soft. Expensive. The tags are still on. I check the price and my throat closes.

"I can't accept this."

"It's not a gift. It's a costume. You're playing a part." He leans against the doorframe. "Put it on. We have fifteen minutes before we need to be there."

I want to argue. I want to throw the sweater at his face and tell him I don't need his charity. But it's cold outside and my sweatshirt has a hole and my mom is watching TV in the other room, which means she'll see me leave with him.

I put on the sweater.

It fits. Of course it fits. He asked for my size.

When I come back to the door, he looks at me for a beat too long. Then he turns around. "Let's go."

The truck smells like his cologne. He doesn't play music. We drive in silence for three blocks before he speaks.

"Your apartment building doesn't have a working buzzer."

"I know."

"The stairs are cracked and the hallway light is broken."

"I know."

"How do you live like that?"

I turn to face him. "How do you live with a father who texts you threats and calls it parenting?"

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. The knuckles go white.

"Fair," he says. "We said we wouldn't ask about family."

"Then stop asking about mine."

Another block of silence. Then: "My dad is going to be at the dinner."

My palm felt cold. "You said team dinner. You didn't say family dinner."

"He owns the team. He shows up to everything." Caleb glances at me. "Just don't let him get to you."

"Does he get to you?"

Caleb doesn't answer.

The restaurant is nicer than the pizza place from last time. White tablecloths. Real glasses. A waiter in a vest who calls Caleb "Mr. Kessler."

The team is already there. Eli waves from a corner booth. Chloe is there too, because she invited herself. She gives me a look that says "survive."

And then I see him. Richard Kessler. Caleb's father. Sitting at the head of the table like a king holding court.

He doesn't stand when we approach.

"So this is the girl."

I've been called worse. "Mia."

"I know who you are." He doesn't shake my hand. "Sit down. You're blocking the light."

I sit. Caleb sits next to me. His knee touches mine under the table. I don't move it.

Richard picks up his wine glass. "Caleb tells me you're the team manager."

"I've been managing the Wolves for two years."

"And before that?"

"Surviving."

His eyes narrow. He's not used to people talking back. Good.

Chloe kicked me under the table but I ignore her.

Richard sets down his glass. "Let me be clear. I don't care if this relationship is real or fake. I care about the draft. I care about my son's reputation. If you do anything to damage that, I will make sure you never work in hockey again. Or anywhere else, for that matter."

Caleb starts to speak. I put my hand on his arm. Stop him.

"Mr. Kessler, I don't care about hockey. I don't care about your son's reputation. I care about the thirty thousand dollars you're paying me to pretend to like him." I lean forward. "So as long as the checks clear, I'll be the best fake girlfriend you've ever seen."

The table goes quiet.

Richard stares at me. Then he laughs. A real laugh, not the fake kind. "I like her. She's got teeth."

Caleb exhales. I don't know if it's relief or something else.

The rest of the dinner is a like a rich family dinner on tv. Food appears. People talk. Caleb's hand finds mine under the table at some point. I don't pull away because cameras are everywhere and his father is watching.

When the meal ends, Richard pulls Caleb aside. I hear three words: "Control her or else."

Chloe grabs my arm. "That was terrifying. You told his father off."

"I told him the truth."

"The truth doesn't pay the bills."

"Neither does lying."

Caleb comes back. His face is pale. "I need to drive you home."

"What did he say?"

"He said if you embarrass him, he'll pull the money. All of it. Yours and mine."

I close my eyes. Breathe. "Then we don't embarrass him."

In the truck, neither of us speaks. When he pulls up to my building, I reach for the door handle.

"Mia."

I stop.

Caleb doesn't look at me. He stares at the cracked windshield. "Thank you. For not backing down back there."

"I didn't do it for you."

"I know." He finally looks at me. "That's why it worked."

I get out of the truck. Walk up the broken stairs. In my apartment, my mom is asleep on the couch. I cover her with a blanket and sit on the floor next to her.

My phone buzzes. Caleb.

Press conference is Thursday. Don't be late.

I'm always late.

I know. I'll wait.

I don't know what to do with that. So I turn off my phone and watch my mom.