“Shit.”
She opens the door and jumps out, wearing out the already soft shoulder with her pacing.
“Get back in here!” I yell at her, rolling down her side of the window.
“No!” She shouts back and starts walking in the direction of downtown.
Seriously. Of all the many ways to waste my bloody time, this is the one I’m stuck with?
I slam the door shut behind me and start after her, my Jordans crunching the loose dirt along the side of the road. Beth spins around when I grab her by the shoulder and I’m tempted to shake some sense into her thick skull.
“And just where in the hell do you think you’re going, huh?” I shout at her and her eyes light up with defensive rage.
“I cannot do this. I don’t want to do this! This isn’t worth it. You are not worth it.” Ouch. Much to my dismay, something in her words sting.
I shove her away from me and step back, staring at her with her borrowed dress and unkempt hair both flopping carelessly around in the wind. Her shoes are worn and severely out-dated yet somehow she can manages to pluck up the unmitigated gall to scowl at me?
“And just who the fuck do you think you are?” My jaw tenses as I try not to lose complete control over my fraying temper.
“Do you think I want to marry you? Do you somehow think I derive even a modicum of pleasure from knowing that even though fraudulent, I am being bonded to you in any way?”
Her cheeks flush but her eyes remain defiant and I’m determined to squash every bit of gusto that she seems to have stolen from someone much more worthy than herself.
She crosses her arms across her chest and I take a step towards her, my shadow towering over her in an appropriately ominous tone.
“You think you’re at a disadvantage here? What do you bring to the table? Your citizenship. You think that somehow makes you special?”
“It may not make me special, but it’s exactly what you need!” she retorts.
“I need to not be deported, you wench. That is what I need! If there was another way to do it, I’d do it. I’d much rather go to hell on a bloody unicycle than marry you. But here I am, enduring the very sight of you because this is mutually beneficial. Not because I want to and certainly not because I want you.”
“Screw you!” she barks back but her bite doesn’t hurt at all this time.
“You wish.” I make a face that I can see reflected in her shimmering eyes.
“Get this straight right now, Beth Hendrickson. I don’t want you. I don’t want to be married to you. You’re nothing to me. You’re worth nothing-”
I catch her hand mid-air and stop her weak attempt at slapping me.
She tries to pull her wrist away, but my hold is firm.
I can see her bottom lip quiver before it disappears between her teeth.
“Get the hell back into the car so we can go to the god damn Attorney and get the bloody information we need to make sense of this shit we’re in.”
I can hear her shoes scuffling with the dirt as I drag her behind me, but I’m too pissed to care.
She yelps when I open the door and push her inside. “You get out of this car again you’d better be prepared to fucking walk because I will leave your ass in the middle of the highway. Got it?” I growl at her and her eyes stare back at me wide but dimmed.
Good.
That’s exactly where I want her.
Firmly in her damn place.
9
There’s no confusion in my mind whatsoever about why this sharply dressed smooth-talker standing across from us, leaning against the polished mahogany table, is Maverick’s Attorney. He reeks of privilege and shady business so much, I’m certain it’s a personalized fragrance bottled and sold to morons like them at an obscene price.
“So, let me get this straight,” he says, crossing his Manolo-clad legs at the ankles, showing off his bright red socks in deep contrast with his well tailored, three-piece navy-blue suit.
“You ignored my warning for about six months that your visa was approaching expiration and now you’re two months shy of deportation and you want little miss...what’s your name again?” He barely glances at me.
“Beth,” I mutter with a straight face, wanting to be anywhere but here.
“Right, Beth. You want to force Beth to marry you so you can stay here?”
“Nobody is forcing her.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs. “She doesn’t look particularly thrilled to be here.”
Maverick casts a sideways glance at me. “That’s just her face. It seems to be stuck that way.”
I ignore his childish jab and get down to the facts. “I don’t think anyone put thought into this and because I’d like to avoid jail at all costs, I would like you to walk us through the process. And I’d like you to do it thoroughly.”
“I can imagine.”
“Does it really have to be two years?” I plead and he nods, running his hand through his hair.
“Ideally. It creates less problems that way. Sure, he’s the one that would end up deported if it’s ever revealed that this marriage is fraudulent, but you’re the one going to prison here.”
“Fantastic,” Maverick groans.
“Don’t worry, I’ve seen couples with less hope of survival make it through this process and with my expert assistance this will all be a piece of cake.”
By the time he’s done explaining the ingredients needed to make this cake my head is spinning and I’m out of breath. Perhaps I should switch my intended major to acting because I’ll be putting on the show of my life with this whole sham.
“So I guess we won’t be doing this today then.” I wince, looking down at my notes. This false wedding is actually going to be more work than I thought.
“You want me to actually rent a tux and take photos with her?” Maverick asks after a few moments of being unnaturally quiet.
Of course that’s all he got from the laundry list of things to do. He’s so vain!
“It’s your ass on the line here, Maverick. This could have been avoided.”
“I’m sorry, am I the ‘this’ you’re referring to?” I ask, tired of being treated as though I’m not even in the room.
Mr. Da’Souza reluctantly turns to look at me with a fake smile on his face. “Listen, Rebecca.”
“It’s Beth.”
“Whatever. My client here-”
“Let me just stop you right there.” I sit upright in the chair. From the corner of my eye, I see Maverick turn to look at me. It’s the first time either of them have actually acknowledged me properly since I entered the room. I can deal with a lot of things, but after Maverick’s damning speech on the highway, I think my tolerance took a nosedive in competition with my pride.
I couldn’t even snap back at his hostility. I’m accustomed to Maverick’s physical torment, but I never assumed his verbal assaults would wind up being worse.
My self-esteem took a hit, sure, but I’m not about to have them trample over me here too. This is as much my life as it is Maverick’s and I will not press my back against the floor while they stomp their polished boots all over me.
“I’m not sure if you were paying attention,” I snap, “but I’m about to become his wife.”