The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 66

Sam does a double take when she sees what's inscribed on the billboard he is wearing. It's an extremely flattering photograph of the semi-nude, muscled Thor. Not the god himself. Not even Chris Hemsworth, but Thor from the gym.

The lettering below reads: "You want to build that six-pack before you drink it."

The other human billboards are all similarly decorated. Sam even spies one of Lydia, resembling Wonder Woman.

Gawd!

Sam has to admit Brian's tactics are vivid.

Her cellphone buzzes. She reads the text message on it.

"Who is it?" Brian says.

"An old friend."

He glances over at her and grins. "Aren't you lucky you're not a lawyer?"

"Huh?"

"Maybe I should rephrase that to 'aren't you lucky your pants ... or maybe your leotards aren't on fire'?"

Sam has to grace to blush. "Look, I don't have to share every aspect of my life with you."

"Particularly when it involves a six-pack." Brian's tone is mild.

Huh? OK, this time she doesn't get the reference at all. Maybe she's slow, but it's been one of those days. Besides, she has to text back to the sender.

'OK. LET'S MEET AT SIX.'

Sam peruses the schedule her private investigator gives her.

He says, "She's regular. Every Wednesday and Friday nights, she leaves for Hatha Yoga classes at nine. She comes back only at eleven."

"Great."

He eyes her shrewdly. "I draw the line at breaking and entering."

"Did I ask you to break and enter her apartment?" Sam says innocently.

"Don't do anything foolish."

"Who's doing anything foolish?" Even as she says it, Sam's blood begins to churn in her ears in that sssssh-sssssh sound that clouds her hearing and agitates her brain. Brian is right. She just can't lie.

It is two weeks before the trial. Brian has been to see his lawyer every day, preparing for the case. Preparing for the cross-examination by the prosecutor, who happens to be a hard-nosed divorcee who specializes in grinding men to dust.

"Assistant DA Norma Hennessey is a tough bitch," Karen Sandler, his attorney, warns him. "She has been a rape victim herself, and she hates all men."

"Yippee for me," Brian says.

"I'm going to bring up your fuck defense."

"Yes."

"Good. I've asked him for a deposition. He's coming in into testify on your behalf."

Brian's face softens. "He's all right."

"Unfortunately, the prosecution also dug up your old hospital records. The ones that suggest a childhood history of abuse."

Brian's stomach tightens. "The abuse was done to me."

"Yes. And they are going to bring up the correlation between childhood and adolescent abuse to violence in later life. They are doing all this not to make the jury sympathize with you ... although they will ... but to paint you as a possible rapist, especially since you don't have a track record of misdemeanors."

Karen is right. The situation for him is glum. He won't be able to prove that he didn't do it. Especially with that hanging A.D.A., who is said to put a pox on all men for what one of them did to her.

"If they decide to convict you," Karen says gently, "let's hope the judge will be lenient. It's only your first offence, and it may have been substance-related. With good behavior, you can get out in five years."

Five years! That's five years too plenty, Brian thinks. His spirits sink to the bottom of his Gucci loafers, which he may not be wearing in a while longer.

"Hey." Karen's hand snakes across the table and clasps his. "You take care of yourself, you hear?"

She doesn't say it, but he knows what she means. In prison - with his looks and unsolicited fame, and especially because he will be a convicted rapist - he'd be a target for the hardcores. And whatever they do to him will be far worse than what his father had drunkenly visited upon him that night so long ago.

In five years, there's no way you won't be scarred from that.

Brian feels particularly vulnerable when he comes home to Sam that night. She greets him at her apartment - the one he has helped allow her to keep - with a kiss and a hug.