The lies you love, p.2
The Lies You Love, page 2
She holds her oversized bag against her chest as she weaves in and out of people on the bustling sidewalk. As she wages war against the busy stream of foot traffic, I notice she’s wearing a dress and heels, and her hair is actually down. Fuck, is that makeup peeking from beneath her sunnies? Groaning under my breath, I realize she’s probably going on a date, and that gin and tonic is another booty call. I pick up my pace and accidentally bump into a woman.
“I’m sorry, miss,” I say, trying to sound genuine. “In a rush and didn’t mind the personal space rule,” I add, letting my gaze flick across the street to the Silver Moon. Ramsey rushes in.
The woman looks put off as she leans over to pick up what’s left of her spilled iced coffee and shakes her hands off before sliding them down her jeans.
“Sorry isn’t saving my coffee,” she snarls, straightening the purse slung across her body. Then she meets my eyes for the first time.
I swallow down the jitters. One day. Only one more day and I can act on these feelings. A month is a long time to pause real life and real urges. A month is the threshold. That’s what the scientists and doctors have found. Any longer and we get jumpy and unreliable. The woman before me is beautiful. I reach into my pocket and pull out a bill.
“Here.” I extend it to her. “I really am sorry. I’d buy you another coffee myself, but I’m in a rush to be somewhere. Next one is on me.” I’m pretty proud of my game on the flustered rush.
She eyes the money for a second. “Keep your cash. I work at Eddie’s Café. I get my coffee for free.” She smiles, winks, and pushes by me. I wad up the bill and shove it back into my pocket as I watch her walk away.
I know where she works, and she wanted me to know where she works. Sighing, I get my head back into the game. If I weren’t so struck, I would have had the forethought to invite her for a drink at the Silver Moon so I wouldn’t be a loner sitting by myself. As it stands, I’m the only guy sitting at the bar drinking sparkling water with a lime on the rim. It’s the most convincing cocktail I could think of on the fly. I do not drink on the job. My phone out, I pretend to be engrossed in it as I check all my spyware apps to see if I can trace who Ramsey is meeting.
There’s nothing obvious, so it must be someone she met in person. I hold it up to my ear so I can listen to the conversation she’s having with the guy in a corner booth. She has an untouched beer bottle in front of her, and the man has two empty glasses sitting next to him. Ramsey’s faint French accent slips into her words as she plays hard to get.
“You told me you wanted a drink. Nothing more. I am a lady,” she says, laughing coyly.
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. Usually, I’d be grateful for the entertainment, but I’m on the countdown to a month off and she’s literally schmoozing with a dude in a bar.
“Do you want to take this to the bathroom?” the man asks Ramsey.
She giggles, and says she shouldn’t, but what do you know? She’s getting up and following him into a dark corridor that houses the toilets. This wasn’t her usual M.O. before. This is the rebel behavior after. Her life was picture perfect before her mom, a French diplomat, was rolled up in a scandal that rocked the entire world. Her mom is now serving a life sentence, and Ramsey needs to be guarded for her own safety for the rest of her life. Her mother’s crimes were so horrifying that people seek to punish her daughter for them. Her father, a wealthy American real estate developer disappeared after his wife was found guilty. Ramsey doesn’t have siblings and isn’t allowed to have contact with any of her former friends. She was given the option to go back to France, where life might be easier for her, but she chose to stay in the city. Not the part of the city where she used to live, mind you, the seedier version friends from her old life wouldn’t deign to step foot in.
I listen to Ramsey get railed in the bathroom with little interest. At least I know if I’m hearing her climax, she’s not getting offed or kidnapped. I surveyed the place when I entered and didn’t see anyone I recognized as bad. That doesn’t mean they haven’t hired guys I don’t recognize yet. Ramsey lets out that weird cry she always does when she’s finishing, and the guy grunts twice like a pig with mud caught in its nose. I sip my drink and listen to the pillow talk of two people who just fucked, but who are also strangers. It’s awkward, and I’m glad I’m not the one having to deal with the aftermath of such an occurrence. Tomorrow night, I think. Maybe a different Charge Man would take her sex life more seriously. Perhaps thinking one of these men might want to cause her harm, but I can’t focus on that when actual bad guys are stalking her while she takes a casual morning run. At least I’m near her, listening to casual fucking. Or that’s how I rationalize it, anyway.
I make sure to turn back to my watered-down drink when they exit the hall where the bathrooms are located, keeping my face hidden.
“What’s your deal then, mate?” the bartender asks. His cheery demeanor is the first thing to throw me off. The second? He’s asking me a question. Bartenders at Silver Moon don’t give a fuck about anything. They do not give a shit. It’s a bare minimum establishment. “With your fake cocktail and all.”
“Had some time to kill before a flight. Trying not to drink, but like to be around it.” We’re near the airport. Which is convenient now, but it’s also why this bar is bad news with regard to human trafficking. “Where in Australia are you from?” I ask, changing the subject. “Mate?” I add for good measure.
“Brisbane mostly.” He pauses. “Where is your bag then?”
“My bag?”
“You mentioned a flight.” His eyes turn to slits as his accusing glare turns deadly.
Ah, a new guy. A new bad guy. Immediately I take note of any discerning features for my report. There’s a tattoo of some kind of bird on his forearm that looks disfigured due to a jagged tan and white scar. He has glass blue eyes and a dimple on one side of his face. I heard someone call him Hudson earlier, so that’s one piece of the puzzle that doesn’t have any guesswork.
Smiling with my eyes, I push my glass toward him and fish out a bill from my pocket and put it on the counter. “It’s in the car.” I look at my watch. “Which I should get back to if I’m going to make it through security on time.”
“Yeah, mate. Happy traveling.” He takes the cash and doesn’t ask if I want change—leaving my side of the bar to head to the back, where the kitchen and backroom are.
Ramsey will be close to the apartment by now if she didn’t stop walking, happy and sated now that she’s fucked today’s flavor of choice out of her system. She won’t go to Auden’s store because her friend will call out her behavior immediately. I bring my phone up to my ear to see if Ramsey’s talking or if she’s still with the guy, but all I hear is the swishing and fumbling of the phone rolling around in her bag and a faint blare of a horn in the distance. I also heard the same honk in real time—telling me she’s nearby. Jogging, I pick up my pace because now I’m not sure what I’m going to be handling when we get back. Is the dude with her? How did she meet him? Why was the bartender so suspect? So much for a lazy weekend. I haven’t even packed for my time off yet. Expect the unexpected, I remind myself.
My hand is on the door handle of the lobby of my apartment building when I hear, “Look what the cat dragged in.”
I recognize the voice and check my watch. “You’re early.”
Grey slaps me on the back. “No. I’m never late.”
“Same thing,” I counter. Grey reaches past me to use his fob to get into the building. Half the year, this is his home—his apartment, his to do what he wants with our condo.
A rush of cool air greets us as does the useless security guard sitting behind a desk. He’s used to seeing us together but knows little about our arrangement. “I saw her doing another walk of shame,” Grey says, following me on the elevator. I hit the button for our floor and nod. “That brings her body count up to four for the week.”
As he should be, he’s up to date on her life. As long as it takes me to craft the nightly reports, he spends just as long going over them.
“It’s a record,” I state. “Do you think…” I pause, choosing my words carefully because I know the ramifications. “Do you think we should pull the plug?”
“And what? Send her to the country? How would she expend her… pent-up energy in the country?”
I cock my head back and forth. “Ride horses? Plow fields?”
“Our girl only likes to plow one thing, and rural areas are short in supply of that one thing. I mean, she might have to get an actual boyfriend to stick around if she was somewhere with a low population. A hard dick on speed dial.”
Grey uses his key to open the apartment door and we both enter, I’m still keeping an ear open to listen for Ramsey’s movement, but when I hear the shower turn on again, I know she’s probably at home for the rest of the day and evening.
“I don’t know. Ol’ Rage hasn’t said anything about it. I think the bosses are afraid of her. Ramsey will throw a fit if we try to move her away from the city. Probably not worth the hassle she’ll cause.”
Grey slings open the fridge to see what I’ve got and makes a list of what he wants to buy. “I’ll throw a fit if they move us to the country,” he says mindlessly, rummaging. “This is the first time I’ve been anywhere cool. No ketchup? What the hell are you doing over here?” He scribbles it on a notepad on the kitchen island. We’re the rare few who still use paper lists. “Ragor doesn’t want to make waves,” Grey mumbles. “You know, since Lexington took over, he’s walking on eggshells from the way he used to run… things.”
Lexington is the reason the Charge Men aren’t robotic shells any longer, and Ragor was the old-school dictator that had little empathy for anything or anyone.
Closing my eyes, I sling myself onto the sofa. “I might have mentioned pulling the plug on her city love because everything else, too.” This forces his full attention my way. “She was just at Silver Moon.”
His eyes flare wide. “She fucked a dude there?”
I nod solemnly. “And there is a new guy tending that reeked of trouble.”
His surprise turns to glee as he smiles widely.
“He shook me down. Wanted to know my business.”
“Finally. The kind of action I can get on board with. Not just her orgasmic mewling.” Grey is just as chill as I am with regards to her sexual… addiction, but we’re also on the same page with kicking ass. That’s the fun part. “What are you thinking?” Grey asks, eyes narrowing.
I lift one shoulder. “We can’t bug the place because it’s already bugged, but we watch and wait and try to keep Ramsey from going there.” I hold a finger in the air. “Let’s use the Health Department. You know they’ll fail at something. Even if they don’t close the joint down completely, if she knows it’s not sanitary, she’ll steer clear.” At least, I think she will.
Grey guffaws. “Man, she fucked a stranger in a dirty bar bathroom and you think the Health Department will work? I admire you for many reasons, but this is not one of them. Give me a couple days, I might have something a little better than slapping the Silver Moon with a B minus.”
Sighing, I agree and pass the baton of control early, giving him any detail I’d want to know if he were switching shifts with me. The daily report is still expected because one can never deviate from the regimen.
“Any grand plans?” Grey asks.
I hear Ramsey start to blow dry her hair. It takes her eleven minutes, almost always. “The usual,” I respond, lowering the volume on my earpiece. “My friends are coming to the city for a bachelor party. It should be quite the rager.” I exhale noisily. “It was a long month. I’m ready to not think of anything except my stomach and my dick.”
Grey smiles with his eyes. “She really took it out of you this month.”
I’d never admit that as truth. “Aside from the couple of sketchy incidences, it’s been unbearably monotonous. That’s all.” Heading into the bedroom, I take out my duffel and cram it full of everything that can fit. I grab my toiletries from the bathroom, my laptop and charger from my office, and hand Grey the phone connected to her listening device.
My personal cell rings from my pocket, and when I answer, all I hear is club music thumping. I breathe a sigh of relief and hang up the phone. My friend Griffin calls right back, and I send him to voice mail. “Need anything else?” I ask Grey before dialing my friend again.
Grey’s listening on the earpiece, a distant expression on his face. “She turned down Auden for a night out, so I’d say I’m all set for the evening.”
I tip an invisible hat to him before grabbing the knob to the apartment door. “Protect the heartbeat,” I order.
He nods, and I lock up after myself while calling Griffin. He answers on the first ring. He screams an address and hangs up. As I descend the stairs, I carefully and quietly shed the skin of a bodyguard. I have to detach myself from that person.
It’s the only way to survive. It’s the only way I won’t worry about Ramsey constantly.
CHAPTER TWO
Auden
My ass itches and my wig feels like a thousand ants are fighting over real estate on my scalp. Granny night was supposed to be a fun way to dress for Margot’s bachelorette party. It will be fun, and we’ll be fully covered so sleazy men won’t hound us while we celebrate Margot. The thing is, I kind of want to be hounded. Wait, that’s a lie. I want to go home with a guy, I don’t want to be annoyed all night. My friends are all taken, like I used to be, so being the odd woman out hits a little different. My best friend, Ramsey, had no interest in coming tonight, and I don’t know why. She’s the wingman who is always down to clown. She would have been my savior in the current sea of married or engaged women.
Management turned us away from Privvy Fete, an expensive, exclusive club we had a reservation at, because our “costumes” were considered a hazard. The bouncer might as well have told us we looked too ugly to party there, and we’d ruin their shiny image. We’re now holding fort in the corner of some bar on the east side. Margot is refusing to drink in protest, so I’m drinking everything for her. The waitress brings more shots, unable to keep a straight face as I shake my padded granny ass against my friend Betty. Betty has been married for five years and doesn’t know how to let loose anymore. The music is loud, and the alcohol smells like bad decisions and lies. I take two small shooters from the tray and down them one after the other.
Betty looks at me, raising one painted eyebrow. “Auden, you aren’t going to last until midnight if you keep drinking like that.” She’s the cautious friend, the motherly one because she is a mother. She’s the friend who insists we stay together all night and drinks a little less to make sure there’s always a responsible adult around. Secretly, I think the motherly friends are actually just self-serving assholes who don’t want a hangover the next day and act that way under the guise of caring the most. Staring Betty in the eye, I take the shot from her hand and gulp it out of principle.
“If things go my way, I won’t need to stay out past midnight,” I reply, regretting the last shot. My stomach flails, and I inhale a deep breath to steady it. “This outfit is stupid, Margot is having a miserable time, and this place is seedy,” I say, looking around. We’re drawing stares with our getups, but not the kind of glances I want. I throw up my arms. “And men are never going to notice me. It’s so easy for you guys with your diamonds perched on your fingers, but over here on the other side of the world, I’m alone. Now I’m alone and ugly.”
She swallows hard as she looks at Margot. “No one thought they wouldn’t let us into Privvy. It’s just clothes.” She picks up the frumpy dress she’s wearing at the hip and lets it flow back down again at her ankles. “I’m sorry, but even if you took off the granny outfit, why would you want to be piss drunk when you go home with a guy, Auden? Not only is that insanely unsafe, it’s sort of… desperate. You aren’t in college anymore. You’re thirty.”
My face reddens. “Maybe I am desperate, Betty.” Desperate to get over my ex-boyfriend. Desperate to not feel like I have a hole inside my heart that will never be repaired. Desperate to not feel desperate anymore. “And I’m always safe,” I sneer, spotting what must be a bachelor party on the other side of the bar. Not surprisingly, they haven’t looked our way once.
Betty folds her arms, and I know what she says next will be unpleasant. Margot and Lindsey are keyed into our conversation, drifting closer to hear over the thump of the bass. “Wearing a condom and not getting murdered are two different definitions of safe,” Betty reprimands.
I smile at Margot. I truly don’t want to spoil her night. “You’re right, Betty.” I swallow my pride. “I’m sorry, Margot. I’m going to readjust in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Lindsey offers to come with me, but I stop her telling her I want to be alone. The look on Betty’s face tells me she thinks going alone is another unsafe decision, but not so unsafe she’ll follow me. I’m pulling stuffing out of the back of my tights and cramming it into the restroom trash can as a couple of women look on, laughing quietly as they slick on lipstick. Their dresses are tight, and they look flawless. They won’t have any trouble getting men to talk to them tonight, I think. They’re also ten years younger, my subconscious sneers. Betty had to play the age card, the thing that keeps me awake at night. Growing old, alone. I thought Walker was the one. We’d been together for six years. When I started pressing him for more commitment, he started letting me go, little by little. He was the love of my life, or so I thought. All I was to him was a comfort blanket, a scapegoat, a placeholder until he was ready to come out as gay to his family.
I was wrong about Walker in almost every way. I had a damn Pinterest board full of ideas for a spring wedding. He broke up with me in winter, and I haven’t seen him since. It was literally like he dropped off the planet. My friends said that should make things easier, but how would it be easier when for six years, all I knew was him? We lived together, ate together, took vacations together, slept in the same bed for one thousand six hundred thirty-eight days in a row. That was a record we were proud of. When he left, it felt like I was missing an appendage—an enormous piece of myself. Eventually, after my accident, I moved into a different apartment that didn’t have memories and opened my dog boutique, but one facet remains unchanged from that cold winter day. I’m alone. No matter how many guys I try to replace Walker with, they never stay. Most of the time I don’t want them to, but occasionally, I’ll be mid-coitus with some stranger who gives me eye contact while he’s fucking me, and I’ll pretend he’s more than just one night. It never moves past pretending.
