by S. M. West
Real Liars
S.M. West
“Lies require commitment.” ~ Veronica Roth, Divergent
Contents
Playlist
1. Paige
2. Zach
3. Paige
4. Zach
5. Paige
6. Paige
7. Zach
8. Paige
9. Zach
10. Paige
11. Zach
12. Zach
13. Paige
14. Paige
15. Zach
16. Paige
17. Zach
18. Paige
19. Zach
20. Paige
21. Paige
22. Paige
23. Zach
24. Zach
25. Zach
26. Paige
27. Zach
28. Paige
29. Zach
30. Paige
31. Zach
Epilogue
Note to Readers
Other Books by S.M. West
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by SM West
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, storylines, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
This book is for your personal enjoyment only. Please respect the author’s work by not contributing to piracy and purchasing a copy for those you wish to share it with.
Cover Design by:
PopKitty Design
Edited by:
Happily Editing Anns
Leanne Rabesa
Cover Photo:
Lindee Robinson Photography
Cover Models:
Shannon Lorraine
Anthony Parker
Playlist
Listen On Spotify (https://spoti.fi/399NK8r)
“When You Are Near” – Carolina Liar
“I Want Candy” – Bow Wow Wow
“Need You Now” – Karkaz (feat. Joe Jury)
“I think I’m In Love” – Kat Dahlia
“Us” –James Bay
“Colour” – MNEK (feat. Hailee Steinfeld)
“This is the Best” – USS
“Show Me What I’m Looking For” – Carolina Liar
“Gone, Gone, Gone” – Phillip Phillips
Find some inspiration for Real Liars on Pinterest
One
Paige
“You just walked out on him?” Pippa’s disbelief is easy to detect even over the phone, although her doubt surprises me.
She’s the first to say I’m a loser magnet and sadly, this guy fits the bill. If he’s a deadbeat, I’m interested, or I used to be. Now I’m not so sure. I have numerous stories just like the one I’m sharing with her from tonight.
“Yup.” Wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear, I rummage through my bag on the hunt for my house keys. “First he’s late and then when he finally arrives, he isn’t even seated before he asks me to spot him a twenty for cigarettes.”
“He did not.”
“He did.”
“And that’s when you walked out?” My best friend’s voice climbs a notch with excitement, and I smile, wishing she were here.
My dating disasters thrill her to no end even if she thinks I’ve got bad taste in men. What I’d give to see her bright smile right now, even at my expense. Pippa at my side would make the bust of tonight worth it.
“No. I told him to buy his own cigarettes. I wasn’t giving him a dime.”
“And then you walked out?”
I chuckle at her eagerness. “Nope. I finished the wine I’d ordered while waiting for him to show up. Did I mention that he was thirty-five minutes late?”
“Shit, this guy…did he even try to make it up to you?”
“He apologized.” I wrestle with the door, exasperated at the thought of his sorry and the task at hand. “He even put some effort into it by taking my hand, stroking it while flashing a smile. Pip, you should have seen him. I’m sure he thinks it melts panties. And you know what?”
“You walked out?”
“Nuh-uh. While he was smiling and flirting, it hit me. Something told me that if I hooked up with this guy, he wouldn’t be worth it. I’d end up doing all the work.”
She belts out a laugh. “Oh my God, I love you. And let me guess, then you walked out?”
“Yes!” I shake a fist in the air, but I’m not sure if it’s in victory for avoiding further torture from my date or because my stupid front door won’t open. “I left him with the bill for my wine. Bastard.”
“Good for you. Where on earth did you meet him?”
“You don’t want to know.” My forehead lightly bumps the door and I close my eyes. “He was the first guy since Terry. I’m thinking of becoming a nun.”
Terry is my ex-boyfriend of just under a year before I recently broke things off. The icky part was that we had lived together for most of it. I’d moved way too fast with him and once we were over, he wouldn’t leave.
“Aww, babe. While black looks fab on everyone, you really shine with color.” We both snicker and she switches from audio to video—her blue eyes and blonde hair fill my screen and my lips spring into a smile. “Taking a break from the opposite sex isn’t a bad idea, but don’t write off men completely. There’s someone awesome out there for you.”
I snort, jiggling the handle with the key lodged firmly in the unlock position, but nothing budges. “This stupid door!”
My fist slams the brown metal, fed up with dealing with this problem every time I come home. It’s been a long day and an even shittier evening and all I want is to slip off my heels, change into some comfy clothes, and go to bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“This door gives me problems to open.”
Finally, the metal gives way to the weight of my body and I stumble over the threshold while the phone clatters to the wooden floor.
“Pip, sorry.” I bend to pick up the phone and we’re now back to audio.
“Your super needs to fix your door.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Scowling, I shake my head and turn on the lights in my small kitchen. “I’ve given my landlord a looong list of things to fix.”
I sigh. Renting this semi-detached house in Leslieville, a gentrified Toronto East neighborhood and dubbed the place to be, was too good to be true. I should have known better.
At the time, I was desperate to move on with my life. I finally relented and let Terry have our apartment—only for him to move out shortly after I left—and I jumped at the listing even if this place wasn’t the nicest on the street.
It’s a good neighborhood and minutes from downtown, where most of my clients are these days. And most importantly, I could afford the rent, barely, on my own. Reality bitch-slapped me when I soon discovered all that was wrong with the place after moving in.
“Is it a dump?” She must detect the sad truth in my tone.
She’s known me since birth and married my older brother, Drew. Most of our conversations take pla
ce on many levels and many don’t even need to be verbalized for the other to get it.
Right now, they’re living in New York City and neither has seen my new home. I’ve only been in this house for a month and last we saw each other, over six months ago now, it was their wedding.
“I wouldn’t call it a dump.” Setting my keys and purse on the counter, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “Let’s just say, it’s one of the last houses to be renovated in this area. I need to suck it up and make this work.”
Tilting my head back, I take a long gulp of the cold liquid. I don’t have a lot of options. While Terry and I battled for our apartment, he stopped paying his half of the rent. Foolishly, I burned through my savings, covering his sorry ass instead of leaving him high and dry.
And why? All because I wanted to believe Terry was a decent guy and that, eventually, he’d do the right thing. Leech. Asshole.
For a while there, it looked like I was going to have to swallow my pride and live with my mother and stepdad. At thirty-one, going home with my tail between my legs was the last thing I wanted to do.
Thankfully, a new opportunity fell into my lap, with the potential to make more money as my own boss, at the same time, so I took my name off the lease, leaving my ex with the apartment.
“Paige, you could have moved into Drew’s.”
My brother owns a condo, a really nice one, in the city and it’s close by. It isn’t empty right now, but the lease is coming up for renewal. I didn’t want to even think about it because it feels too much like taking a handout and I’d feel too much like a failure.
“Paige?” Pippa pulls me from my sobering thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m still here.” Exhaustion hits me like a tidal wave, tenfold from only moments before, and I trudge up the stairs thinking of my bed.
All this talk of what’s wrong with my home amplifies what’s wrong with my life. Ditching Terry was my first smart move, and Pippa is right, although I’d never admit it to her, but I am a loser magnet.
I’ve dated too many to count and tonight only proved what I already knew deep down—I need a break from men. Maybe even a permanent one.
At the top of the stairs, a chill races up my spine and I jump, screaming at a dark figure standing in the doorway to the spare bedroom. There’s something familiar about him but it’s too dark to see his face.
My fingers squeeze the open bottle clutched to my chest and water gushes all over my top like a geyser.
“Sorry.” I recognize the Eeyore-like voice.
Joel Hummel, my landlord, steps from the shadows, arms out in an ‘I mean no harm’ gesture, which is the complete opposite of what I’m feeling in this moment.
His unforgettable mutton chop sideburns and greasy, longer on the top, brown hair is slicked back from his high, sweaty forehead. I recoil, swallowing my fear.
“What are you doing here?” I barely register my voice over the thundering of my heartbeat.
He gave me the creeps from the moment we met, but I squelched the vibe in favor of completing my quest for somewhere to live. I wouldn’t have to deal with my landlord that often, right? Boy, how naïve was I?
Now he’s in my house, late at night, without my consent. It doesn’t matter that he’s the landlord or has a key, he’s in violation of our rental agreement. Blankly staring, he fidgets from one foot to the other like a child.
“You can’t just come in here whenever you want. The agreement states you have to give me at least twenty-four hours’ notice and I have to approve it before you can come in.”
“I-I-I-I was f-f-fixing the door.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the guest bedroom door. “It was at the top of your list.” He tries for apologetic, shoulders hunched in a less-threatening manner, but I’m not buying it.
Alarm bells ring in my head and adrenaline buzzes through my body as my mind races with how to get him out of here. It’s then my name comes at me, repeatedly, muffled yet frantic. With my phone still in one hand, I remember Pippa.
“Pip, sorry, one sec.”
“Are you okay? What happened?” Her questions are high-pitched.
Joel’s gaze settles on the phone and I inwardly will my heart rate to slow. We aren’t alone even if we’re the only two physically here.
“My landlord, Joel Hummel, is in my place without my permission,” I say his name clearly and slowly, as well as his violation.
He shows no obvious sign of concern for what he’s done. In fact, he seems to be enjoying this, staring blatantly at me, and a sick queasiness trolls through my belly.
“Tell him to leave now,” Pippa orders and my stomach sinks as his eyes dip from my face to my chest.
He makes no attempt to hide his fixation with my wet blouse, clinging to my breasts. My nipples poke through the thin fabric and I shiver from the spine-tingling chill of his leer.
Licking his chapped lips, he pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, and I shudder again.
“Please leave.” My arms cross over my chest.
“I-I-I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes. I thought I’d get right on the things you wanted fixed. Your list is very long, and I didn’t want you to have to wait.”
“My list wouldn’t have been long if you’d fixed those things before I moved in.”
Edging my way to the bathroom, I press my back against the wall to keep as much distance between us as possible in the narrow hallway. I snag my robe off the hook behind the door and slip it on, instantly feeling less exposed as my breathing begins to steady.
His beady eyes drink me in from head to toe and he rubs a hand down his pockmarked cheeks. If he doesn’t start to make a move to leave, I’m going to lose my shit.
“I just texted Tom, he’s on his way,” Pippa says. “Tell the idiot you’re calling the cops if he doesn’t go.”
“Well, I’ll get going.” Joel picks up the toolbox from the floor.
“Fine.” I follow him down the stairs at a safe distance. “He’s leaving,” I say into the phone and also to remind him that there is someone on the other end of the line.
“’Bout fucking time. I’m just glad Drew isn’t here—he’d have called the cops.”
I bite back a nervous snort. She’s right. My brother would jump through the phone line to protect me and the thought gives me strength.
At the bottom of the stairs, Joel turns to face me, and all sense of security evaporates. He stands between me and the front door. Going back upstairs is my only option if I want or need to get away from him.
He’s got me cornered with no escape.
“About your list. I didn’t know all those things needed fixing,” he says, as if to suggest there isn’t an arm’s-length-long list of things wrong with this place. “You know, it almost makes me think you made it all up to get me over here.”
Is he flirting? Or at least that’s what he thinks, if his blush is any indication. Flirting? Yuck. I want to punch him in the nuts and hurl.
The sinking feeling is back but, not willing to give into the helplessness, I draw on my anger. I’m pissed at my vulnerability and for not listening to my gut all those weeks ago when I cringed at our first meeting.
“Made up?” I square my shoulders. “Did you or did you not have to replace the hinge on the door upstairs?”
“Yeah.” He smirks, gathering unexpected swagger from somewhere and I’m surprised. To look at him, you’d never imagine he’d have the balls.
“Leave now and don’t ever do this again. Next time you want to come in, you must call me at least twenty-four hours before.”
“You tell him,” Pippa says.
His slimy gaze morphs into something more sinister as his dark eyes narrow into slits and his dry lips thin into a tight line. This is where I live. I should feel safe. He’s scared me but I won’t let him get any satisfaction by seeing my fear.
A loud, incessant banging on the door startles us and Tom bellows my name, threatening bodily harm if he doesn’t lay eyes on me this instant
. Joel steps to the side, looking worried for the first time tonight, and I slip by to open the door.
“Thank fuck.” Tom barges in, shirtless in grey sweatpants and sneakers.
His golden hair is in disarray and he’s panting slightly as if he ran over, which he most probably did. He slips an arm around me protectively and I sink into him, relaxing for the first time since discovering my landlord. Pippa’s baby brother is here. Thank goodness.
“Tom’s here,” I say into the phone and Pippa sighs, muttering something I don’t catch. “I’ll call you back soon. Bye.”
Tom is six years my junior, and practically my baby brother, but there’s nothing babyish about him. He towers over me and Joel Hummel at six-three, with broad shoulders, and muscles.
True to form, he doesn’t waste any time. Leaning into Joel, he growls, “Get the fuck out before I call the cops.” His menacing tone opposes the comfort I feel when he pulls me tighter.
Joel knits his dark brows, surveying how close I am to Tom. His gaze lingers for a beat or two on every place where our bodies are touching, and then, without dithering or even so much as a rebuttal, he walks out the front door.
He doesn’t rush or shake at Tom’s threat and I can’t deny I’m a little disappointed. Oh, how I wish Tom’s presence made him run, but his pace does quicken as he crosses the street to his car. He even peers over his shoulder once or twice to make sure no one is on his heels.