Love and Lies

by Duffey, Jennifer

  Umm, not more than to check to see that it was yours. I replied back.

  Oh, okay. Thanks.

  The longer I waited for Eric to return, the more curious I became about what exactly had been written in the journal. Knowing I shouldn’t, but unable to stop myself, I pulled the journal back from my bag where I’d put it when I sent the original text.

  Mostly it was lyrics and chords to songs. Logan's love for music astonished me. When he played, he became a different person. At some of his practices, I noticed how the minute he had his guitar in hand his face smoothed out and any worry he held drifted away. His features morphed from a guy who was concerned about what everyone thought of him to someone who was confident and knew he was good at what he did.

  Over time, he'd started singing some of his songs to me when we'd hang out between classes or after school when we studied. The words flowed in perfect pitch and tune. Logan had a gift that I hoped he'd one day be able to share with everyone, not just the locals.

  Not finding anything interesting in his journal, I closed it, careful to keep the corners from wrinkling. I didn't want Logan to know I'd skimmed through what he wrote. The bells on the front door chimed as customers came and went. When it opened, the sounds of birds chattering and the wind rustling filled the small restaurant. Even at the back we were close enough to hear the everyday sounds of life. There was the hustle and bustle of people getting off work, some of them on their phones telling someone how their day went. Up the street a little ways, I could hear horns honking with impatience.

  I thought about my parents and the end of my days at home. My dad didn't take calls at the office, and my mom refused to answer the phone. Sure, I had a driver and car pick me up from school, but he didn't talk to me either. The one personal assistant that did talk to me paid more attention to my body than I was comfortable with. Images rocked my thoughts, and I felt the muscles in my jaw twitch.

  “Carissa, princess, what's wrong?” Eric's hands cupped both sides of my face. He tilted my head back until our eyes met. “You’re crying, what happened?”

  His words didn’t register until I felt the moisture from my tears slide down my cheeks. He moved one hand to cover mine, and the comfort I felt brought more tears to my eyes.

  I tried to take a drink of my tea in an effort to regain my bearings. When that didn't work, I scooted across the bench with the intent to leave, but Eric had taken a seat on the outside of the booth and stopped me. He enveloped me in a hug and began whispering in my ear. The ringing in my ears from holding back the urge to sob made it impossible to understand what he was saying. I pushed with all my strength against his chest and moved him just enough to wedge myself between the table and him. With careful precision, he moved his arms from my shoulders to my waist and lifted me off the seat. Once my feet found the floor, I dashed to the front door.

  Still in a daze, I broke into a run as soon as I hit the fresh air. I ran as far as I could, which admittedly wasn't that far. Fortunately for me, the area was lined with trees. My breathing became labored, and my muscles cramped. As soon as I found somewhere to hide, I slumped against the tree and let go.

  When the tears stopped anger flooded my senses again. How stupid was all this? I was an emotional mess over parents who didn’t even care enough to call more than once a month. They didn’t want to know how my summer had been. In fact, they’d told me not to come home for summer. That it would be easier for me to start the next semester if I wasn’t away for a couple of months.

  Winter break? Forget it. They mailed me a gift card for Christmas that I was sure one of Dad’s secretaries purchased and signed before dropping it in the mail.

  Over and over, I pounded the tree with my fists until my knuckles cracked and blood ran down my fingers.

  The sounds of branches snapping and heavy breathing brought my rage to a halt. Pain shot up my arms, and I cursed.

  “Carissa, is that you?” a soft voice reached out to me.

  “Alec?”

  His arms crushed me, smothering me in his husky cologne and shushing in my ear. “It's okay. I'm here. Talk to me, please.

  “Alec, I can't. It's Eric. He...my parents...” I started crying again. This time, the sobs came harder than before, and I couldn't catch my breath.

  Alec ran his fingers through my hair. “Shhh, it's going to be okay. Eric called me as soon as you barreled out of the cafe. He told me everything. He was talking really fast, and I was trying to find you, but he told me what happened. Which gave me nothing, so I need you to talk to me. What happened?”

  I couldn't contain the tears; they flowed from the corner of my eyes even as a laugh snuck out at the thought of ruining the silk Armani shirt he wore, but then the pain of what was really going on hit again, and I ceased breathing. I had no idea how long we sat there hidden in the trees. He stayed with me, not saying a word, rubbing circles on my back while my tears slowed to a sniffle here and there.

  “You know you're going to have to talk to him.” Alec kept his voice down. “And quit running all the time.”

  “I know, but right now I can't. As for running, how am I supposed to face him, or you, or anyone when I'm this way? It feels like there's a dark cloud over my head, waiting to dump a lifetime of crap onto me. I don't know why or what to do.”

  “Then talk to me. We're all kind of freaked out here. I haven't seen you all day. Logan caught me in the hall after class and said you were really upset, but didn't give details. Now Eric's calling me saying you were at the diner and the two of you were going to hash some stuff out. He goes to the bathroom and comes out to you staring off into nothing and crying. No one knows what upset you. Please help me out here.”

  “Can you take me back to my apartment?”

  “Of course. Come on, baby girl.” Alec walked me back to my apartment, his arm around my waist supporting me the whole time.

  Listening to Alec replay the day’s events made me understand just how crazy all this was. My parents were the problem. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have the memories I did. Now, with Eric, just the mention of them had me running scared. I wasn't sure what it was. Monty's suspicion could have been the trigger. Or maybe it was the feelings I had for Eric and his intensity. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of a couple of my bodyguards. I didn't necessarily like it, but we enjoyed spending time with each other.

  For so long, I'd managed to keep New York in the back of my mind. The last day, my bodyguard’s hands, his wrinkled face. Now, in less than forty-eight hours, everything rushed back, and it felt like my new life had been turned inside out.

  “Feeling better?” Alec asked on our way to the art hall.

  “Not really. Do you remember just before we came here? When I snuck out of the house to go to the club with you?” I kept my head against his shoulder. The movement from walking and my sore throat from crying slurred my speech.

  “Yeah, I remember. Sucked that our evening was cut short.”

  Alec had wanted to go clubbing and invited me to along. The problem was my watchman of the evening. He didn't like going to the clubs, so he refused to escort us. I was infuriated. It drove me mad that the meatheads had a say in what I could and couldn't do, so Alec and I devised a plan to get away from the tag-a-long and return home before Dad found out. If it had worked the way we planned, the assistant would have been fired.

  I tried to drug the bodyguard with sleeping pills in his Coke. It was lame, but he wasn't really a smart guy, more brawn than brains, so Alec was sure it would work. What we failed to consider was his size and the amount of medication he would need to sleep through the night. The sleeping pills worked, but only for a couple of hours. As soon as he woke up, he called my dad and used the GPS tracking on my phone to figure out where we were. I hadn’t known about the GPS until I overheard Mom tell my dad about it later. The meathead, and Dad, showed up at the club and dragged me out, kicking and screaming.

  Dad forbid me from seeing Alec again and grounded me for a month. Of course,
I didn’t listen or follow the punishment. Alec and I continued to get together, me sneaking out of the house or Alec sneaking in. One good thing about parents not caring—they don’t really pay attention to your coming and goings. Dad’s declaration that I was grounded was more words than action.

  I had no idea why that memory surfaced. The way Alec held me while I cried and walked me back to my apartment reminded me of the way he stayed near when I needed him. Never once leaving me to myself. I wanted that from Eric, but wasn't sure I could let go enough to give back what I wanted.

  The thought of what my parents would do to keep us apart scared me. Despite their history of not giving me the time of day, they always seemed to know just who my friends, and boyfriends, were. If they didn’t approve, then mysteriously those people disappeared. Alec had been the only one to give them the proverbial finger and stick around.

  “Carissa, babe, you need to talk to Eric. It's the only way you can get past this.”

  I shook, both from fear and cold. “I will, I promise. Tomorrow.”

  Finally, we were at the entrance to the complex. “Are you sure you're okay enough to be by yourself tonight?” he asked.

  “Yes, I'm sure.”

  “You know you’re more than welcome to stay in my room. The invitation is always there.”

  “I know.” I lifted to my tiptoes to kiss Alec on the cheek before heading inside. With a glance over my shoulder I waved goodbye and went inside.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Around eleven, I settled into bed, tugged the covers up to my neck, and concentrated on the ceiling. Twenty minutes later, I heard feet shuffling outside my door, uncommon at that hour. Being a Visual Arts major meant I was in the quiet residence. The one where everyone tended to spend their time holed up in their room drawing, painting, or the like.

  The shuffling stopped momentarily before picking up again. I covered my eyes with my arm and groaned. Someone was pacing outside my door. The polite thing to do would have been to invite them in and see what I could help with. At this hour, needing help made more sense than anything else. But I wasn't in the mood, so I stuffed my head under my pillow in an effort to drown out the quiet knocking I now heard. When my phone buzzed with a text message alert, there was no way to continue ignoring the person at the door.

  Carissa, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m worried about you. Plz let me in. Eric texted.

  With red, puffy eyes and disheveled hair, I opened the door to find him leaning up against the wall across the hall, his jaw tense, hair rumpled, and dark circles under his eyes.

  “You were asleep?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  He nodded toward my room. “May I?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah I guess. How long have you been out here?”

  “I don't know.” He looked at his watch as he stepped through the door. “Not too long. I needed to see you, had to know that you were okay. Damn it, the way you ran out of the diner scared the shit out of me. You can’t do that again.” He yanked me forward; his fingers dug into my waist, emphasizing his words.

  What little control I maintained slipped out of my reach. I began weeping into Eric's chest. God, I was so tired of crying already.

  It became hard to breathe between sobs, and Eric picked me up to carry me to the couch. He sat down first then pulled me into his lap, rubbing my back with one hand, the other around my waist. “Where's Annabelle?”

  “Turns out she had plans after all. She’s staying with some other chick.” I gazed at him between swollen eyes.

  “Carissa, we need to talk. Not tomorrow, not next week. Now.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it's late, and I'm afraid if I talk right now, all I'm going to do is cry some more. You must think I'm an emotional wreck, the way I keep going back and forth. Bet you’re not a fan of dating a basket case like me.” I held my head in my hands.

  “Carissa, I don't think you are crazy. I'm concerned. I wish you would talk to me, but I don't think you're crazy.” He lifted my chin to meet his eyes. “Please. I'm begging you. I don't understand why you keep running. I brought up your parents, and you bolted. We agreed to meet, and not only do you bolt, but you leave crying. You have to tell me what's going on.”

  I stood. “I can't.”

  Eric was in front of me staring me down before I had a chance to react. “No, you're going to talk. I'm not leaving until you do.”

  “And you’re going to back off. Don’t push me, Eric.” I hated the way my pulse kicked up when he blocked me. His stance reminded me too much of New York.

  We had a window in the kitchen that overlooked the quad. I loved watching the trees sprout new buds and leaves drop off as they died. It was a sign of renewal, a chance to start over. I moved toward it, even though it was dark outside, I knew they were there and that comforted me.

  As I stood by the window and stared into the void of night, I thought about what to say. Eric wanted me to tell him something I'd never told anyone, not even Alec. He wanted to know why the mention of my parents drew such an intense reaction. That was my deepest, darkest secret. The only people I'd ever told didn't believe me—my parents.

  “You wanna know why I ran?”

  “Yes. Most people don't run the minute you say 'parents'. You do, and I want to know why. Sometimes I feel like I don't know anything about you. Then there are days that I feel like I know exactly who you are and that we were meant to be together. I want more of those days. I want to know more about you.”

  The fact that Eric, an intimidating tough guy, was sitting in my living room begging me to spill my secrets so he could know me, because he felt like we were meant to be together, scared the hell out of me. More than that, I wanted him to know.

  “Eric, I want to tell you why. But there’s something you have to know first, otherwise you won't understand.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. I swore I heard him say something like, “Oh, I'm sure I will,” but it was so quiet I couldn't be positive.

  “My parents kept a bodyguard—well they called them personal assistants—on me from the time I was five. They did it because I decided, like most kids, that I wanted to run away. When they couldn't find me for more than six hours, my mother vowed to never leave me alone again. She and Dad held true to that promise. It made my life a living hell. But that's not the reason I ran from you.”

  “I'm listening.”

  It was all he said. The silence hung in the air while I tried to determine what to tell him.

  Before I knew it, I'd closed my eyes and replayed the story in my head as I told him what he wanted to know.

  “The last day I was in New York, I was shopping with my man-in-tow. This one was Igor. Stan was his real name, but that's what I called him. Anyway, he and I didn't get along very well. He was always looking at girls and making comments about how hot they were or how he wished their skirts were a little shorter. I usually ignored him, but occasionally it was too much, and I'd spout off something about him being a pedophile and threaten to turn him into the cops.”

  My hands shook at my sides. Images from that day flooded my thoughts, the normal relaxation from looking out the window not calming me like I’d hoped. Somewhere I found the resolve to keep going. “So, that day I was in an exceptional mood for some reason, I don't remember what the reason was, but I was happy nonetheless. Igor was the same as always, checking out the girls as we went through store after store, making snide comments. I decided that rather than try and piss him off, I'd take a different direction. One of the girls he stared at was wearing a yellow tank top and denim skirt that was frayed at the edges. I remember him saying she looked like one of the Strawberry Shortcake dolls with her little yellow top. So I played it up. I asked him what he'd think if I wore that outfit. At first it was all in jest. We went back and forth for a little while; I'd ask him about this or that, and he'd respond.”

  Eric came and stood next to me. Hesitantly, he rested his hands on my shoulders. I felt his lip
s on the back of my neck. “You don't have to finish this, princess.”

  “I do. It will help you understand.” I turned to look at him. “Right now, you think I'm crazy. When I finish you will know exactly why I loathe them.” There was no way I could finish the story if I found pity in Eric's eyes as I continued, so I looked out the window again. “Anyway, our jokes kept going. Before long, Igor was leading the conversation down a path that made me really uncomfortable. We weren't talking about clothes anymore; he'd moved onto lingerie. He wanted to know what color bra and panties I was wearing. I laughed it off and ignored the question. Knowing I'd made a bad decision, I put some distance between us as we walked down the strip where we were shopping.

  “It was the start of swim season, so I was looking for a new swim suit. The last store of the day had a couple that caught my attention, so I tried them on. While I was sliding out of one and into another, the door behind me creaked open. I turned to stop the person coming in, just to find out it was Igor. With one hand holding up my top, I tried to push him out. I yelled for one of the attendants, but no one answered. Igor chuckled and reached for my arm, the one I was using to keep my top on. I hunkered down in a corner and told him to stop. When he didn't stop, I stood up. There was no way I was going to let him touch me without fighting back. In a knee jerk reaction, I balled up my fist and lunged toward him, no longer caring about the damn suit. I wanted him to hurt. To leave me alone.

  “Unfortunately, I suck as a boxer, so all I did was graze his cheek. He tossed his head back and laughed. His attention shifted from my face down my body, lingering at times. When he made his way back up after getting his fill of everything else, I kicked straight up and nailed him in the crotch. Igor fell like a rock, grunting and calling me a bitch. Quickly, I grabbed my clothes and ran out the dressing room door. Of course, that's when the attendant finally came to see what was going on. Ignoring her, I fumbled to dress and hurried to the entrance. I hailed a cab and went home by myself.

  “On the way home, feeling a little safer, I called Dad to tell him what had happened. He didn't believe me and told me that Igor would never do anything like that. They'd done background checks on all the assistants, and none of them had a record.