Bear Faced Liar

by Alice Coldbreath

  “You texted that man of yours and told him we’re going for drinks after work yet?” Lois asked. “We’re buying, so he’ll need to come pick you up after.”

  “We are?”

  “Carole-Ann said she’d meet us at Elmer’s at six.”

  “Do they do Cosmo’s at Elmer’s bar?” asked Pris.

  “They sure do. That your favorite?” asked Bettina.

  “I believe it is,” said Pris musingly. “I’ll text Jared in my next break.”

  “Text him now,” said Bettina. “Don’t want to give that boy any excuses to throw a spoke in our wheel.”

  Pris couldn’t imagine that he would object, but she went to the back room and texted him anyway. He sent back an emoji of a bunch of grapes which she guessed he had hit by mistake, and waited patiently for an amended message. Sure enough, she got an ‘Ok’, come through. Followed by a ‘You can text me when you want picking up. I’ll be there.’ Then, as she was tucking her phone back in her purse, she got ‘xxx’. Three kisses, thought Pris. He was learning. She emerged from the back room still with a smile on her face.

  “Wrapped around her little finger,” said Mrs Peterson sotto-voiced.

  “He’s good to me,” Pris said softly and returned to her client who was taking pictures of herself with the full face of cream contour. “Ready to wipe it off and start again with the powder palette?” she asked.

  “Sure am!” said Janey, bouncing in her seat. “I love my cheekbones with this stuff though. I look sculpted.”

  “You do,” agreed Pris. “But we can build the same look with the powder contour too. It’s just personal preference on which you choose to go with. How it feels on your skin, if it feels breathable. That sort of thing.”

  After Janey, Pris had one more client which turned out to be a new friend of Lois’ called Maureen who needed a confidence booster after a recent divorce. “She needs friends,” Lois confided as they watched Maureen cross the street toward them. “Her ex was a real piece of work! Left her with nothing!” The door jangled. “Maureen,” Lois greeted her loudly. “I was just telling the girls how you’ve moved into my apartment block, and we’re becoming thick as thieves! In fact,” she said looking around the parlor. “We’re starting up a book club, if you any of you ladies would be interested in joining. Margaritas and chick lit, every first Wednesday of the month. How does that sound?”

  Maureen turned bright red and seemed flustered. “Well I – it was just an idea, Lois. I don’t know if anyone would actually want to-“

  “Sounds great,” said Pris, removing Maureen’s glasses and settling her into her seat. “What pretty hazel eyes! You really ought to be drawing attention to them every chance you get.”

  “I wouldn’t know how,” confessed Maureen, who was a rather dowdy looking woman of about forty and dressed like an old-fashioned librarian.

  “Let me show you,” said Pris with a wink. Discreetly, she started writing a list of cheaper drug-store products to give to Maureen at the end of the session, guessing she probably didn’t have much ready cash to spend on luxuries right now. The cake was eaten. Stories were swapped. Maureen was astonished by her transformation. Photos were posted onto the Facebook page. Pris slipped Maureen the list of budget-buy alternatives. “Welcome to Cranston Falls,” she murmured.

  Maureen’s pretty eyes filled with tears, but luckily the Matinee mascara was waterproof. “You’re so nice,” she stammered. “Lois said a visit to see you was just what I needed.”

  “And here’s my number, for the book club,” said Pris, adding it to the bottom of the list.

  “Give her mine too,” said Bettina, clearing her throat. “And, er, did you tell her about the promotion we’re running? Free Matinee eye compact for customers new to the area.”

  Maureen gasped. “I’m just overwhelmed!”

  They all cleared away the salon and locked up together at six o’clock, though they left the balloons and banners up.

  “I’m just gonna go grab my jacket out the back of my car,” said Pris, stepping off the sidewalk. She’d parked around the corner that morning as there were more parking spaces. “I’ll meet you over there.”

  “Okay, hon,” yelled Lois, who was fixing her lipstick. “I’ll wait outside with Carole-Ann.”

  “We’ll see you there in five,” said Bettina, who was off to the ATM with Billie.

  Pris hurried toward her car, reaching into her purse for her keys. As she was rummaging around the contents, she felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, and glanced up. Strange. Why did she have the sensation of being watched? She let the keys slip from her fingers back into her purse and stared.

  Three women of varying age stood directly across the road staring back at her. A thin looking guy in a shabby suit was pointing his finger right at her.

  With shock, she realized she knew them. When she stepped off the curb toward them she was Pris Hunt - beautician, ex-stripper, fiancée and proud citizen of Cranston Falls.

  By the time she had crossed the road and walked straight into Vanya Peterson's open arms she was Christina Lascombe, sole heiress to the Lascombe-Holmes fortune and step-daughter to the three women stood now looking a mixture of concern and relief at her reappearance.

  Christina Lascombe whose head was filled with inappropriate memories of a life she should never had ever experienced. A life, it lacerated her heart to think, was a total fabrication. A life crammed into a week, that seemed somehow more vivid, more lived than her previous twenty-seven years in total.

  Vanya, her second and favorite stepmother enfolded her into a heavily scented embrace, her wispy scarves fluttering in the breeze. “Darling!” she said, stroking her head. “What on earth has been happening with you? We've been worried out of our minds!”

  “What in god's name are you wearing?” bleated Jenna, her least favorite and third stepmother. Jenna was wearing a designer coral pink dress with over-sized sunglasses and fake tan.

  “Shall we get off the side of the road first?” suggested Rosemary, her first stepmother briskly. “There was a diner a few yards back that looked like it wouldn't breach every health code in the state.” Her nose wrinkled. “Only half of them.”

  “I'm not going into Misty's with you guys,” replied Christine automatically. “We'll have to drive out of town to the strip mall. There's a McDonald's there,” she said.

  “McDonald's?” repeated Rosemary with a shudder, clutching at her pearls. You'd never believe that she used to be Daddy's secretary, thought Christine, before she became his second wife.

  “I'll meet you guys there.”

  “Oh no, we're not letting you out of our sight, young lady,” said Jenna grabbing exaggeratedly at her upper arm.

  Pris looked down at the matching coral nails. “Take your damn hand off me Jenna,” she said with an edge.

  Jenna's mouth fell open as her hand fell away.

  “I said I will meet you there,” she repeated coolly. “Vanya you can ride with me, if you want.” She turned on her heel, not waiting for a response. She could see the big black shiny SUV they must have hired for their little trip out here. She marched to her own little rust bucket and got in the driver seat. Vanya had followed her, her slanted eyes wide-open, her wide-legged black trousers fluttering in the breeze. “Darling, is this your car?” she asked in astonishment as she struggled to open the door.

  “Temporarily,” answered Pris, firing up the engine. “Why the hell did you bring Jenna with you?” she asked.

  “I was so worried Chris. I called her - I know how close you used to be, and I thought...”

  Pris gave a dry laugh. “Not for a long time, Vanya. You should know that.”

  “I thought you might have had some sort of breakdown! And I couldn't get Stuart to talk any sense - I was desperate!”

  “I never thought I'd see you and Rosemary on the same page,” Pris admitted as she pulled out of her parking spot. With a muffled exclamation, she saw her friends were all stood on the side-walk
waiting for her outside Elmer's. Damn it! Billie waved, frantically and Christine flicked her a small apologetic wave. The four of them were staring as the black SUV pulled out behind her car, following them out of town. She wondered if they had witnessed the whole reunion. Probably, she thought biting the side of her mouth. Glancing in the mirror, she could see Carole-Ann turn to the others with a WTF expression on her face.

  “I called Rosemary too,” admitted Vanya. “But she was also concerned. She said you always rang her on the first Monday of the month without fail, and when she’d tried to call your cell phone went straight to voicemail. She’d spoken to Stuart on the landline and said he was evasive. It was awkward, I won't deny it, but our worry for you helped us rise above the old animosity."

  “Touching,” said Pris. And it was actually. Okay, Rosemary wasn't the warm and fuzzy type and Vanya was kind of flighty, but at least her disappearance had registered with them.

  “Who was that guy?” she asked slowly, realizing she recognized him from the previous week at the bar. “I think I've seen him around town.”

  “A private investigator we hired to find you, darling. Without him, we would never have tracked you down to this awful place.”

  Pris gritted her teeth. She was very fond of Vanya, but right now her voice and her accent sounded like nails on a chalk-board. Her brain was racing. She could remember everything about being Christina Lascombe, but was having trouble slotting her time as Pris Hunt into the timeline. Where the hell did Jared fit in to... Oh! The car swerved as she remembered.

  Vanya shrieked. “Darling!”

  He was the builder. The builder she hated. The builder she was pretty sure hated her. The bile rose in her throat as she gasped and leant further forward in her seat. Oh my god, the pain!

  “What is it?” squeaked Vanya clutching at the dashboard.

  “Nothing,” she managed to gasp out. “Stomach cramp.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yep,” she murmured blinking rapidly as she pulled off the highway and into retail park. Some instinct of preservation made her park her car around the back of one of the larger buildings, and suddenly she just wanted to get out into the fresh air. Vanya's perfume was heavy and cloying for all it was expensive. Suddenly she realized she was going to vomit. Oh my god. Flinging open the door she crouched down on the concrete and threw up the lunch Bettina had treated her to.

  Vanya rounded the car and murmured with concern, drawing her hair back over her shoulders as Pris dry-heaved, then spat the taste out of her mouth. With brutal clarity she realized the only person she wanted to comfort her right now was Jared. Jared the liar. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him? How could he have done such a thing? She wanted to howl and bawl and curl herself up into a ball and cry her heart out. She wanted to kick and punch the car. Him. She wanted to yell and scream at him until her voice broke and then slap his lying, handsome face so hard her palm stung. That lying bastard. He had tricked her. Lied to her. Made her think that he... that she... Made her believe that they... And it was all a massive lie. She was shaking as she unfolded herself and straightened up before her frightened looking stepmother.

  “Is it drugs, Chrissy?” Vanya asked shakily. “Is that the hold this Jared Hunt has on you?”

  “What?” She could hear how dull her own voice was. “No. Not drugs.” A hysterical laugh rose up inside her at the idea that Vanya could think Jared was her drug dealer! “Is that what Stuart told you? Fucking unbelievable.” She wasn't really clear on Stuart's role in this whole fiasco, but something about the memory of his weak-chinned face was making her want to claw his eyes out.

  Vanya's eyes had widened at the curse-word. Christina Lascombe had been raised to be a lady. Too bad. Pris Hunt didn't think the fact she had a vagina should limit her vocabulary.

  “I'm gonna swing by the Super Save and grab a toothbrush,” she said rubbing her bare arms.

  “Okay darling, I'll come with you,” agreed Vanya hurriedly. The alarm was positively rolling off her.

  “I'm not going to give you the slip,” sniffed Pris, wiping her eyes. The gesture only made her step-mother's eyes widen even further.

  “What has he done to you, dearest girl?” she breathed.

  Stop it!” said Pris sharply and wheeled around to confront her. Just don't-!” She bit off her words, not wanting to take her anger out on the wrong person. She scrubbed at her eyes. “Look Vanya, I know I'm not being fair...”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do!” demanded her step-mother tightly. “Whatever it is, I'll do it, darling. You know that!”

  She swallowed. “Just don't say anything about...him, okay.” she took a shaky breath. “I'm not ready to hear it.”

  “Please just tell me it's not a cult,” said Vanya, looking so terrified that Pris gave short laugh.

  “It's not a cult,” she said. “I promise. Look, you're the one I'm closest to Vanya and I'm going to need your support in there,” she nodded at the fast food joint. “Whatever I say, can you...can you please just back me up?” She shot a look of appeal at her stepmother. “I swear I'll explain the whole thing to you. Just not now.” She swallowed. “It's too raw.” Two tears spilt over running down her cheeks. They had reached her jaw before she managed to swipe them away.

  Vanya's lips pursed. “Very well, this I will do,” she said. “If it is what you truly wish.”

  “Thank you,” said Pris.

  She bought a toothbrush and a travel-sized tube of toothpaste from the Super Save and then headed straight to the bathroom once they reached the restaurant. This meant walking straight past the table where Rosemary, the P.I. and Jenna were sat. Vanya joined them, speaking in a calm and soothing voice, so Pris left her to smooth the way.

  In the bathroom she stared at her face in the mirror and was astonished by how fresh-faced and calm she looked. Her long honey blonde hair was caught up in a simple pony-tail that made her look much younger than her twenty-seven years. She was wearing her cute little work ensemble with her gold belt and tasseled boots. As she brushed her teeth she realized that the old Christina wouldn't have dreamt of wearing such an ensemble. Yet it suited her. She spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth. Grabbing her black imitation leather purse, she checked her cell and found three missed calls from Carole-Ann and a whole bunch of texts from Billie. She returned it to her purse without checking them. She had to get through this ordeal first. Then she squared her shoulders, slung her purse over her shoulder and went to face the music.

  When she joined them at the table she found that someone had ordered in a round of coffees. Rosemary pushed one was pushed her way.

  “Thanks,” she said automatically. “Sugar?”

  Vanya passed her two small packets. Ripping open the sachets she fixed her hot drink how she liked it and leant back in her seat. She levelled a look at the guy she now knew was a P.I.

  “Didn’t you come into Bettina’s yesterday and ask about the gift voucher package for your wife?” she asked him pointedly.

  He gave a slight smile. “A small subterfuge,” he murmured. He placed a manila envelope on the table before him and then slid it over to her with one finger.

  She took it with raised eyebrows and then opened it. A sheaf of photos confronted her. Her walking along the main street, hand-in-hand with Jared, wearing shorts and flip-flops, her long tanned legs bare. She looked so relaxed she could almost have been on vacation, thought Pris with astonishment. The only time Christine Lascombe ever looked that carefree was after a month in a spa hotel. She looked at the next photo, her in the passenger seat of Jared’s truck, leaning toward him, head angled for a kiss. She quickly flipped to the next photo. It was of her hanging washing on the line outside the trailer dressed in the ‘Juicy’ hot-pants. “What is this?” she asked slowly. The sight of those unguarded moments tugged her heart so hard it hurt. God, what was she going to do about Jared? She threw the photos down on the table, face up. None of her step-mothers reached for them. They
had clearly already seen them. “I’m not married to Stuart Harber,” she said coolly. “So he can’t sue me for alimony.”

  Rosemary and Jenna both gasped. Vanya was clutching her scarf and looking pained.

  “Are you actually saying you’re with this…this man of your own free will?” demanded Rosemary.

  “I don’t believe it for a minute,” scoffed Jenna. “Living in a trailer? By choice?”

  “I wouldn't bother trying, Jenna,” she answered dryly. “It would be completely beyond you to fathom.”

  “What about Stuart?” asked Vanya blankly.

  “What about him?” Christina asked. “Incidentally, what exactly did he tell you about my disappearing act?”

  Vanya frowned. “He told all of us different things, darling,” she said with an expressive shrug. “That was one of the things that got us so worried. He told me you were exhausted and had gone off for some kind of cure at a retreat.”

  “He told me you had gone to stay with a friend he couldn’t name or remember where they lived,” said Rosemary.

  Jenna pursed her coral pink lips prettily. “I rang him after Vanya called me. And Stuart told me you had run off and left him for another man.”

  “Which was preposterous as it was your house,” pointed out Rosemary.

  “Except it was the truth,” said Pris lightly, and took a sip of coffee.

  The others had all turned stony silent.

  “So, you’ve been slumming it? Is that what you’re telling us?” drawled Jenna. She reached idly toward picture of Jared, “Well I suppose he is rather – Ow!” she snatched her hand back with an expression of utter astonishment.

  Pris, having dealt the back of Jenna’s hand a hearty slap, now gathered up the photos and slid them back in the envelope. “Don’t touch what isn’t yours,” she said, narrowing her gaze.

  Jenna’s jaw dropped. “You did not just do that.”

  “Oh yes, I did. You want to make something of it Jenna? I really wouldn’t advise it,” she added softly.

  Jenna gazed helplessly at the other three but clearly didn’t get the support she was hoping for.