Epic Lies (Epic Fail Book 2)

by Trudy Stiles

  “We have some damage control to do,” she says to me, and Garrett chuckles as if to say ‘Better you than me.’

  “What?” I ask, exhaling.

  “Well, first there’s this.” There’s more than one? She pushes a tabloid paper across the table and points to a bare ass on the cover. My bare ass.

  “What the fuck is this?” I ask, looking closer.

  “It’s you. Naked on top some girl,” she says, followed by her standard eye-roll. It’s a picture of me, making love to Giselle on my private patio in Mexico.

  Sonofabitch.

  “It isn’t just some girl. And you know it.” Giselle is so much more. “You need to take care of this. Make it disappear,” I demand, and Sonya nods her head.

  “I’m serious, Sonya. I don’t want Giselle’s name dragged through the media. She needs to be protected. Promise me you’re doing everything in your power to make this go away.”

  “The tabloids think she’s an anonymous hook-up. I think she’s going to remain anonymous. But, I promise you that I’ll make sure that happens.”

  Sonya and Giselle hit it off the second they met each other, and I know Sonya is sincere.

  “Don’t worry, I’m on it,” she attempts to reassure me.

  “Good,” I say. She still looks serious, and I shrug my shoulders.

  “Next, we need to figure out what to do about this.” She opens the same magazine to the second page.

  What I see causes bile to rise in my throat.

  Motherfucker.

  Giselle

  Present

  I BARELY MAKE IT to my front door, backpack slung over one shoulder, folders in my hand, mail tucked under my arm. My knee is swollen from tweaking it at the office today as I was rushing in late to my presentation. I’m a hot mess, and all I want to do is open some wine and drink it straight out of the bottle. I drop my cell phone on the counter and plug it in. It died on the way home when I couldn’t find the car charger.

  I’ve already kicked off my heels in the foyer, and I limp toward the couch with my mail still tucked under my arm. It’s a massive pile of mail today; I can’t remember the last time I cleaned out my mailbox. Maybe last week sometime?

  It drives Mia crazy that I do this. She’s completely nuts about taking her mail in every single day. I’ll go to the mailbox and just remove one or two things, leaving the rest in there. If I don’t pull it out, it means I don’t have to react to it. My phone bill can wait an extra few days to get paid.

  Today, while I rest my swollen knee and sip a glass of wine, I finally go through the huge pile. Twenty minutes later, there’s a mess of torn envelopes and shredded solicitations from various credit card companies. I’ve weeded out only two or three official pieces of mail that I need to actually do something with. I’m about to scoop up the mess when I see a large manila envelope that I must have missed. I tear it open and pull out a statement from my car financing company. I scan the statement, wondering why it was delivered to me in such a formal looking envelope. I usually receive my statements electronically–another reason why I rarely check my mailbox. I’m surprised when I see that my loan was paid off almost two months ago, and the title is enclosed. Paid off? There’s definitely been a mistake.

  I pull the title out of the envelope and scan it–it’s totally legit. I hobble over to the kitchen where my cell phone is charging and pick it up, dialing the financing company. After pushing multiple buttons, a live person is on the end of the line.

  “Hi, I think there’s a mistake on my statement. It shows that my loan is paid off, and I’m holding the actual title to my car. I still have two years left,” I say, rambling to the person who greeted me.

  “Can you verify your name, address, and the last four digits of your social security number?” he asks. Didn’t I just punch all of that into the phone?

  I huff and give him what he needs in order to verify I am who I say I am.

  “Thank you,” he says. “Please hold while I check your account.”

  I’m expecting him to come back on the line to confirm that they did, indeed, make a mistake when he says, “Our records indicate that your loan was paid in full on June 20th. As you may know, it does take us some time to process the final payoff and to close out the loan. It usually takes us about six to eight weeks to send the title out, and we apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I didn’t pay off my loan.” He doesn’t get it. I shouldn’t be holding this title in my hands right now.

  “Your loan was paid in full, ma’am.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I say.

  He takes a deep breath and says, “Please hold while I get my supervisor.”

  Hold music plays as I pace back and forth across my kitchen floor.

  “Ms. Andrews?” A new voice is on the line.

  “Yes?”

  “I see there may be some confusion over your car loan. I’d like to help clear that up, if I can.” The supervisor repeats exactly what the other phone representative went through with me before. He confirms that my car loan has indeed been paid off.

  “I don’t understand. How can this be if I didn’t pay it?” I ask.

  “Let me check the transaction,” he says, and I hear lots of keys clicking on his keyboard.

  “Okay, the payment came in from Epic Enterprises. Does that name ring a bell?” he asks, and I almost drop the phone. There’s only one person who could have done this.

  “That clears it up,” I say and hang up.

  Why would he do this?

  Anger bubbles in my chest, and I resist the urge to call him and give him a piece of my mind. Who does he think he is? Paying for my car? What’s next?

  Mia walks through the sliding back door and sees me in the disheveled state I’m in. “Someone’s a hot mess today,” she says, eyeing the pile of torn paper and envelopes on the floor. “What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m just–I’m so mad right now. Look at this!” I shove the title to my car in her face.

  She smiles. “Congrats, babe. You own your car. Why would you be angry about this?” She smirks as she shoves something behind her back.

  “Dax did this. He paid off my car,” I say, throwing myself onto the couch.

  “And?”

  “And? I’m humiliated. Seriously, why would he do this? Does he think I’m destitute? In need of a handout?”

  “Good lord, shut up,” she says. “He probably did it to be nice. To surprise you. You did save his life, after all.”

  Oh. I didn’t even think about that. “But still, it’s weird. I’m uncomfortable.”

  She shrugs. “There’s worse you could be uncomfortable about.” She pulls a magazine out from behind her back and places it on my lap. My stomach churns, and I almost scream.

  “He’s got a great ass,” she says and laughs.

  Dax’s naked body is on the page in front of me, and I quickly scan the photo. I see all of him. His ass in plain view for the entire world to see. And he’s on top of me.

  “Holy shit, this is from Mexico.” I cover my mouth as I fight the projectile vomit that’s about to erupt.

  “Your face, and everything else, is pretty blurry. The story speculates, but they have no idea who you are, so that’s good.”

  “This is not good. Someone seriously invaded his–our privacy. What the fuck?” I yell, and she flinches.

  “At least they don’t know who you are, right? And I’m sure he’s totally used to this kind of thing.” She’s not making me feel any better.

  “There’s one more thing…” she says as the doorbell rings.

  I walk toward the door, knowing Dax is on the other end. And I’m sure by now, he’s seen the same picture I just saw. Strangely, I think I’m more upset about him paying off my car than a picture of us having sex in Mexico. But, what if my parents see it? Oh my God. My stomach churns as I pull open the door.

  “We need to–”

  Not Dax.


  “Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I say to the woman and child standing in my doorway. She’s stunning and nearly six feet tall. A young boy, no more than three is standing next to her, smiling. He looks exactly like her, so I presume it’s her child.

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  “I’m hoping you can. I’m looking for Dax Anderson, and I was told I may find him here.” She peeks around me into my home, and I close the door a little. Who the hell is this woman?

  My nerves grab hold, and my hand is shaking on the doorknob. My gut tells me to slam the door in her face. I don’t think I can take any more surprises today. “I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask, voice shaking.

  “Who I am really shouldn’t matter to you. Please ask Dax to come to the door.”

  Mia suddenly steps in front of me, pushing me to the side. “I’m sorry, but you must have received some bad information because there’s nobody here by that name,” she says and closes the door in her face.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I say, trying to catch my breath. Mia ushers me over to the couch, and we sit down.

  “Can you get Dax on the phone?” she asks, her own voice shaky.

  “Yes–I’m sure I can, but–”

  She turns the page in the magazine, and the face of the woman who was at my door is plastered just below a headline that reads: Dax Anderson Love Child Hidden? Natalia LeFuer Tells All.

  “What the fuck?” I yell. My vision blurs, and my hands are still shaking. Why is this happening?

  Mia starts reading excerpts from the story. “Was Natalia Dax’s hidden secret? What does his son think about his rock-star father?”

  “Stop it. Stop reading that shit right now, I can’t take it,” I say, and the tears begin to flow. Sobs shaking my shoulders and take control of my body. “I’m such an idiot,” I cry into my hands, and Mia rubs my back.

  “Shhh,” she says softly.

  “I’m an idiot. I should have known not to get involved with him. He warned me in Mexico. He told me he was trouble. And now this.” I slam my finger onto the face of the gorgeous woman, who could still be standing on my front porch for all I know. “And this!” I say, flipping to the first page where we’re entangled together, making love. “What’s wrong with me, Mia? Why did I get involved with him?” I cry. “Why did I trust him?”

  Why did I fall in love with him?

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this,” she says confidently.

  I huff. “An explanation, yes, I believe there is. Reasonable? I highly doubt that, Mia.” She hands me a tissue, and I wipe the tears from my eyes and blow my nose.

  “Can I have another one?” I ask.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What do you think?” My chest tightens.

  “I don’t like seeing you like this. I’m so sorry,” she says, pulling me into an embrace. “You deserve so much better. You deserve to be happy.”

  Deserve?

  “Mia, I earned my right to be happy, don’t you think? So many fucked up things have happened in almost every single relationship I’ve ever been in. Troy. Derek. And let’s not forget Dale.”

  “Dale was gay,” Mia says.

  “Yeah. It would have been nice to know that!” I shout, and she starts laughing.

  “What are you laughing at?” I ask her as she cackles even louder.

  “What about Jared?” She laugh-snorts.

  “He liked his collections more than he liked me. Okay, I think we’ve hashed out enough of my failed relationships.” Jared was really into Star Wars. In fact, he’s the one who got me into it. However, he was way into it–more than I could ever have imagined.

  “Who buys three of everything? Who does that?” I yell, and she starts laughing again. “Like I said, he was a collector.” Embarrassment replaces the anger, and I slap her leg.

  “This trip down memory lane is over. I can’t do this anymore, as fun as it is for you,” I say. “I’m warning you, or I’ll start pulling skeletons out of your closet. We could be here all night for that,” I quip, and she grabs my hand.

  “Listen, the point is, no matter who you’ve been with since Troy, I haven’t ever seen you this happy. There’s been something that I completely love about you since you came home from Mexico. Your strength. Your confidence. Your beauty.”

  I blush. “What are you talking about?” My heart is breaking as she describes what I have–had with Dax.

  “You’ve always been the stronger one out of us, Giselle. You always say it like it is–and mean it. Despite the shit that’s happened to you, you’ve never let it bring you down. Yeah, you’ve dated a lot of assholes and some real losers, but you always find the one redeeming thing in those people and build on it. Even if one of them collected Star Wars figurines well into his twenties.”

  “Okay, enough.” I say.

  “Listen to me. Trust what I’m going to say to you. No matter what is going on, find that one thing in Dax to hold on to. Well, make it two. One would be his ass. The other would be something else.” She laughs. “I have a feeling he’s worth it, and when all of this gets sorted out, you’ll see what I mean.”

  “Mia. I love you, you know that. But, I don’t know if I have it in me right now. I’m serious. My head is killing me. My heart is in the process of breaking. Let me deal with this in my own way,” I say, and she nods her head.

  She squeezes me tight and kisses me on my cheek. “I’ll be back in an hour with a couple bottles of pinot and She’s All That.” She slides out my back door, and I stare at the tabloid. Can a Freddie Prinze, Jr. movie make this all go away?

  Seeing Natalia standing on my front porch, with Dax’s child keeps replaying in my head. They’re his family and soon I’ll be a memory. My heart hurts as I realize a part of my future is suddenly out of reach. I’ve always dreamed of settling down and having a baby–a family–with the man that I love. Even though Dax and I have been together for only a short time, that reality seemed more real to me than ever. Until now.

  Mia’s words ring in my head, and I realize she’s right. I am strong, and I certainly don’t need to sit here and wallow in self-pity and misery. I want answers, and I’m going to get them.

  I pick up my phone and call Dax.

  He answers on the first ring.

  “Giselle! God, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” he says.

  “I’m sure you were.” I crumple the magazine in my free hand and toss it across the room.

  “We need to talk,” he says. He’s right, but I’m going to do the talking. I’m going to ask the questions.

  “Two truths and a lie.” My voice is shaking, but stern.

  “What?”

  “Two truths and a fucking lie,” I repeat, determined for answers.

  “Okay,” he says, concern in his voice.

  “You paid off my car loan. Your ass is on the cover of a tabloid. You have a child with a gorgeous, seven-foot tall model.” I hold my breath, fighting tears. I really don’t want to know the answer to the last one. I’m praying it’s the lie.

  He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t how you play the game.”

  Fuck. Are they all true?

  “My game. My rules.”

  “Yes–the first is true.”

  “Why did you pay off my car? Did you think I needed money? A handout? Did you feel sorry for me?” I’m ashamed and embarrassed that he would feel the need to take care of me like that.

  “No–it’s not like that,” he says.

  I don’t want to hear his explanation because it’s only delaying the inevitable, when he gets to the question about Natalia.

  “Tabloid?” I say, skipping to the next truth.

  “Yes. And if you saw the picture, you know exactly where it is and who I was with,” he says. “And I have absolutely no idea how that picture got leaked or how it was even taken.”

  “I believe you,” I say. “The picture could have been worse.” I tense up, and realize again tha
t when this begins to spread, these people will know who I am, and my parents are going to be mortified. “I have some damage control to do with my family,” I say.

  “I’m sorry about that. I really am. I should have been more careful, more private with you,” he says.

  Is that regret in his voice?

  “Natalia?” I ask and hold my breath. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know if the kid is mine.”

  I choke on a sob and say, “Well, she was here about fifteen minutes ago. When she finds you, you should ask her, don’t you think?” Tears roll down my cheeks, and my hands shake.

  “What? She was there?” he yells, anger bubbling through the phone. “What did she say?”

  “Nothing, Dax. She said nothing because I didn’t give her the chance.”

  Well, Mia didn’t give her the chance, and she slammed the door in her face. But, he doesn’t need to know that.

  “I have to go,” I say, trying to hide the fact that I’m crying.

  “Wait. We need to talk,” he says again, and I shake my head. I feel like this phrase pops up too frequently in our relationship. There’s always something we need to sort out, something to talk about. It’s not supposed to be this difficult.

  “We just did. I have all the answers I need,” I respond. “I’ll send you the money for my car as soon as I can.” I just need to figure out where I’m going to get twelve thousand dollars.

  I hang up and kick the side of my couch.

  Why can’t I have a completely uncomplicated relationship with a man?

  And why do I trust people so damn much?

  I need to get out of here. My mind runs through my parents’ calendar as I plan my escape.

  I text my mother.

  Me: Hey, Mom. Are you and Dad at the shore house this weekend?

  Mom: No, we’re in Hatteras with Bill and Anne.

  Me: Okay, have fun!

  Mom: Everything okay?

  Me: Totally - bye!

  Mom: Love you.

  Me: Love you, too.

  It’s hard lying to her, but I need to get away, without her questioning me.