Lost In Lies

by Xavier Neal

  “That’s a good look.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Nick laughs and looks around to find a napkin. Grabbing a pen from the countertop, he jots his number down while mumbling, “Please, don’t tell anyone I did this.”

  As my fingertips touch the napkin, a voice speaks up, “Do my eyes deceive me, or is that the Nick Mathews giving out his number to a girl on a napkin?”

  Nick hangs his head before the guy tosses his arm playfully around my new friend, who introduces us, “Peyton, meet my best friend, Dubs.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  I extend my hand for him to shake, when he raves, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Peyton. It is my honor, in fact. After all, I can say that not only have I never seen Nick give a girl his number but on a napkin, wow! You must be some girl.”

  “Thanks,” I fold the napkin in my hands. “I like to think so.”

  Dubs is about the same height as Nick, but his features are much lighter. His blonde hair is hidden behind a backward, white baseball cap, his overworked-looking muscles protrude out of a white tank top similar to Nick’s, though his has a small design logo on it, and his skin has a natural tan that doesn’t appear that he works too hard on. His head has more of an oval shape, his features more boyish and playful than his best friend’s, his smile full of perfectly straight and white teeth.

  “He’s the one from the stories I was telling you about. We’ve been friends since grade school,” Nick explains. He tosses a glance at Dubs, “Where did you come from anyway?”

  “I was upstairs in your room. Took a nap. Drank way too much, had a hookup—”

  “In my room?”

  “Guest room,” Dubs corrects him.

  “Who was it?”

  “Cheerleader from West Bridge,” he shrugs, “can’t quite remember her name.”

  “That’s classy,” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “That’s Dubs,” Nick shrugs.

  “Hey,” Dubs sticks up for himself, “when I get to drinking, it makes it hard to remember things.”

  “Peyton, are you coming—” Belle’s voice cuts short as she rounds the corner, seeing Dubs, which causes her jaw to drop.

  “Yeah I’ll ...” my sentence stops short as my attention oscillates between Dubs and Belle, who seemed to be starstruck by one another.

  “Who’s this?” Dub’s voice lowers as he pulls on his shorts and approaches Belle.

  “I’m Belle,” she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and leans against the wall innocently. I can understand her attraction since he does look like an upgraded version of Peter, a version I could probably more than tolerate. But, I’m surprised she’s acting so flirty knowing her actual boyfriend is outside waiting.

  “Now that’s a name I won’t forget,” the words roll off of his tongue as Nick shakes his head.

  “Belle brought Peyton to the party. I think it’s safe to say that Belle is Peyton’s best friend,” Nick explains and looks at me.

  “We grew up together,” I respond and shoot her a look to play along.

  Belle tries to catch her breath and manages to say, “We ... um ... need to get going.”

  Dubs plants both his hands on the wall, enclosing Belle in his arms, “Not without you taking my number first.”

  Nick leans over and whispers, “I think Dubs is in love.”

  “Maybe,” I mutter back.

  “I think he’s not the only one.”

  “Yeah, Belle looks a little sprung herself.”

  “I wasn’t talking about her.” I turn sharply to Nick. With a lick of his lips, he tips his head down to where the napkin is in my hands, “Use it.”

  I hum to myself, slide the number in my bikini top, and back away from him, maintaining eye contact, feeling conflicted. I know I shouldn’t use it, and that I probably won’t, but part of me really is dying to—just once before we leave this town. Yikes!

  “Let’s go, Belle,” I pull her arm, removing her from Dub’s trance as he winks at her.

  “Remember to call me,” Dubs shoots his finger at her.

  Pulling her out of the front door, she giggles and looks at me, “Did you see him? Y-U-M!”

  “Shh,” I giggle as she intertwines her arm with mine, snickering joyfully.

  We catch up with the guys, who aren’t waiting too far away from the mansion, and head the direction we came from. Belle lets Peter’s arm drape around her, letting, I assume, the thoughts of Dubs leave her mind. Aiden veers over to walk beside his brother, leaving me with Justin, who is heeling at my side with his hands in his pockets, like a hurt puppy.

  A safe distance away, Peter glances over his shoulder, trying to stifle his snicker, “Didn’t everyone just have a great time?”

  Knowing where Peter’s headed, I clear my throat, and Aiden answers for me instead, “Yeah. Met some really amazing girls.”

  “Did you hear that DJ?” Eiden inputs.

  “The food was delicious,” my opinion seems innocent.

  “Not the only thing you found delicious, was it?” Peter slyly says.

  “Peter,” Belle snaps.

  “What? I was just saying the twinkle in her eye wasn’t coming from that dessert she was licking off her fork. Speaking of, did you lick—”

  “Peter!” she yells again, this time louder.

  Justin puffs out his chest, “Look, she was only with him because it was his party. If Peyton would’ve blown off the host—”

  “For the record, I tried.”

  “And he wouldn’t take no for an answer? Remind you of anyone?” Peter winks as Justin continues.

  “It would’ve raised suspicions. He would’ve poked around and asked more questions, tried to figure out why she was at the party instead of letting us all eat and drink merrily.”

  Eiden mumbles, “Some of us more merrily than others.”

  “If Peyton would’ve done anything to draw attention to us like that, we would’ve spent the morning running,” Justin clarifies. “So, if anything, we should thank Peyton for her services and taking one for the team.”

  “She probably did take one for the team, and one for herself,” Peter snickers before turning to me. “Thanks, Peyton, for somehow managing to find the one person at the party who could potentially ruin the con we were running. Once again, you know just how to mess up the easy things.” Feeling my blood boil, I shut my eyes tightly, fighting the urge to snap, when I hear Peter ramble on, “Geez, you just can’t do anything right. I swear—”

  “Shut up!” My coolness is lost as I stop in the middle of the sand with a significant distance still to go to our bags.

  Everyone else stops dead in their tracks and turns, their jaws dropping at my response. Sadly, I think I am more surprised than any of them are because it is so unlike me to outrageously snap, but seriously, how much tearing down of your spirit can you take before you flat out explode?

  “Excuse me?” Peter removes his arm from Belle.

  “All you do is ride me about everything you think I do wrong!” I scream, approaching his face. “Newsflash, Peter, you’re not perfect! You’re the farthest thing in the group from it! And I understand you think you’re head honcho, and you just might be in this group, but that doesn’t give you the right to drag me through the mud over every ... single ... move ... I ... make.”

  Peter opens his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off immediately when I tackle him to the ground, allowing the arrow that was aimed for us to zoom past.

  “You can rag on me for this move later,” I scramble to get up as Justin tosses a dagger from his pocket through the heart of one of the Dark Watchers rushing toward us.

  My eyes assess the situation through the quickly dissipating smoke that was the first attacker, noticing two Dark Watchers further back shooting arrows, while four more are headed at us, daggers, swords, and knives drawn. To no surprise, they aim straight for us, while Justin makes his way toward the ones shooting arrows.

  The Dark Watcher who comes to
attack me is gripping a knife, something easier to handle as it only has one sharp edge to potentially kill me. He swings quickly, sharply, and jabs me right in the ribs with a closed fist. Staggering from the pain, I do my best to swing my leg around, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. Unfortunately for me, he retaliates by kicking me in my calf, knocking me down to the ground. The Dark Watcher rolls on top of me and begins struggling to slice my throat with the blade. I struggle to fight back, punching him in his side, wiggling my body away, moving my head side to side, and grabbing his arm to keep it away my from neck. Something that should be mentioned when fighting Dark Watchers is that they are unrealistically strong, especially with death on the line. When he notices that going for my neck isn’t working, he lowers the knife to my side, pulls back, and stabs the sharp point in my ribs. I cry out in pain as his body unexpectedly poofs into smoke.

  Growling in pain, I continue to cry out as I feel my own blood drip from my side onto my hand until it becomes too much to bare. My eyes shut—I hope not for good.

  A few deep breaths fill my lungs as a cool air touches my chin, indicating that I didn’t die and that I also wasn’t taken to the hospital to receive proper medical treatment, something I am beginning to imagine probably won’t ever happen again.

  I open my eyes to see Justin hovering over me, one hand stroking my hair, the other resting on my ribs where the knife sliced me. Relieved, he smiles tentatively, the light returning to his eyes as he whispers, “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  Within the first few blinks, Peter’s face appears over me. He smirks as well, “I’m going to need you to get injured less.”

  “I second that,” Justin sighs, using his hand to prop me up into a sitting position.

  Peter pats him casually on the back, “Told you not to worry too much.”

  “Yeah,” he nods in return. In a very genuine voice, he sighs, “Thanks, Peter.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Justin turns his attention back to me and asks, “You all right?”

  I take a long, deep breath. Feeling the side of my ribs, I nod slowly, realizing the powerful, illegal, alien drug must’ve come to the rescue once again. Thankful for it, I take another deep breath in, “Yeah, I think so. How did they find us?”

  “They always do,” Peter mumbles as Belle bounces over.

  “You’re awake!” she squeals, pleased. “You have to stop getting hurt!”

  Realizing what she means is meant to be sweet, I nod in return, “I’ll work on that.”

  “Now that Peyton’s up, let’s get focused on where we are staying tonight,” Justin helps me stand up, pulls my hand up to his lips, and presses softly, thankful I’m back in his arms.

  “Well, where’s the walking-around money to get us into a hotel?” Aiden points to Justin’s bulked pocket.

  With a proud smile, he shakes his head, “This is walking around money. We need a better plan for a hotel. Let’s hit downtown and see where we wanna stay.”

  “Wanna stay? Shouldn’t it be can stay?” My attempt at correction causes Belle to snub her nose.

  “Please! You saw the place we stayed in when we were ...” her voice trails off.

  “Conning you,” Peter slides his arm around her shoulder again with a devious smirk.

  She elbows him in the side before she continues, “During the whole painting incident. Wherever we stay isn’t just a place.” Belle corrects, “It has to become a home away from home.”

  “Even if it’s just for a night?” My eyebrows shoot up.

  “How do you know it’s just for one night?” Justin’s tongue slides across his lips like he knows something that I don’t.

  “Tally-ho,” Peter chuckles, holding his bag, while Belle carries hers.

  I allow Justin to carry my bags, still feeling a little light-headed from passing out earlier. We haul our luggage to a shuttle service, where we use Justin’s stolen walking-around money to drop us in the middle of downtown Landlin, a busy, most breathtaking sight.

  My eyes widen at the glistening, lit-up street signs displaying the beautiful names of busy restaurants and hotels, reminding me of the same signs I would stroll past in the middle of the night in Parktin, my last home. The skyscrapers and giggling couples dressed to impress coming in and out of restaurants remind me of the way my parents would come home after a date night, sprouting a small seed of guilt in my stomach that I’m sure will grow as we continue around the city.

  Strolling off the bus, Justin nods, “Let’s split up, see what we can find. If we don’t run into each other within the next 45 minutes, we’ll meet back here in front of Marty’s Pub.”

  They turn to look over their shoulders, where a man sitting on a barstool is strumming his guitar, black-box glasses falling down his nose, dark goatee in ragged shape, khakis stained with mud and grease, and a red plaid shirt, unbuttoned.

  “You couldn’t have picked somewhere with better music playing?” Eiden scrunches his face.

  “Or better food,” Aiden mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

  “I really hope that’s not Marty,” Belle sighs sadly.

  “Think of it as incentive to catch up with each other then,” Justin chuckles, pulling us off to the right of the pub, which I don’t find grotesque, to be honest.

  The group splits up, in pairs, all with the same hope to find somewhere to stay quickly, dreading the idea of having to meet back up at the pub to conspire a new game plan.

  After stalking three or four streets, disapproving a variety of offers, Justin finds a place that has more hints of home and a level of comfort than I’m used to.

  “I like that one,” I point to a five-star hotel that’s lit up all the way to the top, with balconies looking over the beach scenery, and bellhop service is always a plus.

  “Beautiful taste,” he paces slowly in front of the building. “Marble statues, crystal chandeliers, silk carpets, artwork—the classics mingled with very now pieces, like Neisel VanDulk. Upscale. Classy. A genuinely beautiful hotel.”

  “So, too hard?”

  Justin strolls back toward me and presents a red rose, “Nothing’s too hard for you.”

  Impressed by the flower, I give a small sniff and ask, “How’d you do that?”

  He winks as Peter and Belle round the corner from one side and Aiden and Eiden from the other. That’s a piece of luck. Finally. Justin slides his hands in his pocket as his gaze trails to the top of the tower.

  “Could you pick a place more discreet?” Aiden nervously fiddles with his pockets.

  “This is very discreet,” Justin declares, beginning to smirk.

  “For who? The Kardashians?” Belle tosses out the insinuation, and I add to the growing collection of smirks.

  “Hear me out. It’s got Internet access. Free, might I add,” Justin mentions, tilting his head in Aiden’s direction. “Easy accounts flooded with money to hack into and transfer around.”

  “Oh, I like that,” Aden mumbles back in return, his eyes lighting up like a child who just saw a Christmas commercial and must write Santa ASAP.

  “That’s one down,” Peter sighs, chewing loudly on gum.

  “Tons of counter space for your makeup, free hair dryer, organic shampoos, and let’s not forget a huge vanity mirror that’ll make the one in the apartment look like a joke,” Justin continues, spewing this information as if it’s a fact, not just an idea.

  “God, I bet they have free facial cream as well,” Belle whimpers, wrapping her arm around Peter’s.

  Peter continues to count, “Two.”

  “Large living space for room to work. I bet it could display not only the knives, bows, arrows, and guns that Jimmy will supply but give us a little room to examine some of the test merchandise he’s probably dying for us to play with ...” His words make Eiden’s eyebrows pop up.

  “You mean like that 427 Snake Eagle with the hidden clip? Man, I’m dying to take it apart and see just how Jimmy hides that.” His happy sigh
is followed by Peter’s wretched counting.

  “Three.”

  “You know I hear in places like that, they don’t have mini bars.” Peter’s face turns into a scowl, which is when Justin hits him with the big guns, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure they just have flat-out bars.”

  “Like a full bar?” Peter questions.

  “Oh yeah, from the looks of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had mixers in there, too. Of course, we wouldn’t be charged for it. It comes from the tax of the room, but if you think this place isn’t worth it, then maybe we should—”

  “Sold! To the gentlemen in the idiotic Mr. Monopoly hat,” Peter shoots a finger at Justin.

  Immediately, Justin glances over at him and scrunches his eyebrows, “Mr. Monopoly wore a top hat, genius.”

  “Close enough,” Peter shrugs it off.

  Compelled to argue back, I chime in, “Not even a little.”

  Ignoring me, Peter questions, “How you gonna get us in?”

  With a devious smirk, Justin says, “Well I—”

  “Peyton?” A voice cuts his off, causing us all to turn around.

  To my surprise, I see Nick with a smile on his face, in black and white plaid shorts, a black polo, and his matching black fedora.

  “Hey,” I start slowly as he maneuvers his way around my group of friends to be beside me.

  Belle mutters at Aiden, “God, it’s like the Twilight Zone.”

  “Or something out of the Matrix,” Eiden mumbles in return.

  “Or a bad horror film,” Aiden agrees as I do my best to speak over them, so they can’t be heard.

  “What are you doing down here?”

  “Headed home,” he points to a set of high-rise apartments about two blocks over from the hotel.

  “Thought you lived at the beach house.”

  “I don’t like to sleep at the office,” he shrugs, and I giggle slightly at his cockiness.

  “Are you implying that partying is a job?”

  “The hardest there is.”

  His attitude receives acknowledgment from Peter.

  “I second that notion.”

  “Of course you do,” Justin mumbles.

  “I live right there,” he points to the top of the building in what I assume could only be a penthouse dream apartment. “What are you doing down here?”