Lost in Deception

by Anita DeVito

  She turned the light on and in under five minutes stuffed the few clothes she had back into the roller bag. She took off his sweater and shoved it into the garbage can. She pulled on a form-fitting T-shirt and a favorite sweatshirt. She ran into the bathroom to brush her teeth and get her toiletries.

  She froze with one foot inside the door. There he was, sleeping in the bathtub, cradling a bath towel like a teddy bear.

  Her bravado turned tail, leaving her bare before the man who didn’t want her. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he would wake. It took more than a few deep breaths to convince her feet to move forward. She snatched her makeup bag and toothbrush. Some sadistic part of her couldn’t keep her eyes off Tom.

  She thought hard—it was Saturday. Only Saturday. It had been less than a week, but it felt like she’d always known him.

  Heart heavy, she went to him. His breath caught, and he shifted in his sleep, but his eyes didn’t open.

  He didn’t look at her and say he was sorry.

  He didn’t say he didn’t mean the things he said.

  He didn’t say he loved her.

  And he never would.

  She bent down, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and let go of the fantasy. Hurrying now, she left his room and went to Poppy’s door. She knocked softly as not to startle him. “Poppy? It’s me.”

  “Come in.” He was sitting up in bed, his pajamas and hair disheveled but otherwise awake. Without seeing, he saw her. She could never hide from him. “You are leaving?”

  “We are, Poppy. I’m going today. You’ll come home as soon as I have a place ready.”

  “This is home now,” he said defiantly, lifting his chin.

  “This isn’t our home,” she said, not trying to hide her own feelings of loss. “These aren’t even our friends. This is…a freak stroke of bad luck.”

  “What about Tom? Are you going to leave him?”

  She ran the back of her hand over her cheek. “You have to be together to leave someone.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “Anderson? I’m not with him, either. I’m where I usually am—between the tip of a sword and a long, cold drop into the abyss. And believe me, I’m not Peter Pan. There’s no flying away.”

  Poppy cocked his head. “Isn’t there? Isn’t that what you are doing?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to relive the blow-by-blow account of her last exchange with Tom. “I’m leaving in a half hour. Katie said she’d take me to the airport.”

  “You are so sure this is the right thing.” It wasn’t a question, and the inflection in his voice made it clear that he did not think this was the right thing.

  She dropped her head in defeat. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. I just know I can’t stay here. It may be time to put your house on the market and find you a nice condo. There’s no need for you to keep up with a house anymore.”

  Poppy raised a single eyebrow. “So now you are making decisions for me?”

  “I’m not saying we put it on the market tomorrow. But Rico’s gone, and I’m going to have to go find work somewhere—”

  “—why not here?”

  “Where here? Cleveland?”

  “Here here. You can work for Jebediah.”

  She snorted and leaned down to kiss her grandfather’s cheek. “You always know how to make me smile.”

  There was a small gathering in the garage as her bags were put into the trunk of Katie’s GTO. They were a motley assortment; Katie and Jeb were dressed for the day, but Poppy, Butch, Nate, and Carolina were in robes and pajamas. Of course, there was one notable face missing. She didn’t look around for the him she refused to name. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how wounded she was. Instead, she closed the trunk and turned to thank these fine people for their hospitality.

  Except tears were pouring down Carolina’s face, which made Jeb snarl. Poppy’s eyes were shining, though he blamed it on the sun. Carolina squeezed his hand.

  “Here,” Carolina said, holding out an envelope. “Your winnings from last night. Over four hundred dollars.”

  “I want a chance to win my money back,” Jeb said.

  “Sorry, big guy. That appearance was for one night only.” She managed a small smile.

  Until she turned to Katie, who was bawling like a baby against her husband’s bare chest. “It’s the hormones. That’s all. Well, maybe not all. But it’s mostly the hormones. God, I’m going to kick Tom’s ass. Where the hell is he?”

  “Sleeping it off in his bathtub.”

  Butch pulled Peach into his arms with his wife. “Life’s been interesting with you around. I’m gonna miss that.”

  She stiffened, surprised by the display of affection, then relaxed. It had been a long time since someone just hugged her, and the odds of getting another one soon were piss poor. She hugged them back, taking what she could get.

  “Thank you,” she said to all of them. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t let us stay. You have a special place here.”

  Katie sobbed, and Butch took the keys from her hand. “You can’t drive like that. Get in, and I’ll take y’all into town.”

  “Not dressed like that you’re not,” Katie said, sobering up quickly. “All we need is for Abitchgail to get an eyeful of you driving around half naked. Gimme those back.” She snatched away the keys Butch didn’t try to keep. Blue fire was in her eyes; Peach suspected that had been Butch’s goal the whole time.

  Peach winked at Katie. “I won’t forget about Abitchgail. I can work my magic long distance.”

  “You stay in touch. Call us when you get home.” Carolina hugged Peach tightly. Eventually, Jeb did, too.

  “I’ll call,” she said, choking on the words.

  Saturday, April 15 eleven-thirty a.m.

  Tom bounced off the hallway wall, squinting against the bright light of his living room. It had been years since he’d been this bad the morning after. No, he corrected himself as the wall fell away and he did the same. The couch caught him. He had never been this bad. His body was an atlas of aches and pains. He woke wanting Peach, strategizing on how to talk her out of the rich man’s bed. Once he pried himself out of the bathtub, he staggered into the bedroom, but she wasn’t there. His head pounded so hard he couldn’t stand straight. She should know that he wanted her there, in his house, before she made her decision. He just needed to catch his breath, then he’d find her. He draped his arm over his eyes. The birds outside the window had it in for him, chirping and singing until his head wanted to split open and spill out the few brain cells he had left.

  Jeb deep voice slid under the pain. “Clyde, you look tore up.”

  “Feel tore up,” he said, moving only his lips.

  “I feel compelled to carry you back to bed.”

  “Touch me and you’re a dead man.” He put spitfire into it, making sure the man kept his distance. “I won’t complain if you get me a glass of water and a pain killer the size of Kilimanjaro. They’re behind the bar—”

  “I know where they are.” Tom felt more than heard Jeb move through the room. His refrigerator opened and a cabinet door. A plastic bottle with the miracle concoction shook. “Can you sit up?”

  “Yes. I’m not helpless.” Tom pulled his arm away, opening one eye as he licked his cracked lips. He slowly pushed up to sitting and accepted the pills and water. His throat was so dry that swallowing was difficult. “Where’s Peach? She hasn’t come back to our room.”

  Jeb sat down on the coffee table, elbows perched on his knees. “How much do you remember about last night?”

  God, he didn’t like his tone. “Why?”

  “Tom, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but she’s gone.”

  There was no humor in Jeb’s eyes, and he’d called him by name. Tom pushed himself taller. His headache went from pounding to raging, but he pushed it away. “Gone? With that guy?”

  “No. She told Katie she turned him down.”

 
Relief was a cool breeze, soothing his aching body. “Where did she go?”

  “Flew back north.”

  He swung around and planted his feet on the floor, but the room didn’t stop. Then his stomach impersonated a roller coaster. Jeb shoved the trash can in his hands, but Tom held it together. Those little pills needed to stay where they were. The room stopped spinning, and he drank the rest of the water. “Did she go alone?”

  Jeb nodded. “Poppy is going to stay with us another day or two. She needed some time to get things cleaned up.”

  “And you let her go?” Outrage and disbelief banged on his pounding head.

  “I couldn’t stop her—”

  “—there’s still a killer on the loose.” He raised his voice, ignoring the way his head thumped. All he could see was her beautiful body in the greasy and sadistic hands of Michael Fabrini.

  Jeb turned his empty palms up. “She didn’t want to hear it. What the hell happened last night?”

  Tom slogged through the swampy memories. Poker, he remembered that. The bastard showing up and proposing to Peach, that was stamped into his brain. After that, it got spotty. He buried his head in his hands. “What did I do?”

  “The way I heard it, you called her a slut and told her to get out. I can’t imagine you doing that. Did you?”

  Without a memory, he had no defense. He’d been crushed when that Anderson character went down on his knee. Peach hadn’t shoved him on his ass. The betrayal cut him to the core. He loved her, and she leaped on the shiny rock.

  So he thought.

  Jeb rose to his full height and headed for the door. “What you did was piss off the two women that live in this house. Butch is pissed because Katie’s upset. I’m not thrilled with you. I was starting to like that little delinquent, and then you go and run her off. If I were you, I’d lay low for the day.”

  Alone, Tom sat back, head falling onto the cushion. Tears ran down to his ears. He remembered the courtyard and snapping at Katie. He remembered the haystacks. Then he wasn’t alone. Stella had haunted him for fifteen years. He’d fallen in love and been foolish enough to act on it. “Not foolish. Brave. Standing on that boardwalk was the most courageous thing I’ve ever done.” With every woman since Stella, he’d been a coward, never giving her a chance to get close. Until Peach.

  He fought his way off the couch. Using the walls for balance, he went into his room. From the top of his closet, he pulled a fire-proof box, opened it, and dumped it out on his bed. A black velvet box rolled across it. Opening it, he removed the diamond solitaire in a simple setting. The rock was tiny in his hand, so at odds with the impact it had on his life.

  Maybe Stella was right. If he hadn’t shut the door on love, he wouldn’t have his company or his PhD or any of his other successes. In a strange way, if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have Peach because he would be married. Thanks to Stella, he waited.

  Now, he needed to act.

  In his bathroom, he held the ring over the toilet bowl. “I’m done being angry. I’m done being afraid. I’m done with you.” He dropped the ring and pressed the handle. “Bye, Stella. Enjoy the ride.”

  He started the shower, drank another glass of water, and began planning his next move.

  Saturday, April 15 two p.m.

  Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the button. Peach felt completely alone in the world. A ghost that interacted in other people’s lives but was never truly a part of it. Life knocked her down again. She wondered how many times she could pick herself up before it wasn’t worth the effort. She looked at her phone, the red button daring her to press it. She felt all the more alone for walking away from two women she could have easily called her sisters. She didn’t want to hear funny stories about family antics or laughter from the love-struck couples. It just hurt too much. But Poppy was living there, on their generosity, so she pressed it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Carolina. It’s me…Peach.”

  “I know who you are. You only left seven hours ago.”

  “Right. So am I interrupting?”

  “No. I was just finishing the research I pulled together on explosives. Taylor was driving me crazy, racing in and out of the house, so I’m just sitting in the kitchen with the back door open. If you hear a lot of noise, it’s just him. So what have you been…what do you have Taylor? Is that a sock?…Squirrel! Bad Taylor. Bad, bad, disgusting Taylor. Get it out of here now…Not that way,” Carolina shrieked. “That way.”

  Peach heard a door slam solidly and bit her lip, holding back her smile.

  “That’s disgusting. Truly disgusting.”

  The weight of the day lifted with laughter. In her mind’s eye, she could picture the beautiful, delicate Carolina chasing the long-legged puppy with a squirrel in his mouth. “Was it dead or alive?”

  “Dead. Thoroughly dead.” Carolina gagged. “Oh. I may have to gargle with mouthwash.”

  Peach chuckled. “Well, I’m home. Calling as directed.”

  “Late. You should have been home two hours ago. Was there a problem with the flight?”

  “No, Mother. It arrived on time. I took the train to downtown, got my car, and drove home. Where is Poppy? He isn’t answering his phone.”

  Carolina chuckled. “He went out with Mrs. Teasdale, again. They are sweet together.”

  An unnamed emotion swept through her. Here she was, worrying herself gray over where he could live and how she would pay the bills, and he was out on a date. WTF? “Tell him to call me, if he can fit me in his schedule.” The house phone rang. “Hold on a minute.” Peach picked up her grandfather’s phone. “Hello. Hello?” A click followed. “The phone has been ringing off the hook. Two ‘ladies’ checking on Poppy and three, now four, hang ups,” she said to Carolina. “It’s getting annoying.”

  “Are you going to stay at Poppy’s house?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry. No one knows I’m here, and I’m not without my own resources.” Her fingers stroked the cold metal of her gun. “Well, I better let you go.”

  “Yeah,” Carolina said quietly. “I guess. You take care.”

  “You, too.”

  Saturday, April 15 two-fifteen p.m.

  Tom crashed through the kitchen door, tripping over the threshold. The noise was an ice pick to his brain, but he ignored it. He brushed passed Carolina, locked on to the coffee pot that was mercifully full and hot. “Where’s Jeb? I need him.”

  Carolina raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “He should be in his office. You all right? You look…rough.”

  “I feel rough.” He went to the intercom panel and buzzed Jeb.

  “Yeah?”

  “I need your plane and your pilot. Now. Like, faster than now.”

  “I’m on my way. We’ll talk.”

  “What the hell is with all the talking?” he shouted into the microphone. “I’m done talking. I’m going after Peach.”

  “You are?” He heard the skepticism in Carolina’s voice and leveled a look that made her smile. She put bread in the toaster and started cutting strawberries. “Of course you are. I knew you’d come to your senses.”

  Jeb sprinted toward them, his firm jaw set. He blasted the door open with the flat of his hand hard enough that it bounced off the wall behind with a thunderous crash. “Who left the gate open?”

  Tom cringed at the noise while Carolina shrunk into herself. “I opened it for a delivery. I forgot to close it, Jeb.”

  “What’s happened?” Tom asked as they followed Jeb to the front door. Nate and Butch met them, coming out of the game room.

  “Who’s here?” Butch asked.

  “Peach’s fiancé,” Jeb said.

  The hangover lifted, replaced by testosterone-loaded scorn. “He’s not her fiancé,” Tom said, shoving to the front.

  “How did he get in?” Butch asked.

  “Anybody can get in. I don’t know why we even have a gate. Y’all leave it open more than closed.” With teeth bared, Jeb pulled the door open.


  “I’ll handle this.” Tom went out of the house and waited on the walkway as the rental car slid to a stop.

  Anderson Bingham threw open the door and stalked around the car, anger evident in his tight face and fists. “I want to see Em. I’m her fiancé. I have a right to see her. She’s here, and I demand you produce her this minute.”

  Tom understood how Anderson was feeling. He was feeling that way himself. He’d fucked up, and he wanted to take it out on somebody, too. “You’re on private property. Get out now.”

  Anderson stepped into his face. “I’m calling the police. You’ve kidnapped her. Brainwashed her. Look at this place. It’s some kind of cult, and Em has drunk the Kool-Aid. That’s the only rational explanation why she would turn me down. What kind of bullshit did you feed her? What kind of drugs? Is that what she meant by seeing ‘real love’ and won’t settle for less? Won’t. Settle,” he raged, pulling the ring from his jacket and throwing it with all his might. “I’ll show that bitch what settling is. She was nothing but slum-baby, an Air Force reject until she met me—”

  Tom cold cocked the bastard. “Nobody talks about Peach like that.”

  Anderson took the punch on his cheek, bounced off the car, and flung himself at Tom. Tom took a hard right to the eye, then grabbed a handful of that fancy, white shirt, and clubbed him in the ear. Legs tangled, and balance was lost. They rolled around on the gravel drive, kicked up a cloud of dust as their feet dug deep. Tom arose on top. Exhausted, he drove a weak fist into the bloody mouth one last time before staggering to his feet.

  “You say one more thing about Peach and you’ll be picking your teeth up with tweezers.”

  Anderson propped himself up on one elbow. “You son of a bitch. She was mine. You had no right to take her.”

  “You threw her away. You had everything, but you were too stupid to see it. She’s moved on. Time for you to do the same.” He sickened himself as he flung the words at his rival, knowing he’d done the same thing. But he was different. He learned, and he’d make it up to her, every damn day for as long as it took.