Tell Me No Lies

by A. V. Geiger

  Blair.

  Blair.

  Blair.

  Blair…

  “Tessa?” Someone was shaking her arm. Tessa looked up, confused. How long had she been out of it?

  Eric’s hand rested on her shoulder. He bent close, examining her face. “Tessa?” he said again. “Earth to Tessa.”

  She must have missed something. The hospital room door stood open. A woman in scrubs had entered, wheeling a machine before her.

  “What happened?” Tessa blinked, trying to get her bearings. Her hand lay in her lap, gripping a damp tissue. Or not just damp, she saw. The bloodred stains stood out against the white. She’d clutched it so hard that she’d dug holes in her palm with her fingernails. The sight of the bloodstains made her panic worse somehow. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t even felt the wounds as she’d inflicted them.

  Tessa thrust the bloody tissue beneath her sheet before Eric could notice.

  “Tessa,” Eric said. “Did you hear her?”

  She shook her head. Her eyes went to him, and then to the woman pushing the machine.

  “Tessa, I’m Dr. Keller,” the woman said. “Someone called for a maternity consult?”

  Tessa’s mother stalked into the room, and Tessa slumped down in the bed. She couldn’t face it. The anxiety consumed her, sucking her down like quicksand. She couldn’t escape its pull, no matter where she turned her thoughts. Maury. Blair. The baby…and somehow, her mother’s presence made it infinitely worse.

  Tessa closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking. Why didn’t any of them say anything? Couldn’t they see she was suffocating right before their eyes? Instead, they all ignored her, talking to each other. The doctor explained something about the machine and how it worked. Tessa couldn’t even understand what she was saying. It was like her brain had forgotten how to comprehend the English language.

  She needed to hold it together. Focus! Forget everything except the one thing that mattered.

  The baby.

  Tessa nodded to herself. She could do this. She didn’t have a choice. She pushed the blanket down to her hips and hiked up the hospital gown high enough to expose her abdomen. The doctor pulled up a rolling chair beside her. The ultrasound wand made contact, and Tessa sucked in her stomach, chilled by the sensation of the gel that spread across her skin. The room fell silent aside from a low whooshing sound that came from the machine.

  Her mother’s voice broke through. “What’s that? Is that a heartbeat?” She pointed at something on the monitor, gray and pulsing rhythmically.

  The doctor shook her head. “That’s Tessa’s heartbeat.”

  Tessa’s eyes flew to her mother’s face. She’d heard the way her mom’s breathing had quickened just now. Hoping, Tessa realized. Her mother was hoping they found a heartbeat.

  Could that be? Could Carla Hart—queen of the safe-sex lecture—actually want this baby to live? It went against everything Tessa thought she knew about her mom. And yet, she could see the evidence all over the older woman’s face.

  Tessa’s eyes widened with a sudden flash of insight. She understood exactly how her mother felt. Tessa knew firsthand how a baby could be unplanned and poorly timed—but still wanted. Still loved.

  The thought made Tessa’s eyes flood with sudden tears. She clamped her hand across her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Eric moved to stand beside her, and Tessa slipped her hand in his. His grasp felt firm, and it helped ease the hollow pain inside her chest.

  The doctor pursed her lips. Her eyes never left the rectangular screen that sat atop the rolling cart as she slowly moved the wand across Tessa’s skin. “And you’re how far along? Eight weeks? Are you sure about that timing?”

  Tessa felt the color rise to her cheeks. Maybe she should ask her mom to leave. Not that it would really come as a surprise to her mother when she heard Tessa’s answer. Her mom had predicted it all along.

  “It was the first time,” Tessa answered in a halting voice. “The first time I ever…we ever…”

  Even as she spoke, she could hear her mother’s voice inside her head. You’re a Hart, Tessa. It runs in your blood…

  The doctor pulled the wand away and wiped Tessa’s stomach with a towel. “You can lower your gown,” she said. She picked up the medical chart and scribbled something at the bottom.

  Eric rose to his feet and took a step in her direction. “But what did it show? What did you see?”

  The doctor shook her head. Her face was blank, her voice matter-of-fact. “I need to call for a consult.”

  “Another one?” Tessa could hear Eric’s frustration. “Why?” he asked, peering over the doctor’s shoulder. “Can’t you tell? Isn’t this supposed to be your specialty?”

  “I’m an ob-gyn,” she replied. She looked up, but her eyes went past Eric, seeking Tessa instead. “Ms. Hart, would you prefer to speak privately? I can have your family clear the room.”

  “No,” she whispered. Tessa gripped the sheet at her waist. Something in the doctor’s face made her tremble. “Just tell me. What is it?”

  The doctor smiled at her kindly. She patted Tessa’s foot through the blanket. “Do you have a history of anxiety?”

  “How is that relevant?” her mother asked. “What’s going on? What did you see?”

  But somehow, Tessa knew what the doctor was about to say. She could hear the answer in the gaps and spaces—the words the doctor hadn’t uttered.

  Tessa’s mouth filled with the familiar taste of acid burning the back of her throat. Not morning sickness after all. She should have realized… She even knew the name for the cognitive distortion.

  “Priming,” Tessa whispered. “It was all just priming.”

  Eric turned toward her. Did he remember what that word meant? She’d explained the concept over Snapchat not so long ago.

  The mind perceives what it expects to find, even if it’s not really there…

  Tessa placed a hand on her belly, still sticky from the gel. Her mother had warned her a thousand times. A million times. I got pregnant the first time your daddy even looked at me sideways… Of course her brain was primed.

  “Did you take a pregnancy test?” the doctor asked.

  Tessa looked away. “I was so sure,” she said slowly. “I had all the symptoms. The nausea. I even missed my period. Did I imagine all that?”

  “The mind can do all kinds of funny things,” the doctor explained. “We use the medical term pseudocyesis. Phantom pregnancy.”

  “Wait.” Her mother edged closer. She rested her hand on Tessa’s shoulder, and Tessa covered it with her own. “Phantom? You mean…”

  The doctor slid Tessa’s chart back into its holder. “I’ve called for a psych consult,” she said. She turned to collect the ultrasound machine and wheeled it toward the door. “I see no sign that the patient is currently, or ever has been, pregnant.”

  25

  HIT REFRESH…ON YOUR LIFE

  June 2, 2017 (One Month Later)

  Eric sat behind the steering wheel of the VW van. He hummed softly so he wouldn’t disturb Tessa while she napped in the back. His lips mouthed the first verse of his latest single: “Pistols at Dawn.”

  Caught a pair of eyes

  Where you know they’re not wanted.

  Fed up with your lies.

  Got my gun. I’m going huntin’…

  Eric bit his lip. He’d been completely fixated on Blair when he wrote those lyrics—so single-minded in his hatred that he’d failed to notice the other enemies surrounding him. Lesson learned.

  It didn’t matter now. After all the smoke had cleared, it was his career that lay in a bloody heap on the pavement. His label had released the single, but the sales numbers sucked. The fans kept tweeting that it didn’t sound like him. Too angry. Too aggressive. Nothing like the sweet, sensitive @EricThorn they knew so well. It must have been ghostwritten by someone else…

  He’d seen the hashtag going around yesterday, and it didn’t even need a retweet from MET
to make it trend.

  #EricThornIsOverParty

  2.1 million tweets

  Eric grinned. They didn’t know the half of it.

  The music video production had been put on hold indefinitely. The label might edit together the footage they’d already shot, but Eric had a feeling it would never see the light of day. Not without him around to promote it.

  It still didn’t feel real. After all these years, shackled in an ironclad record contract…a contract he’d never actually read himself. Why would he? He had a manager to handle all the legal stuff.

  Eric hummed a little louder, drumming his hands against the steering wheel.

  You’re going down.

  Let’s get it on.

  I’ll lay you out.

  Pistols at dawnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

  How had it taken him this long to hire a real lawyer? Eric had set up a conference call with a whole team of them last month, and his head was still spinning from what he’d learned.

  “Of course you can take a hiatus,” the lead counsel told him. “There’s language in place here for you to take up to a six-month leave of absence without facing any penalty.”

  “But what if I don’t want a break?” he’d asked. “What if I want to walk away for good?”

  “It’s a standard termination clause. Either party can terminate at any time with thirty days’ written notice.”

  He’d only stared at his phone, his mind reeling as he struggled to grasp what the words meant.

  “We can draft a letter on your behalf if you wish to terminate the contract.”

  “That’s it? You write a letter, and I’m free?”

  “Yes, after thirty days.”

  “And they can’t sue me? They can’t sue my family?”

  “Your family?” The lawyer sounded bewildered on the other end of the line. “Of course not. What in the world gave you that idea?”

  Eric hadn’t answered. He’d ended the call abruptly and stumbled out of the van. He’d barely made it outside before the contents of his stomach ended up on the concrete floor of his carport.

  How could he have been so naive?

  All these years, working like a dog, hating every second of the living hell that his life had become… It was all a lie, designed by Maury to control him. Maury didn’t want him quitting show business. He was Maury’s meal ticket—Maury’s one and only client. And so, his manager had figured out a way to keep Eric bound and gagged for years.

  The pure rage would have consumed him whole if not for Tessa.

  Eric tossed a backward glance through the gap between the seats. Tessa lay sprawled on the mattress, concealed by a nest of blankets. As the van sped down the freeway, the glow of passing streetlights cast her sleeping form in an alternating flicker of shadow and light.

  They’d spent the past month camping out in his carport, but the termination clause had finally kicked in yesterday. They were free to hit the road, and Eric had been more than happy to take the first shift behind the wheel.

  The only question was the final destination…

  Tessa’s mother wanted her to come straight back to Texas, but she refused. “No,” she told her mom. “I’m staying with Eric. End of story.” Not the warmest mother-daughter chat he’d ever witnessed, but at least the two of them were back in communication.

  He and Tessa had returned to his house, but they’d only stayed inside for the first night. She was OK in there as long as they remained downstairs and didn’t set foot in the bedroom. It was Eric who couldn’t handle it. He finally understood what Tessa meant when she talked about her triggers. He’d spent that whole night curled up in the corner of the couch with his eyes propped open, sweeping up and down the walls. He’d counted and recounted every electronic device in the place, imagining all the hidden cameras lurking within. By morning, he knew they couldn’t stay.

  He heard Tessa rustle the covers behind him. She made her way forward and scooted into the passenger seat, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

  “Where are we?”

  “No clue.”

  Tessa glowered at him, but he could tell she wasn’t really annoyed. “This is why people use GPS apps.”

  Eric kept his eyes firmly on the road. They’d been over this. He’d trashed both their cell phones on their way out of town—pulled the van over at the first scenic overlook he came to and tossed their phones off the edge of a cliff. “I’ll stick with road signs, thanks.”

  “But you just said you have no idea where we are!”

  He waved his hand vaguely toward the wide-open freeway before them. “Pretty sure we’re headed the right direction.”

  They’d finalized their travel plans this morning. Tessa had suggested it, and they both knew it felt right: Tijuana.

  They were headed back to their old bungalow at the Playa de la Joya Beach Club. It was the last place they’d both felt safe before Maury busted up their plans. Now they could finally pick up where they left off—and the beach club offered all the amenities they needed.

  “Voluntary ninety-day lock-in,” Eric had joked, “in a secluded, technology-free setting.”

  She’d stuck out her tongue at him. “Not funny.”

  But he saw the laughter in her eyes. It was slowly coming back—the old Tessa, with her inextinguishable positive outlook in the face of all her battles. He hadn’t been so sure a month ago. After she heard the truth about the pregnancy, she looked so lost. Silent. Vacant. With that haunted expression—like she’d misplaced something important, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Eric still caught her with that empty look in her eyes sometimes, but not so often anymore.

  The hospital psychiatrist had started her on an antidepressant, and it definitely helped. Not a total personality transplant, but she seemed better able to cope with each day’s ups and downs. He could put the radio on the pop music station without worrying that she might flinch at the sound of Dorian Cromwell’s latest hit. He called it “Tell Me No Lies.”

  Boy, you really slay me.

  I won’t apologize.

  Tell me you still love me.

  But don’t…(oh no, oh no…)

  Tell me no lies.

  Dorian’s stint in jail had only grown his fan base. Rumor had it he’d written that song from his prison cell and dedicated it to his old bandmate Hugo. Eric called bullshit, but Tessa laughed when she heard the story on TMZ. “Don’t be jealous,” she scolded. “Ariana Grande’s still available.”

  Eric smiled. He loved it when she teased him. It reminded him of the old days over Twitter. They’d lost that easy banter somewhere in the transition to real life, but he could feel it coming back. They would hit their rhythm again, he felt certain. Tijuana. They just needed to get to Tijuana…

  Eric darted a glance in Tessa’s direction. She’d fallen silent, gazing out the passenger-side window. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  Her shoulders jumped. “Huh? Oh, nothing.”

  He could tell that she was keeping something from him. The old Eric would have let it go, but not anymore. They needed to work on communicating. No more secrets. No more half-truths. No more hiding behind typed words and text messages. Real communication. Face-to-face and eye to eye.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Spill it.”

  She lifted her thumbnail to her mouth and chewed the cuticle. “I don’t want to freak you out.”

  “I can take it. Go ahead.”

  She dropped her hand and twisted her fingers in her lap. “It’s Maury. MET. I keep going over it in my head. It gets more and more messed up the more I think about it.”

  Eric knew what she meant. His thoughts kept drifting back and forth through time, retracing every moment of the past four years since Maury entered his life. One thing was clear. His manager had been keeping tabs on his cell phone from the beginning. Maury knew all about Eric’s fake Twitter account last summer, and the online friendship he struck up with Tessa. His manager had been watching the whole time.

  Tessa’s v
oice cut through his thoughts. “I was remembering the night we met in Midland. I never told you… It didn’t seem important at the time.”

  “Never told me what?”

  “MET DM’ed that night. Just before I left my house to go to the private show.” Tessa bit her lip. “It was super-creepy. I almost didn’t go.”

  Eric felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He shivered, suddenly chilled. He remembered standing in the frigid parking lot outside the club when Maury came outside, doing something on his phone. “He told me you no-showed. He said the gig was canceled.”

  “He was trying to break us up, even then.”

  “Unbelievable,” Eric said. He supposed their Twitter friendship must have amused Maury at first. But his manager drew the line when Eric decided to meet Tessa in person. And when the two of them ran away, it only cemented Maury’s resolve. He’d been trying to get rid of her ever since.

  Eric remembered his jam-packed schedule during the first weeks back from Mexico. That was Maury’s doing, not the label. His manager wanted Tessa to feel neglected. Overwhelmed. And when that didn’t work, Maury merely escalated his efforts.

  Eric pressed down on the gas pedal at the thought of his manager skulking in the shadows outside his bedroom door. How had he not seen it sooner? How had he allowed himself to trust that leering face?

  He wasn’t quite sure he trusted anyone at this point. He had a feeling he would never trust anyone or anything again.

  Well, no. That wasn’t completely true. No one except this girl sitting in the passenger seat. Eric still had Tessa by his side, more precious to him than ever. Probably the only living soul he would ever trust for the rest of his life.

  “Eric? Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine.” His hands squeezed against the steering wheel, hard enough to turn the knuckles white.

  “Pull over,” she said in his ear. “There’s a rest stop ahead.”