Staci hesitated as she reached for the phone, overwhelmed by a sudden storm of panic over the thought of lying. Successfully. To her mother, of all people.
Since finding out what Drew really did for a living years ago, Staci had left the lying to her mother to him. Drew made up the stories. Staci nodded along and gave vague answers when her mother pressed her. “Drew’s out of town on business. No idea what he’s up to. He never talks much about what he does,” was her standard answer. All too true.
After Ciudad, she’d simply clammed up, claiming shock and saying she couldn’t face the memories. Her mother and Sam believed she’d been accompanying Drew on a business trip when, as an innocent tourist, she got caught crosswise in a drug-war battle in a crowded tourist area.
Ever since her screwup and the torture in Ciudad del Este, the thought of lying sent Staci into a state of panic. She paused midreach and wiped her hand on her paper napkin. The pizza was greasy, but her palms had gone clammy on her, too.
Drew shook the phone at her with the impatience of kindergartner ready for recess.
She grabbed it away from him and tried to cover her fear with defiance. “Mom’s more of a wine-bar girl. I’ll take her to Red.”
Drew shrugged again, acting too nonchalant. What was he up to?
She took the phone from him and stared at it for a second before looking back to him for help. “I’ll never pull this off. You know I can’t lie to my mother.” She took a deep breath and sighed, resigned. “I never could.”
Drew pulled his chair around next to her and plunked into it. He put a hand on her shoulder. A hand that was warm and sturdy, and squeezed with strength and confidence. A touch that ignited a longing in her for what used to be. And damn him, a longing for him.
She would have shaken his hand off, but his touch felt surprisingly reassuring. Under the assault of panic, she couldn’t afford to turn away his help or comfort in any form, no matter how casual and self-serving.
“On the phone should be easy,” he said.
For you, maybe.
“I’ll give you some pointers. What do you say to some role-playing? I’ll be you and you be your mom. Sound good?”
She looked down at the table and shook her head. It sounded hideous and made her pulse shoot up by about a hundred beats a minute, not to mention made her blood pressure rise.
Be my mom! Right. If she had any inkling what her mom would say to her, the kind of grueling, grilling questions her mom would ask, she wouldn’t be this nervous. Mom had a way of throwing curve questions at her without warning, all with a deceptively calm smile on her face.
Breathe easy, Staci told herself. Stay calm. Don’t throttle Drew.
They’d been over this territory before. Again and again. Drew had been trying to teach her how to lie convincingly since she’d found out he was a spy. Without any measurable success.
Her lack of skill at lying gave fodder to speculative gossip among her friends and family. It was why so many of them seemed suspicious about her relationship with Drew and about what Drew did for a living. And about the real reason he traveled so much. Think conspiracy theories gone wild.
Staci had relatives who were convinced he was a bigamist with another family squirreled away somewhere. A real family, implying children were part of the equation. If they only knew Drew’s opinion on children. The man wasn’t ready for them. But her family not-so-secretly wondered how she could compete with babies. Others of her blood-is-thicker-than-water family thought he was running drugs or involved in some kind of complicated Ponzi scheme.
Fortunately, none of them had ever placed a wager on whether he was a secret agent. One of her cousins had, however, given her a book on how to tell if your husband was having an affair. And her aunt professed to be an expert on spotting lipstick, and other things, that shouldn’t be on your husband’s collar.
Every day Staci stayed with Drew she put him in more danger. A quick memory flashed through her mind.
Beto Bevilacqua standing in front of her. “Where is your husband?”
“I don’t have a husband!”
At the time, she had no idea how Beto had tracked her down, or knew she was married to Drew. Drew had kept her well hidden, and she’d been so careful about making sure she wasn’t followed.
“You do. Tell me!” A memory of Beto’s hand flashed through her mind, his fingers covered with heavy metal rings as he made a fist. The veins on his arms bulging. Beto’s eyes glittering with a kind of evil she’d never seen before.
The swiftness with which his fist smacked into her jaw when she hesitated, trying to think up a lie. The searing pain that shot up her face and the ringing in her ears.
She forced the memory away, and, without thinking, rubbed the tiny scar on her chin, the one Beto’s skull ring had left.
Drew shook his head, gently removed her hand from her chin, and tucked it in her lap, clasping her hand and bringing her focus back to the present. “No face touching. It’s a dead giveaway that you’re lying.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can.”
She shook his hand off hers and looked him in the eye. “How am I supposed to lie to her about something like this, Drew? She’ll be crushed when we separate again and divorce.”
He turned her chair to face his. “I’m sorry, Stace. This is just part of the game, something we have to live with. Collateral damage is inevitable.” He sounded sincere and surprisingly patient.
“Collateral damage. Geez, Drew.” She shook her head. “Haven’t we told enough lies?”
He didn’t answer.
She sighed. “Lying to Mom now makes me as big a hypocrite as she was when cancer was killing Dad. I’ve told you this before. They lied to me. Pretended his illness was no big deal, that everything would be okay. Until the day he died, they acted as if he’d live to be a hundred.
“Mom deprived me of the memories I would have made with him if I’d known from the beginning how little time he had left.
“Lying hurts people, Drew.”
“And saves others.” Drew’s tone was gentle. “Your mother’s not a child. And we’re not lying out of some misguided notion of sparing someone’s feelings. Your life is at stake here.”
He was right. But she still didn’t like it. She blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know how you do it. When I try to lie, it’s like I’m perpetually five and stuck in that don’t lie to your mother mode. There’s always an involuntary, automatic instant, a second of dead air, when I struggle with myself. I know I should lie, but lying is wrong and hurts people. The thought stops me cold and gives me away.”
He was studying her. “Yeah, I know that moment. It’s the one where you pause and look up and to the left—signaling to the world you’re making up a story.”
“It’s still that obvious?” She thought she’d gotten better. He’d told her long ago that when people think, they look up. When they’re remembering, they look right. When they’re creating, they look left. She tried so hard not to look up at all. “Think I could pass for a leftie?” In lefties, it’s reversed.
“I think your mom knows better.”
“Yeah, probably.” She took a deep breath and tried to put a light touch on things. “How about newly ambidextrous? Ambidextrous people have to be impossible to read. Which way do they swing?”
“Who knows? Let’s work with what we have.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.
Surprised, she didn’t pull away. Or maybe it was because he was hanging on too tightly.
“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. Looking up is automatic, subconscious. Most people don’t know how to read it. Problem is—it gives people a gut feeling that something’s off. It’s the pause that’s killing you. We’ll have to find a way to work with it.” He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb and grinned at her. “Have I ever told you a liar’s eyes dilate?”
He looked her directly in the eye. “So do those of people who are aroused.”
She wrenched her hand out from his, resisting the urge to give him the lip lashing he deserved. “So how do you know—lust or lie? Makes it hard for a man at a bar.”
“A lot of things make it hard for a man at a bar,” he shot back.
She frowned at him. “We were talking about lying.”
“So we were.” He grinned. “I’ve been thinking about your inability to lie a lot since…”
They both knew since what and since when.
He cleared his throat. “A lot. Honesty isn’t a genetic trait. It can be taught, and so can lying.”
“So what have you come up with, Freud?”
His grinned deepened. “A somatic response.”
“What!”
“If every time you’re faced with a situation where you have to lie you know there’s something you have to remember, you’ll automatically look up and to the right and the pause will seem natural. Follow me?”
Staci nodded. “Because I’m remembering.”
“Exactly. And then—” He pointed at her. “—while you’re remembering, you’ll remember to stare directly at your subject as you create the lie. And you will tell your lie with complete confidence. And voilà, you’re the perfect liar.”
She frowned at him, not sure she believed him. “That sounds deceptively simple.”
“Deceptive is what we want.” His eyes danced.
“What am I supposed to remember? I suppose you’ve thought of that, too?”
“Naturally.” He grinned. “Lying saves lives.”
“Lying saves lives?” She shook her head in disbelief. “That kind of flies against the old Liar, liar, pants on fire ideology, doesn’t it?”
“In this case, it’s true,” he said.
It was certainly true in Ciudad del Este. If she’d been able to lie convincingly then, Jack wouldn’t be dead and her friend, Willow, a widow.
“You’re remembering something,” he said, watching her.
She shook her head. “Nothing you need to know about.”
“You were remembering a time when lying would have saved your ass. Or someone’s.” He raised a brow.
She glared at him and he let it drop.
“Let’s give it a try.” He nodded encouragingly. “Test my theory. You can do this.”
She shot him a skeptical look.
“It’s tomorrow. You’re having lunch with your mom. Pretend I’m her. Our baked Brie appetizer has just arrived. We each have a glass of white wine in our hands.”
He picked up his beer bottle and held it so daintily and so uncannily like her mother she nearly laughed. He pitched his voice higher and sounded more like a bad imitation of an old woman than her mom. “You have something to tell me, dear? Don’t hold out on me. I know you’re dying to share.”
“You do not sound like Mom. She’d never say Don’t hold out or call me dear.”
“We’re pretending here,” he said. “So?”
She paused.
He jumped right in. “No, no, no! I can’t believe you’re having trouble with this part. It isn’t even a lie.”
“Yes it is.”
“Are we not back together?” he asked.
“For two seconds. It’s a lie that we’re really back together. We’re more together so that someone doesn’t kill me.”
“The why doesn’t matter, just the facts. Right?”
She frowned. “Right.”
“Okay then, back to the beginning. When I ask what’s up, you have something to remember, remember?”
“Yeah, ‘Lying saves lives.’”
“That’s right. So, here goes, I’m your mom again. You have something to tell me, dear?”
She took a deep breath. Lying saves lives. She forced herself to focus and look him directly in the eye. “Drew and I have reconciled.”
“Oh, boy, now that sounds spontaneous and believable. Could you make it a little more stiff and stilted? A little more monotone, maybe?” He shook his head and frowned, obviously exasperated. “You’re just going to spring it on her like that? No prep work? No ground softening first?”
“The straightforward truth is always best. Isn’t it enough that I have to lie? Now you want me to tell her a story, too?” She scowled at him.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Feed her first if you have to. Get her nice and full, drowsy and relaxed. Then hit her with the news.” He punched the air for emphasis. “Everyone loves story time after lunch. We’ve been programmed for it since kindergarten.
“And a little pause or two would add authenticity. But only if you want to actually convince her. I’d hate to think you’re sabotaging the mission already.”
Already? She raised a brow and continued scowling. Now he was just being sarcastic and trying to rile her up. “I wouldn’t dare.” Staci crossed her arms. “You told me once liars talk too much, give too many details. I’m only trying to stick to the script.”
“Okay, misinterpret me. That’s not going to help us.” He took a deep breath.
Staci could tell the strain of trying to be patient was wearing on him. Drew had never been a patient man. Nor was he cut out to be a teacher.
“Stace, you have to read the situation. In this case, telling the ‘truth’ of us reuniting is going to be more difficult than lying.” He gave her a deadpan look. “At least for most people. So telling her we’re back together is going to look a lot like ineffective lying. You want to appear hesitant and guilty. In this case, lying plays to your strengths.”
Her strengths, right. “Okay, what would you say, big shot?”
“First, I’d use your natural hesitancy and pauses to add authenticity. Something like this isn’t easy to blurt out. You know Linda’s not going to necessarily jump for joy at this news. I’m sure you’ve painted me as an ass since the breakup.”
“I have not!”
He raised a brow. “Now you’re just insulting me with your barefaced lies.”
He has me there. She felt her face flush.
He laughed at her obvious discomfort. “You jumped in too quickly and vehemently with that one. Next time, tone it down a little.”
“Too hesitant, too quick,” she said. “Seems a girl can’t win around here.”
He grinned. “A girl can win. If she reads the situation, watches body language, and pays attention to her coach.”
He got back to business. “Now I’m you. For simplicity, I’m also your mom.” He put down his beer, sat up straight, and crossed his legs in an effeminate manner, playing with his hands in his lap.
“Now you’re just making fun,” Staci said. “I don’t sit like that.”
He shot her a quick look that said she did, then jumped back into character and looked down at his lap, stealing glances at her with a nervous look in his eye. “Mom, I have something to tell you.” Heavy pause. “Drew’s back in town.”
“Drew’s back? Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry!” He still didn’t sound like her mom, but he had some of her intonation down. “How are you handling it? Has that beast been bothering you?”
Staci snorted and interrupted. “Mom doesn’t call you a beast.”
He looked up at her from beneath his lids, appearing decidedly unconvinced. And well he shouldn’t have been. Linda didn’t call him a beast. She called him something far worse.
“Hey! I’m in the middle of an instructive performance here.”
“Sorry.” Staci wasn’t sorry, and it probably showed.
He bit his lip as she often did.
“Now that’s just a parody.”
He stayed in character, ignoring her as he hesitated and stared into his lap again. “He stopped by the house to pick up a few of his things yesterday.” He glanced up and looked her in the eye. Speaking in a rush he blurted out, “Oh, Mom, seeing him again, I realized, we both realized, we’d made a big mistake.”
He paused, looking at her as if he were pleading with her. “I love him. I always have. I can’t live without him.” He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “We’re back
together. I’ve moved into his condo. The divorce is off.”
The big-mistake part rattled her. He sounded so believable, he nearly convinced her, damn him. However, her mom was a tougher bird than she was.
Drew grinned at her. “See how I used the pauses to make the story ring true?”
Staci frowned. “Yeah, you’re a great actor. Must have been all those classes you took.”
He ignored her jibe. “You try.”
She shook her head. “No way.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t need practice. I’ve got it. Too much practice and the whole thing will come out sounding stiff and rehearsed.”
She had no intention of looking him in the eye and telling him she was still in love with him, even if he was supposed to be her mother.
He persisted. “Fair enough. No pretending you’re talking to Linda. Just look me in the eye and tell me you love me. If you can convince me of that, you’re ready for tomorrow.”
Her mouth fell open. “Nothing like asking the impossible. I couldn’t convince you of that when we were happily married.”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “Come on. Give it a try.”
“I love you,” she said in her best monotone, knowing she was simply goading him with her lack of effort.
“Uncross your arms, closed body posture is not your friend, and say it like you mean it.” He stared at her intently. “Just once. With feeling.”
She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward to stare into his eyes. He wanted a convincing performance, fine, she’d give him one. So he would finally leave her alone. She knew how stubborn he was.
She scooted forward until their knees touched and took his hands in hers before staring him in the eye, pretending with all her being that this was the first time she’d told him she loved him. “I love you, Fields.” She squeezed his hands.
He pulled his hands free and, before she could move away, cupped her face gently in his hands. “I love you, too, babe.”
His voice was so soft, it nearly broke.
One thing was for sure, the tender look in his eyes was breaking her heart and causing her pulse to race in a way it hadn’t since they first started dating.
He leaned forward.
She remained in place. Or maybe she did lean forward. With the world tilting like it was, it was hard to tell.
Diamonds Are Truly Forever: An Agent Ex Novel 2 Page 6