Twisted Lies 2

by Sedona Venez

  FIVE

  SINTHIA

  I paced back and forth, my mind spinning. I stopped and stared at his business card. How bad can he be if he’s married to a woman like Erika?

  My mind spun around the fact that my life had turned full circle. I was seeking help from the man whose son had destroyed my self-confidence for years. I knew I shouldn’t lump all assholes together, but it was hard not to.

  I heavily blew out before quickly tapping out the phone number shown on the card.

  “Mitch Fillion,” he clipped out.

  I licked my lips, which had gone desert dry. “Hello, Mr. Fillion. My name is Sinthia Michaels. I was referred to you by Erika.”

  I was a little relieved when his voice held a softer edge as he said, “How can I help you?”

  “I have a business issue. I need help with a contract.”

  “You need me to look over a contract?”

  I wiped my now sweaty palm over the leg of my jeans. “No. I need you to help me break it.”

  “Who is the contract with?”

  I exhaled slowly. “MK Partners.”

  The silence on the line lasted so long that I thought our call had gotten disconnected.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Ms. Michaels, but Mr. McKay has me on retainer.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Shit.

  “Well, this is awkward,” I mumbled while my mind whirled around one question. Will Fillion tell McKay I called him about breaking our contract?

  My fists clenched.

  There was no doubt in my mind the answer to that was yes. Damn! McKay is going to be fucking pissed.

  He didn’t seem like a man who would take kindly to the fact that I was trying to outmaneuver him.

  “Since my wife referred you to me, she must hold you in high regard, so I can recommend an excellent attorney who might be able to help you.”

  “Sure. Thank you.” I went over to my workstation, grabbed a notepad, and scribbled the name and number he gave me. “Thank you, Mr. Fillion,” I said before clicking off.

  Jesus. I am so screwed.

  ***

  Dressed and sitting on the arm of my loveseat, I swirled the wine in the glass as I stared at the clock. Jade was late again. I was already disgruntled about agreeing to go to this ridiculous gala in honor of the one man, Bigsby Calhoune, whom I did not intend to vote for as mayor. But I’d agreed to be Jade’s plus-one, and I didn’t renege on promises to friends, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  My cell rang. It was a private number. “Hello?” I answered.

  No one responded, so I hung up.

  The cell rang again with a private number. I said, “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  Heavy breathing.

  “Fuck off, pervert.” I hung up.

  The doorbell rang. I walked toward it. Peering through the peephole, I saw Jade standing on my stairs, looking annoyed but strikingly beautiful. Opening the door, I stared at her features highlighted with smoky eye shadow, a smidge of blush, and a slick touch of rose-pink lip gloss. Her nails, painted a bright shade of red, tapped against the doorframe.

  “You’re late,” I snapped.

  She held up her hand. “Don’t even start with getting all anal about me being late,” she responded while crossing the threshold.

  I slammed the door behind her.

  Rudely, she snatched my glass of wine out of my hand and took a sip.

  “Uh, you take my Jesus juice without so much as a hello?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry.” She kissed my cheek before guzzling more of the wine. “I swear, this gala is going to be the death of me.” She swallowed another gulp of wine. “I lost precious brain cells while mediating another argument between my mother and Cate over the fact that Mom and I refuse to take part in the special photo op Bigsby arranged at the gala.”

  I strolled over to the kitchen, grabbed another glass, and poured wine into it. “Sounds like rich people’s drama,” I said in a singsong voice.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. People are dying of hunger while my family’s number one concern is with whom we will or will not take a photo. Trifling but true.” Jade drained her glass and stared at me. “On a lighter note, you look absolutely gorgeous, Sin.”

  I spun around, showing off the backless part of the sleeveless beaded gown with a revealing plunging neckline that barely hid my belly button. The only thing keeping my full breasts from falling out was the discreet beaded hook right below each. I twerked my ass, calling attention to the back of the gown that was cut low to show off my back tattoos.

  I turned around to face her and asked, “So what do you think?”

  “First, did you just twerk? I think you’ve been watching way too many music videos.” Jade’s lips curled up into a smile. “Second, wow, I love the vintage vibe of your gown. How you’ve managed to pull off a look that’s elegant and includes a little butt crack is beyond me.” She tapped her bottom lip. “But you’re missing something. Don’t you have some vintage jewelry to wear?”

  “My diamond cuff bracelet. I could throw that on.”

  She frowned. “No. Not retro enough. Wait. I got it. Remember that Victorian-looking silver bracelet your father gave you for your birthday? Wear it.”

  My heart thudded. “Yeah, um…” I anxiously licked my lips. “I don’t want to wear it. Way too many sad memories.” It was stupid and pathetic, but I’d compartmentalized all my memories of Dad years ago, stowing them into a trunk I’d shoved into my guest bedroom. Out of sight and out of mind was my goal.

  She glared at me. “Sin, where did you hide it?”

  I swallowed a large mouthful of wine. “Trunk in my spare bedroom.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that look. I haven’t had many opportunities to wear it.” Well, that part was true, but the most important reason was the bracelet surfaced too many emotions—happy and sad.

  She sighed heavily. “You can’t continue to blame yourself for his death, Sin. You were young. You argued with him, but you didn’t cause that reckless driver to slam into him.”

  I blinked back the tears and fought the impending guilt. “He was driving around that night, looking for me.” The memory of that morning and the shouting match I’d had with Dad still made my heart heavy with emotion.

  ***

  It was my birthday, and I was so excited Kyle was going to take me out for lunch after school. I bounced into the kitchen, intending to grab a yogurt before heading out, only to stop at the sight of Dad flipping pancakes at the stove.

  “Dad? What are you doing here?” I was happy to see him.

  Normally, he’d leave for work before I got up in the morning, and he’d come in late at night after I was already in bed.

  He turned, grinning at me. “I’m going in late. I couldn’t miss making a birthday breakfast for my little girl.”

  I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Not little. I’m seventeen today,” I boasted before eyeing the small box wrapped in pink-and-green paper on the table.

  He smiled indulgently. “Yes, it’s for you.”

  Snatching up the box, I ripped off the paper and then pulled off the top. Nestled inside was an agate silver bracelet. “Oh, Dad, I love it.” Running over to him, I hugged him. “Thank you so much.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Give me your wrist.”

  I could barely stand still from excitement as he clasped the unusual bracelet around my wrist.

  He softly grabbed my face. “Sin, this bracelet is very special. It’s an heirloom, which belonged to my Scottish great-grandmother. It’s the only piece of our heritage that our family has left.” His eyes clouded over with emotion. “Promise me you’ll cherish it.”

  “Always, Dad.”

  “Good.” He nodded before stepping back and picking up a plate stacked with pancakes. “Sit down. The pancakes are getting cold,” he ordered before resting the plate on the table.

  Plopping dow
n at the kitchen table, I gave him a wobbly smile. Dad looked tired. Dark shadows were under his eyes. His tall frame looked gaunt. My fists tightened, hating Mom for forcing him to work longer hours so she could live the lifestyle of the elite.

  He sat down, and I tucked away my pancakes.

  “You’re not eating?” I asked in between bites.

  He pointed to his cup of coffee. “This is the breakfast of champions.” He frowned down at his cup, twirling it around in a circle.

  I arched a brow. “So what’s really going on, Dad?”

  He cleared his throat. “Sin, I found this great job out in Arizona.” He smiled stiffly. “It’s a promotion with more money. I can’t pass up this opportunity.”

  Just like that, I lost my appetite. I slammed my fork down before pushing away my plate.

  “I’m not moving again, Dad. When I started high school, you promised we wouldn’t move again.”

  His mouth tightened. “Things change.”

  I crossed my arms. “Well, I’m not moving. I’m happy here. For the first time in my life, I have a best friend and a potential boyfriend.”

  “This is not debatable, Sin. I delayed this as long as I could. We’re moving at the end of the month.”

  “At the end of the month?” I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “I like him, Dad, and he actually likes me, too.”

  He sighed. “Sin, don’t make this more difficult than it already is. We’re moving.”

  I flinched. “I’m going to be late for school.” Stiffly standing, I grabbed my backpack and tossed it over my shoulder.

  “This conversation isn’t over, young lady.” He crossed his arms. “After school, you’ll come straight home.”

  My eyes widened. “No, I’m not. I’m going out with Kyle for my birthday.”

  He stood up. “Sin, you live in my house, so you’ll abide by my rules.”

  My fists clenched and unclenched. “I hate you.”

  The color drained from this face. “Like I said, my house, my damn rules.”

  “Whatever,” I said before storming out of the kitchen.

  I didn’t give a shit about what he’d said or what he wanted. And I was determined to show him I was no longer his little girl.

  ***

  After school, I disobeyed my dad and went out with Kyle.

  After hanging out with him all night and coming in after curfew, I went home to find a cop car pulling away. Racing up the front stairs, I slammed into the house to find Grace sitting on the stairs with a drink in her hand, reeking of alcohol.

  “Why were the cops here?” I asked, my heart pounding.

  “Where the hell were you?” Grace slurred as she wobbled to her feet.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  Grace ignored me while she straightened her disheveled clothing.

  “Grace?”

  “He went out looking for you.” Guzzling her drink, she looked at me with bloodshot eyes that lacked focus. “A car slammed into his, sending him off the bridge. He’s… dead.”

  Tears streamed down my face. Lurching forward, I sought her comfort for once in my life. Grace sloshed her drink, warding me off. With a flushed face, her mouth tightened before she turned on her heel and staggered up the stairs.

  ***

  Jade’s voice jerked me out of the past. “Sin? Are you okay?”

  “I miss him so damn much.” Tears filled my eyes, making me feel like that broken girl once again. I wiped away my teardrops, hating I was still racked with so much guilt and self-loathing about that day.

  Instead of telling him, I hate you, I wished all I had said was, I love you, Dad.

  She walked toward me with her arms wide open. “Come here.”

  I swatted her arms, but she pulled me into a hug anyway. I quickly hugged her before stepping back.

  Her eyes softened. “Let it go. Forgive yourself and remember how much he loved you.” She stepped forward, smoothing my hair. “Honor his love for you and wear the bracelet.”

  It was time to let go of the guilt. I couldn’t bring him back, and pretending I didn’t miss him almost every day was disrespectful to his memory. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “You know you’re the bestest friend ever?”

  She sidled beside me, hip-checking me. “Yes, I am, and don’t you forget it.”

  I yanked her hair before strolling out of the living room with her on my heels. Stopping in my guest bedroom, I went to the pile of fabric stacked on top of the trunk. Pushing aside the folded remnants, I stared at the old worn trunk that used to be my father’s. Running my fingers along the worn leather, I smiled. Dad had dragged the ratty old trunk around the country to every place we moved. The scratched leather was so worn and dirty that I couldn’t tell the original color.

  Unlatching the lock, I lifted the top. Pulling out a stack of photos and sorting through them, I blinked when I saw one of Dad and me, taken on the beach. He was smiling and I was sticking out my tongue at the camera. I missed him. I fucking missed him every day. How abruptly I had lost him hurt. It had changed me, leaving me vulnerable and scared to let any new people into my life for fear of losing them.

  “Sin?”

  I cleared my throat. “God, I haven’t seen this stuff in years,” I muttered, continuing to sift through the photos. I stopped at a photo of a blond-haired version of myself hugging Jade.

  She snatched the photo. “Ew, it’s blond Sin. Promise me you’ll never, ever dye your hair again.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” I mumbled. I dug into the bottom of the trunk before pulling out the small silk bundle containing the bracelet. Unwrapping the fabric, I saw the impressive agate silver was still in excellent condition. I ran my fingers against the stones set into the silver. Holding it up, I examined each of the panels in between the stones, hand-engraved with patterns from scrolls to flowers to cross-hatching plaids. It was strange that this was the first time I’d actually noticed the ingraining. After clasping the bracelet around my wrist, I started to close the trunk, when something odd caught my eye.

  I blinked and then blinked again. “What’s this?”

  I yanked the piece of red leather peeking out of the broken bottom of the trunk. No, it wasn’t broken. I hit the bottom. With the thump of my palm, a secret compartment shifted completely, and a plume of dust rose, revealing a well-worn leather ledger.

  “What is that?” Jade asked impatiently, looking up from admiring the photos.

  “Some weird journal was buried in the bottom of my dad’s trunk.” I lifted the cover and flicked through the thin paper. It crackled against my fingertips.

  “What’s in it? Dirty secrets?” Jade asked.

  The first several pages were a collection of names. This was not my father’s handwriting. The initials G.L.C. were scrawled in red ink at the bottom of every page. Next came numbers and phone numbers. All the pages had codes running along the margins.

  “Nothing I understand.”

  The ledger had been deliberately concealed in the false bottom. Why did Dad hide this?

  My dad had been the most transparent person I knew, and if he’d hidden it, there had to be a good reason.

  I pushed the journal back into the false bottom, banged the base back into place, and then dumped everything I’d pulled out back on top of it, promising myself to further investigate the ledger over the weekend.

  SIX

  SINTHIA

  Jade and I walked out of my townhouse and down the stairs toward Kirby, Jade’s chauffeur.

  He was leaning against the expensive luxury SUV. He pushed away, tilting his head toward us. “You look lovely, Miss Michaels.”

  “Thank you, Kirby.” I smiled impishly at him. “How’s my favorite man?”

  He smiled. “Still way too old for you.”

  I winked at him. “Age is nothing but a number.”

  I loved messing with Kirby. He was an older version of James Bond—gray but still hot and dangerous.

  Jade rolled her eyes. “Wil
l you get in?”

  He chuckled while opening the door, and then he helped us maneuver our gowns into the SUV. He strolled around to the driver’s side and slid in while we fastened our seatbelts.

  Kirby fastened his seatbelt before turning the key and revving the engine. He smoothly pulled into the Manhattan traffic before zipping in and out of the snarl of taxicabs and buses.

  Jade pulled out her cell, pressing her cheek against mine. “Selfie time,” she chirped. “Smile, Sin.” She pouted prettily.

  I scowled. “Nothing to smile about,” I responded dryly.

  “Got it.” She took the photo. “And posted.” She kissed my cheek. “And next time, you’d better smile because I assure you that grimace will be torn apart by my followers.” She threw the cell in her clutch.

  “Nice. More critics. That’s exactly what I need right now.” I rubbed my temple, feeling a wicked headache approaching. “Why am I doing this again?” I mumbled under my breath while frowning at the New York City gridlocked traffic.

  She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Because there’s a special place in hell for people who don’t support their besties.”

  “I hate these types of events with rich people parading down the red carpet like racehorses.”

  “Hey”—she gave me a fake pout—“rich person here.”

  I petted her silky black hair like a horse’s mane. “And you’re my favorite rich person,” I cooed.

  “So rude.” Jade swatted my hand.

  I laughed. “Come on. You know what I mean. I hate these things. Red carpets are so fucking intimidating,” I explained. “Not that the paparazzi will be remotely interested in me, but I do have to walk down the thing in order to get into the gala.” I winked at her. “And more importantly, the open bar.”

  “The red carpet is scary, even for me, but you can do this.” She reassuringly squeezed my hand. “I’ve seen you give a lecture on fashion design in front of hundreds of sarcastic, know-it-all young fashion students. You can do this.” She leaned forward and tapped on Kirby’s shoulder. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Miss Michaels is tough as nails.” Kirby winked at me in the rearview mirror.

  All too soon, we slowed, and I could see flickers of light up the road. We were in line to be dropped off. Kirby pulled up to the venue and stopped.