White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1)

by Kristin Mayer

  I got glaring eyes from the man staring at me. “Don’t you dare say a word, Willow. Italy. Wingman. She’s grabbing my ass.” Laughter bubbled to the surface.

  Another knock. Then the doorknob turned—Rosie knew no bounds. “What was that, Willow? Did you say you saw where he was?”

  “No, I’ve been in here unpacking.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep looking.” A defeated-sounding Rosie left the door.

  Carson flopped on the bed, sending a few of the nautical throw pillows onto the floor. “Holy hell. That girl is tenacious.”

  I sat next to him. “She’s keeping you on your toes. It’s good for you.”

  A groan emitted as his arm flew over his eyes. “I’m sleeping in here tonight on the couch. I bet she has a lock pick to get past the lock.”

  “She may have a key. It would save all that lock picking time,” I concluded matter-of-factly with a straight face.

  Carson shivered. “This is terrible.”

  “But so entertaining. At least you have me as your wingman.”

  As he went to grab my feet to tickle them, I warned, “I’ll scream your name and say I found you.”

  “You wouldn’t.” His hands paused, knowing my threat was real.

  “Oh, I so would, Carson. You know it. And then I’ll take myself to Italy.”

  I got the Whitmore glare he used to intimidate people. It had no effect on me. “Traitor.”

  Rosie was being a little more ambitious than she normally was. “Maybe we should invent you a girlfriend. She always backs off when you’re dating someone.”

  He raked a hand over his eyes. They twinkled when he looked at me. “I think you may have just earned your Wingman title.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  Carson slept on my bed. I’d snuck out to say hello to everyone, avoiding answering Rosie directly when she asked where Carson was. Somehow she fit into our group, even with her neurotic obsessed tendencies. It was expected as she took turns choosing which guy to obsess over.

  Rosie and I ate pizza in the kitchen. Most everyone else was in the backyard drinking. Our house had somehow become the central party location. Part of me wanted to tell her where he was, but I couldn’t. I snickered at the thought.

  She sighed. “So, what color lingerie does Carson like?”

  I started choking and grabbed my drink. “Umm… I have no idea. We’ve never discussed it. Honestly, I don’t want to know. He’s like a brother to me.”

  She twirled a finger in her hair, revealing a clover-shaped birthmark. “I brought this teal blue nightie with feathers on it. It’s perfect. Don’t you think? It’ll drive Carson wild for sure.”

  Sometimes, I thought Rosie had a few screws loose, but I wondered if it might be an act. I wasn’t sure. “Umm… Carson may not…”

  Daggers filled her eyes as she took a huge gulp of her martini. “How would you know if he’s like a brother?”

  “Good grief. No.” Think, Willow. Think. “He’s got a lot of work. I know he’s behind.”

  She took a drink. “I’ll be able to help ease that stress.” She teetered, sloshing her drink. “I need a refill. Be right back.”

  I sighed. Rosie was drunk. She hid it well until she tried to walk. Time to abort this conversation. Quickly, I cleaned up my dinner and went to my room. I closed and locked the door. Carson slept peacefully with his eyelashes fanned across his face. Always on the go, he never got much sleep. Rosie had started tapping on his window while he unpacked. He’d been camped out in my room ever since. When I told him about the blue nightie with the feathers, he was going to barricade himself in my room. We were officially roomies for the weekend.

  I settled on the couch near the bay windows where the blinds had been shut in case Rosie stooped lower than expected. Carson had insisted. Soon, if she kept drinking at the pace she had been, Carson would be the least of her concerns.

  The folder Mildred had found caught my eye. It stuck out of my bag, where I’d packed it at the last minute in case I had some free time.

  Alex hadn’t kept much in the office. I hadn’t noticed until I packed up his stuff, but he’d been like a guest in the house. I always thought he was a minimalist, but he was actually only passing through my life and using me.

  Asshole.

  I would’ve given him the two million to avoid the heartache he caused. It worried me that he’d ruined me for any future man.

  Flipping open the file, I saw one sheet from a bank statement. It was missing all the other pages—almost like it was left on accident. I skimmed through it. Each week, money transferred from his account to Apple Blossom in the amount of one thousand dollars.

  Above it were transactions from ten of my accounts for one hundred dollars. I opened up my bank account app on my phone and pulled up one of the accounts, finding the withdrawal last month. I dug into my settings.

  Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  An automatic withdrawal had been setup on this account to send the amount from me to Alex every other week. I pulled up another account.

  Motherfucker.

  Same thing happened on alternating weeks. I pulled up another. It was like the first account. Such a small amount would never be brought to my attention. I knew my accountant would think I was giving Alex money.

  He stole from me? Why was I surprised?

  I put the paper to the side, making a mental note to research the school, and shut off the automatic deposits.

  The next paper listed numbers with letters beside them. Some sort of code… maybe coordinates… I wasn’t sure.

  Behind were printouts of a hotel in Manhattan with another set of numbers and letters. I recognized this hotel. It was posh like the Whitmore chain.

  Cryptic.

  I took a picture and sent it to Tack, furious at the depth Alex went to.

  Me: Found this in Alex’s stuff. He stole from me also.

  Tack: Can you send me those details?

  After taking more pictures, I sent what I had.

  Me: Does that code make sense?

  Tack: Not yet. Is it safe to call?

  Me: No, Carson’s asleep. He’s hiding out from a crazy friend in my room. I’m on the couch going through the papers.

  I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to clarify why Carson was in the same room, but I did.

  Tack: Call me tomorrow when you can. I’ll make myself available.

  Me: Did something bad happen?

  Tack: No, I just need to hear your voice.

  There it was again… raw emotional honesty. It was my turn to give him the same.

  Me: I’m scared you’re playing me like Alex did.

  Tack: I wish we could talk so you could hear the honesty in my voice. I’m not playing you. Only time will prove I’m telling the truth.

  Me: I like the sound of that. I’m going to go to sleep. Night, Tack.

  Tack: Night, Willow. Call me if you need anything.

  Me: I will.

  I tucked the phone away into the zipper part of my purse and straightened the papers. A small envelope fell onto the floor. Odd. I turned over the stack and noticed a paperclip on the last page. No wonder I hadn’t seen it. With shaky hands, I opened the envelope and took out a photograph of a little boy, no more than five or six years old, sitting on Alex’s lap. Alex’s eyes were bright as he lovingly held onto what had to be his son, who was the spitting image of him.

  Hurt spiraled through me as his words replayed in my head.

  “I don’t want any fucking kids, Willow. Get it through your damned head. I don’t care what I said before. I’m in this mess because I focused everything I had on YOU!”

  My body flinched, hearing the words as if they’d been spoken out loud. Life had been terrible.

  I brought the picture closer, scrutinizing every detail.

  Alex loved his son. It was obvious.

  He’d wanted kids… just not with me. If only I had the ability to turn back time. Make different decisions.

  Regrets were po
isonous to the soul. I hoped I was able to move past them and not be too damaged.

  I flipped the picture over, noting a woman’s elegant script across the back—probably Candy’s.

  I’d reached my breaking point, and now I was done. After putting everything away, I stood and walked toward the door.

  It was the final blow.

  I needed a drink.

  A strong one.

  Laughter subsided. I wasn’t sure what made me laugh so hard, but it had been funny. The world swayed as I sat on a lawn chair.

  My mind was fuzzy. Any negative thoughts weren’t able to penetrate the thick haze I’d surrounded myself with.

  Alcohol was my friend. My best friend. The most wonderful friend in the whole wide world.

  “I wuv you, Willow.”

  I glanced over to Marissa. “I wuv you, too.”

  She leaned over, beer sloshing about. “Remember the time Carson and Clay hauled us out of the bar? It was so much fun dancing. We were drunk like we are now.”

  I believed I’d been drunker than Marissa. I snorted. We’d just turned twenty-one. Hard to believe it was three years ago.

  “Party pooper shamooper.” A giggle escaped at my new word. Marissa laughed, too. Alcohol was her best friend tonight, too. I think alcohol was a lot of people’s friend tonight.

  The alcohol no longer burned as I took a sip. “I going get anoder beer.”

  I stood and swayed. Clay looked at me. He was drunk, too. “You good, Willow? Need any help?”

  “Nopers. I gotz this.”

  Putting one foot in front of the other, I took baby steps and started clapping. It was a good idea.

  “Why the hell are you clapping, Willow?” Marissa called.

  I made a shushing sound with my finger to my lips. “It’s my tracking device. You need to know wherez I am.”

  “I wuv you, Willow.”

  “I wuv you, too, Marissa.”

  So much love. I loved everyone. The world was a better place with alcohol. Mom was wrong. Ice cream was not the solver of world problems. Alcohol was.

  Almost to the cooler, I stopped and announced, “I needz to pee. I’m going to clapz my way to the poolz house instead of anoder beer.”

  Clap.

  Walk.

  Clap.

  Walk.

  Giggle.

  This was funny. Marissa laughed, too.

  Clap.

  Walk.

  Clap.

  Walk.

  Giggle.

  I died laughing.

  Stopping, I squinted back over to the campfire and yelled, “Can you guyz track me?”

  “Got you loud and clear!” Marissa stood and then fell over into Clay’s lap.

  Now, that was funny. I need to pee. Focus, Willow. Bathroom. I was almost there. The door was close.

  Clap.

  Walk.

  Clap.

  Walk.

  Giggle.

  “I’m herez! Goingz to pee!”

  “Okay, pee!”

  The room was darker, and I felt my way to the bathroom. I couldn’t find the light switch at first. After taking care of business, I left the bathroom. Wow, the dark outline of the room swayed. Maybe another beer was a bad idea. Yeah, it was.

  I stumbled, and strong arms caught me. “I got you, Willow.”

  Happiness filled me. Everyone was my friend. I screeched. “It’s you! Tack! My best friend phonez buddy. I love you! I love everyonez tonight.”

  “Shh…” The voice vibrated through me.

  Oh la la. I hoped Tack was a hottie. In my dreams, he reached hot factor nine. It was going to be very disappointing if he wasn’t. “You have a sexy whisper.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  I put my fingers in front of my face and lost count a few times. “A bunches.”

  “Fuck, Willow. You shouldn’t.”

  I held my finger to my lips. “No party poopersshamoopers allowed. Why are you whispering?”

  He mumbled something, and I stumbled as I took a step toward the door. “You need to lie down, Willow.”

  “No, I wantz to drink anoder beer.” Maybe beer was a good idea.

  My feet left the floor, and I nuzzled into his chest. Oh, he was warm. Comfy. Lips touched my forehead.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Stay strong for just a little longer. I nearly have it all figured out. What happened since we texted?”

  “I sawz a pictures of hiz son. Alex blamed me for all those deaths.” My head lolled to the side. No more bad thoughts. My vision was fuzzy. “Are you old?”

  “Old?”

  I snuggled into his chest again. “Yeah, I hope you’re not old. That’d be yuuuck! Ewww to the you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I fantasize about you.” I wasn’t even ashamed as I sniffed him, making a big production. “And you smellz good. Fresh.”

  He chuckled.

  “Are you cute?”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  A wave of nausea hit. “I need to lie down. I feel sick.”

  We moved a little. Or maybe the room was spinning. I wasn’t sure. “There’s a couch here. I’ll stay with you until someone comes.”

  “Okay.”

  My eyes were already sliding shut. I felt a pressure on my wrist, and then I found the soft couch. Was he taking my pulse? Lips came to my ear. “I won’t leave you.”

  “Stay.”

  Tack was here, and as my eyes closed, I knew I would be safe.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  “Make it stop. Please.” I was in agony as I pleaded with someone, anyone, to make the pounding cease.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  I groaned. “I’m dying. Stop.”

  Squinting my eyes open, I saw Carson asleep on the couch that was pulled up alongside the bed.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  Another groan emitted.

  Carson stirred. “How are you feeling? You had a rough night.”

  My eyes closed as I muttered, “I feel terrible. What happened?”

  Pound.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  The pounding was inside my head. Shit.

  The vibrations from Carson’s voice had me wincing. “I found you on the couch in the pool house when I woke up. You scared me shitless with how out of it you were. Everyone was wasted. No one knew where you had gone.”

  A hand touched my shoulder. “Take this aspirin and drink some orange juice. It’ll help.” I shot up and then grabbed my head in pain.

  “Fuck!” My outburst caused the ache to worsen.

  Orange juice and two white pills were put in front of me. “Here you go. What do you remember?”

  I took the aspirin and prayed they helped sooner rather than later. The orange juice burned going down. I closed my eyes as flashes from last night came back. “I found pictures of Alex’s son. After that, I went on a mind-numbing mission. Not my finest moment.” Being upright hurt, so I lay back down. “I haven’t been that drunk since my birthday our sophomore year in college. Never again. I don’t feel good.”

  He patted my back. “Get some sleep. I’m going to work for a bit. You’ll feel better after you rest. If Rosie mentions a Francesca, just go with it.”

  “I will. Sorry your wingman is out of commission. Is Francesca your made-up girlfriend?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been on a few dates with one.” Later, I’d ask him more about this Francesca chick. The throbbing in my head kept me from diving too deep on any subject. We’d talk later. My eyes closed but opened again when I felt a gentle pat on my back. “I’ll think of some sacrifice you’ll have to make on the trip since you’re slacking on your wingman duties.”

  I loudly groaned at the displeasing thought.

  I heard him chuckling as the door closed. Bastard.

  Hours later, I woke up to a plate of crackers
and more orange juice. I caught a glimpse of a note.

  I was glad Carson took time to hang with the guys. It gave me some time to piece myself together after last night.

  I headed to the bathroom to I clean up, which helped me feel more human. I was never ever drinking like that again. I hated that I let Alex’s double life bring me down to a place where I turned to alcohol. Normally, I was more in control, but for some reason, seeing the picture of the boy sent me over the edge.

  As I was combing out my hair, a knock stopped me. The door opened before I said a word. It was Rosie.

  “Hey, Willow. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Almost human.”

  “Good. Do you have a second?” I nodded. “How serious are Carson and Francesca?”

  No wonder Carson felt safe to leave his hideout. “I’m not sure. I haven’t had time to talk about her much with everything that’s been going on.”

  “That makes sense.” My burner phone dinged from within my purse. “I’ll let you get that. I’m going to go lay out by the pool and wait for the boys. Mitchell went with them, too.”

  Poor Mitchell. He was in for the Rosie ass-grabbing next. Hopefully he was dating someone. She bounced out of the room without a care in the world. Sometimes I needed a word stronger than odd for her. I was never able to figure it out, but we weren’t close.

  Grabbing my purse, I dug out my phone and sat on the couch Carson had moved next to the bed last night. I remembered being sick.

  Ugh. Poor Carson.

  Tack: How are you feeling?

  Me: Better now that I’ve got some food and aspirin in me.

  Tack: Do you remember last night?

  I remembered he’d been there. Until now, I hadn’t thought about it. Oh my gosh. I nuzzled him. I said I fantasized about him.

  Another text came in from Carson.

  Carson: How’s it going?

  Me: Better. I’m feeling human. Thanks for the crackers. The Francesca thing worked. Rosie has her eyes set on Mitchell now.