The Lying Game

by Miller, Mickey

  Dalila shook her head. “Not your fault. That was a fantastic weekend.”

  “Aside from the fact that you happened to meet the craziest, most psychopathic liar that the world has ever known.”

  “And the best looking. And most charming. It’s my fault I couldn’t see through that.”

  “No, honey,” my mom says. “It’s not your fault. How on Earth could you have known? You’ve always thought the best of people.”

  Mrs. Flynn’s sobs grow louder. “I’ve never done that. I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life! I’ve never even thought about it! And then, the one time I do it, poof!”

  “Do you feel safe? You know you can stay here with Hank and me.” My mom raises her eyes to the sky. “God knows we have our own problems, though. Since the tool and dye factory closed down, Hank hasn’t been the same.”

  “Still drinking?”

  “Too much. He’s so up and down. He’ll make it a few days sober and be on an upswing, maybe even get a temp job. Then after a few days he’ll get taken off of his job and start drinking again. He’s just been bouncing from construction company to company now. He’s not the same. I’m afraid it could rub off on Lacy and Eliza.

  A silence overcomes the two of them. For the first time, I see my mom and Mrs. Flynn as fallible humans. My mind is totally blown.

  I sit down on the couch, trying to process all of this new information. My heart beats a mile a minute. I start to cry. Not like a sob—more of a glazed over, stoic bawling. A cab comes and picks up Mrs. Flynn, and when my mom came into the house, she slaps her hand over her heart, shocked at seeing me in tears on the couch.”

  “Honey,” she gasps. “What are you doing awake?”

  A tear rolls down my cheek. “Mom, is Carter’s father alive?”

  She sits down on the couch next to me, her expression shaky, her eyes glossed over. “It’s complicated, honey,” she says as she takes my hand.

  “No it’s not,” I said, wiping a tear away. “Is Carter’s father still living? Is his heart still beating? It’s a yes or no question.”

  My mom’s voice trembled as she spoke.

  “Honey. You’re young. But life can sometimes get very complicated when you’re older. Carter’s father was not a nice man. For all our purposes, he’s dead.”

  “But his heart is still alive and beating. In the world,” I counter.

  With tears in her eyes, my mom nods. “Honey, some day I’ll explain all of this to you. But right now, I have to ask you something very important. I know this is all probably very shocking to you to find out. But there are some things that are between mother and son. And you can’t tell Carter about this. It’s up to his mom. Can you keep that secret?”

  “I don’t like keeping secrets. I’m not good at it.”

  “Please, honey. As much as I know you like Carter, it’s not our place.”

  “Not our ‘place?’ What is that supposed to mean?”

  She swallows, then puts her hand on my shoulder. “Honey, when Carter turns eighteen, he’ll have the option to know all of this. Until then, it’s none of our business.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Okay,” I agreed reluctantly.

  “Good girl,” she said, caressing my hand. “Do you have any other questions?”

  “Where is Carter’s father? Is he going to hurt Carter?”

  She heaved a deep sigh. “Carter’s father lives in a town far away from here. For a long time, he didn’t know that Carter was alive. But now that he knows, he doesn’t like it. He won’t hurt Carter though, I promise.”

  “So why did Carter’s mom get scared tonight, all of the sudden?”

  “Like I said, honey, it’s complicated. And there are times in life where ignorance is bliss.”

  “Ignorance is bliss,” I repeat. Swallowing, I vow not to tell him.

  * * *

  I see Carter a few times later that week, passing him in the gym when I’m doing a summer dance camp for kids, and he’s running the basketball camp. He notices I’m acting weird and he asks me about it.

  “What’s the matter, Laces?” he asks, grinning widely. It’s a true grin, from eye to eye, and I wonder if maybe my mom is right. Maybe Carter is better off not knowing. “Forget how to tie your shoes again? You know, I can help you with that.”

  “Yeah,” I say sheepishly. “No actually, I was wondering if you want to get some ice cream after camp is over today? It’s so hot out.”

  “Hell yeah, you know I do. Gotta run. Catch you after.”

  Thinking it’s just a little white lie,

  I swallow the truth, and ignore my instinct to tell him.

  Little do I know how badly that decision will come back to haunt me.

  * * *

  Next summer, just after Carter’s eighteenth birthday, we’d played basketball in the park. He asks if I would go home with him to chat for a little while.

  When we got back to his house, I can see his eyes gloss over.

  “Lacy. I just found out something wild.”

  “What’s that?” I croak, hoping against hope that somehow, my prediction that he’s thinking about his father is wrong.

  “My dad didn’t die by suffocation of a pillow. He’s alive. My mom told me yesterday.”

  Carter brings his eyes to mine. He looks like he just saw a ghost.

  “Oh,” is all I can say.

  I want so badly to make the pain in his heart go away.

  “Oh?” he raises an eyebrow.

  “I mean, uh, that’s crazy,” I say, sounding insincere.

  Taking a step back, he gives me an ugly, mean look. “Lacy, that is a weird as fuck reaction to some very personal information I just told you. What’s going on with you.”

  He has black rings under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept for days. My mom’s words ring in my ear.

  Ignorance is bliss.

  Pandora’s box has been opened, and it’s not coming back. “I know he’s alive,” I whisper.

  “What?!”

  “I heard from your mom last summer,” I admit.

  His eyes practically bulge out of his head.

  “You fucking knew? You knew and didn’t tell me!”

  I break down, fully sobbing. “I thought ignorance was bliss. I figured this was between you and your mother!”

  “You didn’t think, I would like to fucking know that my own father was alive?”

  I swallow, words escaping me. “Please, Carter. You know I care about you more than anyone.”

  The angst in his tone when he says the next words is palpable.

  “I thought I cared about you, too. I cared about you a lot more than you can even imagine. I thought wrong. Get away from me.”

  “Please, just give me a chance, Carter. Let me explain.”

  “You’ve explained enough,” he growls. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

  18

  Carter

  Present

  Chandler and I head upstairs to the top deck, fully armed with drinks. I, for one, can’t wait to get shitfaced and forget about life for a little while.

  Upstairs, we lean against the railing and let the warm Lake Michigan air brush across our faces.

  “It’s fucking hot,” Chandler says as he takes a swig of his beer.

  I nod. “Makes me think of warm summer nights in Blackwell.”

  “Blackwell is downstate, right?”

  “Yeah, pretty much dead center in the southern midwest. It’s a tiny town, though. You’ve probably never been there.”

  Chandler rakes a hand through his hair. “Your folks still live there?”

  “My mom does.”

  “Not your Dad?”

  I shake my head, and let a little huff escape me. “No.”

  Chandler furrows his brow. “Oh? Where’s he live?”

  I tense up. This isn’t a subject that I like talking about. Especially while I’m trying to process what just happened with Lacy.

  And even moreso when I’m
actually trying to have a good time.

  “No fucking clue,” I say simply.

  Chandler nods. “Seriously? I can relate.”

  I scoff. “Dude. Fuck you. You don’t know shit about me. You can’t relate.” My blood boils. Chandler may be a good teammate and friend, but he doesn’t know shit about my life.

  Growing up, I believed my father was dead, only to learn when I was eighteen that he was very much alive. And that he didn’t want anything to do with me. I was his bastard baby.

  “Fuck me? Dude, you don’t know shit about me,” he replies firmly with an icy cold glare, the moonlight highlighting his profile.

  I tense my jaw, and stand up, realizing he’s right. Chandler could have an absentee father just like me for all I know.

  He stands, and we lock eyes. We both take sips of our beers, tension thick in the air like there’s a Jell-o mold of it all around us.

  “Do yourself a favor. Don’t ask about my father again,” I growl.

  Chandler smirks. “Alright, pretty boy. Whatever you say. I don’t want to get your panties in a bunch. Seems like you’ve got some unaddressed shit there, though.”

  I grab him by the collar. He puts his hand over my wrist. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me,” I growl.

  We stare into each others’ eyes, neither of us backing down. We’re a similar height. Lean build. I look down on his hand.

  “Touch you? You touched me first. And you want to punch me?” Chandler baits. “Go ahead. But I can tell it’s not me that you’re mad at. You don’t trust me? That’s fine. You have no reason to. I’ll just tell you my story and you tell me if you think it’s bullshit.”

  I let go, trying to calm myself and listen.

  “Two years ago, I was playing ball in Europe, sleeping with basketball groupies left and right. Amy came to Barcelona on a chance visit. She helped me realize I’d never even met my own father. So I finally found him. He was living in squalor and filth. A total loser. I left his house and vowed never to speak to him again. And I haven’t. Because fuck him. And he had control over me until I met him. I’m getting married to Amy this summer—as you know—and I couldn’t be fucking happier. I wasn’t going to let that fucker affect my life any more than he already had.”

  I clench my jaw listening to Chandler’s monologue.

  I let my shoulders drop a little, and let go. “I didn’t know all that.”

  “Because I don’t like talking about it. Probably less than you do, actually.”

  I rake a hand through my hair, a brick forming in my stomach. “Let’s not talk about this right now, man.”

  “Right,” Chandler says. “Let’s talk about how you banged Lacy.”

  “It was unexpected.”

  “Ha! I fucking knew it. Got ya,” he smiles.

  “Motherfucker. Not a fucking word to anyone,” I say, poking him in the chest.

  Just then, Amy approaches. “Hey you two! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  “Hey baby.” Chandler wraps her up for a big hug and a kiss.

  “You guys are gross.”

  “Aww. Is Carter jealous, baby?” Amy giggles into Chandler’s chest, then whispers something into his ear.

  “What’s that?” Chandler says in an exaggeratedly loud voice. “You want to fuck on the yacht tonight?”

  She punches his chest. “Not so loud. Besides. I meant later. Right now, the birthday girl just invited us to play some truth or dare with her boyfriend.”

  Chandler spits out his drink. “Did you just say . . . Lacy’s boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. With that guy Lance. Honestly, I thought he was gay, but apparently he’s not! And apparently they are dating. Did you know that, Carter?”

  Chandler shoots me a wide-eyed glance.

  I rub my head. Was my intel false that Lance was gay?

  Did I hook up with Lacy on the same boat as her boyfriend? Maybe he’s bisexual, and in an open relationship.

  I decide to play it cool. “Yeah. Of course I knew that. They’ve been over to my place a few times. They’re always working on new moves in my living room.”

  “Ohh, that’s so cute!” Amy giggles, rubbing Chandler’s shoulder.

  We head around to the other end of the deck, and see the crew of four sitting there. My heart drops to my feet when I see Lacy wrapped up in Lance’s arms.

  So she did have a boyfriend. She wasn’t lying. I swallow a hard lump in my throat.

  And it’s definitely not a lump of indifference.

  19

  Carter

  I stare at the four of them. Joseph, Lance, Davina, and Lacy.

  Their expressions are blank yet stressed, as if someone just killed a puppy.

  Chandler, Amy, and I take a seat around the table, my mind swimming with muddled thoughts.

  Now I feel a pang of guilt for sleeping with Lacy and ruining her relationship with this poor, happy guy who has no idea I was inside his girlfriend not one hour ago.

  She’ll never be able to be totally truthful with him again.

  “Oh good, you found them! We wanted to play some couples truth or dare,” Lacy says, brushing her hair behind her ear. “And we supposed we could invite you too, Carter.”

  I scratch my head. What the fuck is going on? Am I living in the twilight zone? I plaster a giant fake smile on my face. “Leo. Jacob. Good to see you again.”

  “I’m Lance, actually.”

  “And I’m Joseph. You seriously haven’t learned our names by now?”

  A smirk tugs at my lips.

  “Carter! Have you had too much to drink? Forgetting my boyfriend’s name?” Lacy flips her black hair in my direction and and gives me a positively devilish grin.

  The way she says ‘boyfriend’ sends a wave of chills over me. Maybe it’s time for me to stop fucking with their names.

  “You just don’t look like a Lance,” I shrug.

  Drinking down the rest of my beer in a few large swigs, I reach in the cooler under the table and grab another.

  “Whoa. There is beer in there?” Lance asks.

  “Yep. One of the secrets you only know if you own the yacht,” I wink.

  “Secret stash, nice.”

  “You like secrets, do you?” I say.

  Lance clears his throat. “What do you mean by that? Do you know something I don’t know?”

  “Here, have one,” I say, reaching in and grabbing a few.

  And I’m going to need it, watching Lance with his arm wrapped around Lacy.

  Davina’s long legs rest on top of Joseph’s thighs.

  I clench my fists as I watch the scene.

  “Davina, is this your—” I start.

  “Boyfriend? Yeah. Joseph moved here from New York. I guess we really put one over on you with that bit about him being gay, didn’t we?” she winks.

  My heart drops.

  “Oh. Yeah you did. Is that your thing, you like your girl to flirt with other guys and see how they react?”

  Joseph smiles, putting his arm around Davina. “It is. I guess you could say we like to get in a little . . . freaky. Can I ask you a question, Carter?”

  “Go ahead,” I say, rubbing my forearm.

  “Do you eat a lot of pineapple?”

  “It’s my favorite fruit. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugs. “No reason. Just curious. I’ve heard professional basketball players eat them.”

  I squint. “What the hell? I’ve never once heard that in my life. I mean pineapples are delicious, sure.

  “Did you know that when European explorers first encountered the fruit in the Americas, they called them ‘pineapples’ because of their resemblance to pine cones?”

  “Joseph, stop being so silly,” Davina says, sounding a little drunk.

  I turn to Amy and Chandler to see if they’re sensing something weird going on too, but they are making out.

  “So. Truth or dare. Let’s fucking play,” I say. “I’m pumped.”

  Lacy blinks a few times, appearing thrown o
ff by my intensity.

  “I’ll go with dare,” I continue. “Who’s asking me?”

  “I am,” Lance says. Slowly, he runs his eyes over me. “I dare you to take off your shirt, Mr. Pineapple.”

  I hammer on my drink. Hell, if they’re going to fuck with me, I might as well make things interesting. I smile broadly. “I’ll one up you. How about I dance around a little bit while I take it off? I’m sure the, uh, ladies would appreciate a little showtime.”

  “Yes,” Lance says, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sure the ladies would.”

  Lacy leans her head against Lance’s shoulder. I glare at them, then turn up the music.

  “Well, this escalated quickly,” Amy says as I do a little spin move and whip off my suit jacket.

  When I untie my black bow tie, and start to undo my white button-down shirt, I carefully note the expression on all of their faces.

  A smile surges through me. I have a perfect idea of what this entails.

  I twirl in a circle, busting my best hip shake as I take down the buttons. I especially note the faces of Davina and Lacy’s boyfriends.

  They’re fixated on me.

  Taking my shirt all the way off, I dance around Magic Mike style to a techno song that comes on. I swear, I see one of the guys’ cocks move in their pants.

  I squint at Lance. “Satisfied?”

  “Very,” he chokes out.

  “Your turn,” I say, turning to Lacy.

  She hesitates, and I take advantage of her brief hesitation to select for her.

  “I think you’ll take truth,” I say.

  “I think—”

  “You’ll take truth,” I reinforce, taking a swig of my drink.

  Everyone looks at me, a little awkwardly. Like I give a shit.

  She wants to put one over on me? Make me watch her with some other guy’s hands wrapped around her?

  “Did you or did you not fuck Larry—I mean Lance—in my house the other night?”

  They look at each other and hesitate, telling me all I need to know.