Pieces of Lies

by Angela Richardson

  I still had a hard time making sense of what I had just learned about Clint. I felt that our whole relationship was built from a lie and not from the deep emotional and physical connection that I believed we had the moment we met. Now, in my semi-surreal mental state, I was entertaining thoughts that maybe I was set up right from the beginning. Had Clint staged that scene with Josh at that de-virgin party to weasel his way into getting close to me right from that first night? Had the Lappell known who I was since the moment I had arrived at McLaren?

  The more I analyzed the possibilities, the more confused I felt. Something told me I was looking for holes that weren’t there, but another part of me, one that knew better from experience with these types of groups, told me that anything was possible and the person you trust most, can easily become the one who turns out to be the biggest fake of all, stabbing you in the back.

  I was finding it increasingly difficult to separate my past from my present when trying to figure out the real truths in the situation. I wanted to believe so desperately that Clint and I did not come together because of some order given to him by the Lappell.

  The darkness in me was awake and alive, growing fast. It was a version of me that embodied a manic-like state. Josh had seen this side of me many times in high school during a period in my life when I was only starting to really see and understand the violent and disturbing nature of my father’s activities.

  When I acted out in high school, I was unpredictable, highly emotional and even crazy aggressive. My father controlled my behavior by trying to control me, limiting my social life and boyfriends and watching me like a hawk, monitoring my every movement. I knew he was so extreme because he feared for my safety, but it took many years, and Josh, to help me find a calmness and peace within myself and find different ways to vent when I felt myself slipping into that black hole.

  Therapy was useless. I already knew where my problems stemmed from. I didn’t need a therapist to tell me my issues were from a dead mother and a mobster father. What I needed was an outlet for my mind, a way to deal with myself when I wanted to act out. So I turned to other things, like my art, and it was also Josh who helped me discover how beneficial firing guns could be in getting all my frustrations out.

  One day when I was fifteen, Josh dragged me to an abandoned warehouse, put a gun in my hand and said, “If you don’t confront your fears Norah, you’ll never overcome them.” When I fired that gun for the first time, my mind became clear and peaceful. I felt strong and in control, and I never looked back. To this day, I never asked Josh where he got that gun from. It never once came up.

  I stared at Josh across the lounge room that he was busy tidying up. He turned his head briefly and smiled at me, the same smile he gave me the first day I met him. I hadn’t thought about that day in a long time.

  When I was sent to Dalgetty Private School in New York, it was after a much publicized court case, detailing the horrific deaths of some of the city’s biggest organized crime leaders and their links with crooked politicians. My father being the one who orchestrated the whole thing.

  In the end, there was not enough evidence to put my father away, although it was highly suspected that his influence travelled up and through the jury members, lawyers, and even the judge.

  Pictures of my father, his associates and family, me included, were splashed in news reports and articles during the media frenzy surrounding the court case.

  Even in a place like Dalgetty, where rich kids were not the least bit phased by celebrity and scandal, they shied away from me. It didn’t upset me though; I was more than capable handling schooling on my own. I wasn’t a girl who became a weeping mess or fell to pieces at the very hint of drama, but those first few days walking the school halls were hard, even for a thirteen year old who could hold her own. The media had really played up the gruesome details and strength of my father’s organization and we were all perceived as real genuine terrors. I hated to think how my father got me enrolled in such a prestigious school in the first place.

  The snotty girls at Dalgetty didn’t snicker; they dared not upset me. They just turned and whispered when I approached, not making eye contact at all. The boys would smile or stare at me curiously, but like the girls, they kept their distance. It wasn’t until my third day at school when Josh Hollows approached me.

  I was sitting on the top of the stairs in a long stretch of hallway, frantically going through my oversized book bag, tossing books out and huffing as I did. My head was down and my long black hair had fallen all around my face, hiding me like a curtain.

  “Find what you are looking for?” I was so shocked by the question, which appeared out of nowhere, that I lifted my head and shook my face so I could emerge from my hair blanket and take in the amused voice.

  Green eyes, sandy brown hair, and a sweet boyish grin were staring back at me. I stared up at him, already suspicious as to why he suddenly decided to come up and talk to me when the entire school couldn’t even be in the same breathing space. I watched his face as he looked at mine and I noticed immediately his breath hitching up in his mouth.

  “What? What are you staring at?” His eyes had turned all doe-eyed and I couldn’t help but soften just from their innocence.

  “You have the face of an angel,” the boy said it as if he was in a trance. I swept my hair back, put my hand back down into my book bag and then began punching it a few times in frustration.

  “But clearly you don’t have the temperament of one,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I glared at him.“You still standing there? What do you want? I’m not going to answer any questions about my father if you’ve come to ask, and if you have, you must be really fucking stupid.” I continued to wail into the leather, trying to ignore his presence that towered above me.

  “A mouth like yours shouldn’t be saying such ugly words you know.”

  The boy leaned up against the wall near the stairs, waiting for me to compose myself. He stared down at me again with that boyish grin and his green eyes flickered in amusement. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Look I’m sorry. You are just being nice and I’m being a bitch. I can’t find my math textbook and I really don’t want to have to ask to share in class. I can’t bare another freak out from someone because they think I’m going to pull a gun on them or something.” He moved off the wall and towards me, and then bent down to a leather-style knapsack on the floor. I hadn’t even noticed he had it until that moment.

  “Here take mine, I don’t have that class till after lunch,” he said, reaching in and drawing out the thick brick-like textbook. I melted immediately at his gesture and dragged my body off the floor so I could stand face to face to him and take hold of the book. “I… ah… oh… ummm… ah, thanks, ah…” I stammered with my words.

  “Josh, my name is Josh.” I smiled back at him for the first time.

  This made his grin even bigger, “And you are Le,”

  “I prefer Norah please.” Our fingers touched momentarily as I took the book from his hand, and I felt oddly calm. I trusted this boy already.

  “Norah it is then.” There was a comfortable silence that passed between us before I spoke up.

  “So what makes you different from everyone else? Why aren’t you scared to talk to me?” I studied his face for a reaction.

  “I just had to talk to you,” he stated.

  “And why is that, Josh?”

  “Don’t get me wrong; all the boys here in school want to talk to you Norah…” He trailed off, “Even though you’re a little, controversial.” I leaned my hip against the wall listening to his words, “And you really are forgetful with your books.” My head twitched at that last part and I gave him an odd look.

  “Huh, what do you mean?” He reached down into his knapsack again and pulled out my sketchbook, my private drawing sketchbook. I snatched it from his grasp the moment I recognized it.

  “Where did you get this? I’ve been looking,”

  “You left it in the ca
feteria yesterday just after lunch. I was watching you and when you took off, I saw it had fallen off the table you were sitting at. You mustn’t have realized. By the time I went over and picked it up, you were gone. This is the first chance I’ve had to return it to you.”

  I kept the pad plastered to my chest as I studied him. “You were watching me?”

  “Oh yeah, sorry, it’s kind of hard not to watch you. You’re so…” and he trailed off again.

  Still grasping my sketchbook, knowing what was in it, I met his gaze again, “Did you, I mean, look inside?”

  “Yes,” he breathed heavily. “Your drawings are intense. You are really talented. I stared at it for hours.”

  I swallowed. I had never shown anyone my sketches, and now by accident, this boy had seen into my soul.

  “That woman you draw… is that uh, your… ummm…”

  “It’s my mother, yes. But I’ve only ever seen photos of her so it’s more my interpretation as well.”

  “She looks like you.”

  I looked away, completely taken back. This conversation was a lot more personal than any conversation I had had to date, yet I didn’t want to pull away from having it. There was something about him that I was drawn to and I didn’t want to hide from him.

  “Anyway, I’m uhhh sorry I didn’t return it sooner. It was kind of hard to let go of.” His eyes darted, his face went red, embarrassed. “I don’t know why I just said that,” he stuttered and I smiled at his awkwardness. “I just wanted to get to know that girl with that sketchbook. She seems really amazing.”

  I felt touched. This boy had seen the real me and in that moment, all I wanted to do was step forward and kiss him. Yes, when I first met Josh Hollows I wanted to kiss him, but I knew I could not subject him to the scrutiny with my father that would follow.

  “I’m not allowed to have boyfriends Josh.” His dreamy green eyes expanded a little as I used the word ‘boyfriend’.

  Did I just make a haste assumption?

  “Then I’ll just have to settle for friends then,” he declared and held out his hand for an official handshake. I did love his approach, his compromise, his confidence. How could I say no? I didn’t of course. I shook his hand and punched his shoulder playfully. After that day we became inseparable. We just clicked, bonded, saw eye to eye. It worked. Our friendship was easy because we complemented each other.

  Josh was there for me through all of it, and now he was back again, picking me up as I fell down. He was the only thing keeping me from taking the gun I kept in a locked box under my bed and paying Clint a visit.

  By the third day, Josh was beginning to get restless. I knew he wanted to leave and go and deal with the Lappell. “Norah, I’ve been here for days and as much as I want to be here for you, I should go and sort out this mess of a situation.”

  I ran over to him as he began to gather his things and grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t go, please. I need you Josh. Stay with me.” I stroked his cheek which was hot and his eyes looked at me with desire as I expressed my need for him. He came towards me, but then stopped and started to pull away, walking towards the door.

  “No Josh, no.” I was desperate for him to stay, desperate for his comfort and his friendship. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I was terrified of my emotions and what I would do if I began to think about Clint. I knew where the darkness would take me.

  “Norah, I will come back as soon as I can. I just can’t leave this alone. I need to ensure your identity is secure and I need to figure out how I will get the Lappell off your back. I need to go.”

  My heart pounded as the room began to close in all around me. All I could see was hurt that I would have to endure alone and I felt a shudder from the mountain of rage that was about to erupt from within. In a moment of desperation I blurted out, “Kiss me Josh.”

  He stopped in the doorway and stilled. His back was to me. I said it again but with ferocious need, “Kiss me, please.” Josh turned to face me, his chest moving back and forth rapidly as he breathed. He swallowed, seeing the desperation in my eyes.

  “I know you don’t want me to go, but I have to. I have to sort this out. I am doing this for you Norah.”

  I couldn’t bare it, I couldn’t have him leave. “Will you at least kiss me before you go Josh?” I pleaded. I was sure he would stay once I had my arms around him. It was a desperate plan from a desperate girl.

  Josh watched me as I shuffled towards him.

  “You want me to kiss you, now?” he asked, not taking his eyes off my movements. My lips formed a hard line as I composed my speech.

  “More than anything. Kiss me Josh. From the moment I met you and you gave me back my sketchbook I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

  His eyes expanded in shock at hearing that. “You have?” This was clearly news to Josh.

  “I didn’t want my father to take you away from me, so I never kissed you. You were too important to me in high school, you still are.”

  He gasped a little, “You wanted me too?”

  I stilled, met his eyes, and nodded.

  He dropped his keys and they hit the floor. The metal clang echoed into the silence of the room as Josh looked to my eyes and then to my lips. He strode towards me so fast that I almost fell backwards from the speed of his movement. His arms flew round me, wrapping me, taking me into his body and into his chest. His mouth found mine immediately with passion, with need, an intensity I had never known, as if years and years of want made up this one monumental moment. He embraced my request and was giving it everything he could. I kissed him back with equal force, equal need. My mind spun like a whirlwind as I allowed my body to respond to his kiss. He pulled me closer as our tongues met, intertwining, becoming one, deeper and deeper the kiss got, until I started to feel light headed from lack of breath. It didn’t stop though; his hands ran down my back and then up into my hair. He switched the position of his head so he could take a tiny breath and returned to my mouth for a second deep kiss. He lifted my body up as he kissed me again, my breasts pushed up against his chest. I opened my eyes as I felt his arousal on my hip. He opened his eyes too, knowing that the moment was escalating into something more. Josh stopped instantly and took a step back.

  We were both panting hard. Would I let it go further? I wasn’t sure. In that precious and surreal minute I wanted Josh. I wanted to feel him in me; I wanted to know how our bodies would feel together as one and if sex would be as perfect and intense as that amazing kiss. We both saw it in each other’s eyes. We could take that plunge, we were ready. Josh walked towards me, about to take me into his arms again but a tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek. Josh saw it and retreated from me. He shook his head.

  “What are you doing?” I said confused, “I thought you wanted me?” He breathed heavily and inched forward but stopped himself.

  “I do want you Norah, more than anything I have ever wanted in my whole life, but not like this.” He closed his eyes and opened them, his breathing slowing. “You’ve been through a lot, and things with Clint are still raw. It would be wrong of me to do this while you are so emotional.”

  I slumped to the ground, he was completely right. I was trying to use him to hide. He crouched down next to me. “Norah, it’s taking everything in me right now to leave you. I’ve wanted this since high school. That kiss; it was everything I knew it would be, but I want you to want me when you are not in love with Clint.” I raised my head, and he kissed my forehead, “It’s alright Norah; I will figure this out, OK.” I nodded. I wasn’t thinking straight at all. “I’ll try and get back to you as soon as I can. Just stay here.”

  His lips stayed on my forehead for a long time before he left.

  Chapter 14

  Closed Eyes

  My face was pressed against the cold cement and a gun was firmly planted at my temple on the other side. My mouth was gagged with horrible oil stained material and my hands were bound with rope behind my back. I was whimpering as the steel metal of the gun contin
ued to push into my skin. Weak from lack of food and water, it was hard for me to keep my eyes open without passing out altogether.

  “What are we waiting for?” A deep rough voice came from the direction of the gun pointed at my head. “Roberto wants to do it alright. That will send a message.”

  I tried to scream but the material already in my mouth seemed to lodge itself further backwards and down my throat, stifling any sound I tried to make. I quivered and then felt a sharp twinge of pain to my stomach as a heavy boot kicked into my body. “Quiet you, or we’ll do it now.”

  I tried to gasp for more air as the pain of the kick moved through my body, forcing me to squirm, but I could only curl up tighter in a fetal position, tears springing from my eyes from the searing pain in my abdomen.

  “Where the fuck is Don?” There were at least three or four different voices around me, but from my position I could only see a pair of terribly scuffed men’s boots in front of me and the other voices seemed to be coming from behind my back, towards the front of the room. I was sure that the person with those boots was also the one holding the gun to my head. I heard the sound of a cell phone ring. Voices quietened as another voice answered the cell, “Yes we have her. Come and do it now. This will teach those fuckers who took out Raymond.”

  I closed my eyes tightly as more tears escaped down my face as I listened to these men talk about my imminent death. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to scream, but all I could think about was all the things I would never got a chance to do. I was never going to get married, have children, become an artist or leave New York. I was going to die with a bullet to my head on this cold cement floor, having done nothing to deserve this type of death. How cruel was life to first take my mother and then do this to me. Fuck you life! Damn it to hell!