The Word of a Liar

by Beauchamp, Sally

  “Better not.” He warned as he sat next to her. His cold, wet arm grazed hers. “Once you step on the shore, the flies and mosquitos will attack.”

  “I guess I won’t then. Where’s Desi?” She ventured, looking at the shoreline.

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe she was here, but apparently not. She didn’t give you too much grief last night, did she?”

  “No.” Ellen looked at him. “Everyone has been really nice to me.”

  She wondered why she couldn’t stop feeling so nervous around this guy.

  “I owe you an apology, Mason. You were right. I was much safer with you and Mad Dog than if I had stayed at the car.” She turned away, pulling her knees to her chest. “And I’m sorry if I caused a problem between you and Desi.”

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Ellen. Last night must have been pretty wild for someone like you, and I know what Desi can be like.” He laughed. “You handled her well. When I left you with her and Dee, I wasn’t sure if you’d have all your hair when I got back.”

  “So you knew Desi was going to come after me the minute you left and you still did it?”

  Ellen arched her brows.

  “Oh!” she fumed, looking at the sky. “That was plain dirty, Mason Hackett. You’re going to burn in hell for that!” Ellen unsuccessfully tried to subdue a smile.

  “That’s not the only thing I’m going to burn in hell for, Ellen Abrams.”

  His voice, deep and sultry, made Ellen look. A seductive grin broke beneath the dark beard. She shivered. Mason’s hand brushed her thigh then moved slowly upward. Like a needle being injected into her vein, the potency of his touch traveled down her leg, curling her toes. Thought tumbled over thought. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t stop him. He removed his hand. She took a breath. He tugged on her chin, luring her eyes to his. Blue… blue satin… blue sapphires… blue flame… all there in his deadly eyes. His fingertips roved across her lips, cold but hot. His face drew closer. She closed her eyes, ready, eager to taste his kiss…. Her heart raced, pulse drowned out sound, waiting… waiting.

  She opened her eyes.

  He had slipped to the flat black rock below. Confused and embarrassed, she watched him reach for a tube tucked in his rear pocket. He twisted around, looking up at her.

  “I came out here to take a bath. I better stay here till I’m clean.”

  He faced forward. From her perch, she watched him lather the top of his shoulders and the back of his neck. She swallowed, clasping her legs together. She would give her soul to lather up his chest and parts down below.

  He sat down on the rock and tried to squeeze the soap on his hair, but the water kept moving him. Ellen slid down. Standing knee deep in water, she held out her hand. “Give me the soap. Hold on to the rock, and I’ll wash your hair.”

  “I have a better idea. Sit on my lap. You know, to do the job properly.” His mischievous grin suggested an ulterior motive.

  Ellen bit her bottom lip. This was it. Her one and only chance to touch this man. All she hoped for was that Desi wouldn’t show up and kill them both.

  “All right.”

  She giggled as she took the tube of soap and straddled his thighs. Cold water swirled around them. She avoided his eyes as she squirted shampoo in his hair and then tossed the tube up on the rocky ledge above them.

  Her fingers glided through his dark mane, combing his temples, working the gel into frothy suds. He leaned his head back as she stroked the top of his scalp and then ran her fingertips up the back of his neck and head. He lowered his chin to his chest, and she knew her breasts were mere inches from his scrutinizing eyes. The hard heat of Mason’s body made her skin sizzle. Hands trembling, she continued her massage until he looked up. She breathed heavily. Feeling dizzy, she dropped her soapy fingers into the cold water. “Better rinse, before it gets in your eyes.”

  Ellen knew she should stand, but she doubted her legs would keep her upright. His hands gripped her waist, and he lifted her as he stood. She hung on to the tops of his shoulders. He hoisted Ellen to her previous perch and then dived into the river. She watched him glide beneath the water, a trail of soap suds pursuing him. His head emerged and then he swam back to her.

  Climbing up on the rock, he sprawled out on his back. “I think this rock is more comfortable than the lawn chair I slept in last night.”

  She sat down, the sun’s heat warming her skin. “I thought you and Desi had a tent together.”

  Ellen looked down at her legs dangling over the rock.

  “We do. Let’s just say it was way too cold in there for me last night.”

  Ellen sighed. “I’m so sorry, Mason. Maybe I should go in case she comes down here and sees you with me.”

  “No.” He took her hand. “Stay here. It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since I found you.”

  A flash of white teeth appeared beneath his beard. He closed his eyes. Ellen combed her fingers through her wet hair, watching him.

  “Ever read the Leatherstocking Tales?” Mason asked. “They were my favorite books as a kid. Still are. Those and Louis L’Amour’s Sackett Series. Being out here makes me think of those stories.”

  Ellen smiled. “I only read The Last of the Mohicans because I had to as an assignment in junior high school. I hated it. However, I did like the movie with Daniel Day Lewis.”

  Mason lifted his head. “What kind of English teacher likes the movie better than the book?”

  “The kind that likes hot guys with long hair.” Ellen arched her brow.

  Mason laughed, stretching his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

  “Is that why you like being a biker?” Ellen asked, tracing a small fault line in the rock with her fingertip. “Does it make you feel like those men in the stories? Wild, adventurous, and free?

  “Maybe. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to have lived back then? Totally self-sufficient and constantly aware of your surroundings. Having to distinguish every sound of nature in order to survive.”

  Ellen shook her head. “I wouldn’t like it. Too many bugs and the constant worry of survival from one season to the next would terrify me.”

  He opened his eyes. “That’s what would make life so great. It would all come down to keeping you and your family alive. No extraneous stuff to get in the way of what’s really important.”

  Ellen looked at him with both amazement and shame for assuming he was incapable of such deep thought and doubting that he actually read classic literature. She laid back and turned on her belly, clasping her hands under her cheek, and let the sun warm her backside. The gentle purr of the river could easily lull her to sleep. They laid quietly for some time until Mason sat up.

  He pulled a long brittle blade of grass from the hump of the rock. He slid it between his fingers, like a tailor does to thread. His long black hair blew gently in the breeze. Specs of water still clung to his shoulders. He looked at her, squinting in the brightness.

  “I need to ask you something, Ellen.” He sighed and then chuckled softly. “Damn! This is harder than I thought.”

  Ellen’s heart thundered in her ears. What could he possibly be afraid to ask her? Was it something illegal? She suddenly needed a drink of water. The tightness in her throat was unbearable. She sat up, facing him.

  Mason crossed his legs Indian style and continued to play with the blade of grass. “Mad Dog is a decent guy. He’s been through hell and back, and I have a great respect for the man. I consider him a close friend, a brother.”

  He paused.

  “I want you to know that.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t want to get in the way of his happiness, but I’ve got to know something.”

  What is he fishing for? Ellen wondered. And what do I have to do with his friendship with Mad Dog? “What do you want to know?”

  Mason took a deep breath. “Last night… did the two of you… you know?” Mason’s eyes begged the question.<
br />
  “What business is that of yours?” Ellen asked, her ire rising.

  “Because I need to know if you feel different around me.”

  “Different?”

  “Yeah.” He exhaled. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

  He broke the blade of straw in two and then tossed it into the river.

  Ellen took a deep breath. She hadn’t imagined it. Mason felt that strange energy, too, but what did it matter? Nothing could come of it. He had to know she couldn’t and wouldn’t give him the answer he sought. How could she? He was with Desi. And for all he knew, she and Mad Dog had become lovers. If she told him the truth, would he betray his girlfriend and best friend? What kind of a man would do that? Certainly not one she would want to be involved with. Ellen swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean, Mason. I feel grateful to you.”

  He sighed, looking disgusted. “You feel it. I know you do. You wanted to kiss me. Your hands were trembling washing my hair.”

  Ellen stood, irritated by his pursuit of the subject. “The cold water made my hands tremble, not you.”

  He shook his head. “You’re lying.”

  Ellen folded her arms across her chest.

  “You certainly think a lot of yourself, Mason Hackett, but here’s the truth. You’ve been very kind to me and I appreciate that, but you and I… we’re not from the same place.”

  She pointed her thumb at her chest. “I’m a principal of a high school and a mother.”

  Then she pointed her finger at him. “You, sir, are a biker with a stripper girlfriend. Who, by the way, is probably looking for you. And I don’t want to be here when she finds you.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to find Mad Dog. I don’t want to miss the tow truck. No offense, but I can’t wait to get home.”

  Mason rose. His eyes narrowed into hostile enemy lines. “Your hands weren’t shaking because of the cold water. You feel something for me.”

  “You are an arrogant bastard! You and that bitch of a girlfriend are a perfect match!”

  Ellen turned away, slid down to the lower rock, and then submerged herself in the cold clutches of the river.

  Mason watched her swim to shore. Mad Dog stood on the river bank and helped her gather her things. They walked away. Mason laid down, folding his hands behind his head. The sun warmed his chest. He thought about Ellen’s sandals stowed away in his saddlebag and a smile crept across his jaw.

  CHAPTER ten

  The forlorn cry of a blues melody played from an old jukebox. The whine of the guitar drifted aimlessly like a lost child around the Ritz Tavern. Mason sat at the bar, twirling whiskey around the circumference of a rocks glass. The early evening sunlight glazed the small, narrow windows, underscoring the built-up grime and fingerprints. It cut sharp lines across the worn, gray linoleum. Tired, his wounds still sore, Mason couldn’t believe the rally had ended three days ago. It seemed like years had passed.

  Jack hadn’t called, and Mason wondered if Desi had ignored his warning and hooked up with the guy. It certainly appeared that way. He hadn’t heard from her either, but he wasn’t expecting to. Smiling, he thought about how he was going to miss that “you lucky bastard” stare guys flashed him when he had Desi draped on his arm. He gulped down the whiskey, picturing her green eyes. He’d miss her dancing, too, but he wouldn’t miss all the arguments about him being late, not calling, and not paying enough attention to her. Now he was free to do whatever he pleased. The price of freedom, he sighed. Too bad he couldn’t have both.

  “Need a refill, Rambo?” the bartender asked.

  “Yeah, Nick, make it another double.”

  Nick refilled his glass. “Mad Dog coming in tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I just stopped in before heading home.”

  Nick nodded and then moved away to wait on another customer.

  Mad Dog was probably with Ellen. Every time Mason thought about the two of them, a vise squeezed his chest. What kind of son-of-a-bitch am I to begrudge a brother his happiness?

  Mason had met Mad Dog a short time after his wife’s murder when Mason was a prospect for the Sons of Thunder. Mason witnessed drinking, drugs, and brawling consume the man. Many times Mason had to stop Mad Dog from pounding the shit out of a guy for some perceived offense. Up until a few months ago, Nick would call Mason to take Mad Dog home because he was too drunk to drive.

  One night after getting Mad Dog home, as Mason half-listened to Mad Dog’s drunken babble about finding his wife’s killer, Mad Dog broke down. “I miss her so much,” he sobbed, tears soaking his beard. “I want to die, Rambo. I want to be dead.”

  Sitting on the bed, Mad Dog looked up at Mason. His face had contorted in pain as he wailed, “I can’t do this… I can’t go on living without her!”

  He curled up on the bed like he was fending off blows and wept into his hands.

  It tore Mason up to see his tough, hard-assed brother reduced to such a grief-stricken condition. Mason sat on a chair, listening to Mad Dog’s pathetic cries as he waited for him to sleep. When he finally did, Mason combed the house for weapons, fearing Mad Dog would use them on himself. He stayed the night, dozing in a chair in Mad Dog’s bedroom. In the early morning hours, he was awakened by Mad Dog hollering out Gina’s name.

  “Mad Dog, it’s Rambo,” Mason called out in the darkness.

  Mad Dog sat up. “Rambo? Why are you here? Where’s Gina?”

  “She gone. Remember?” Mad Dog’s confusion brought tears to Mason’s eyes. “Gina’s dead, brother.”

  “But she was standing by the bed telling me to wake up.” Mad Dog lay back down.

  “Go home, Rambo,” he whispered.

  “No, I’m staying.”

  The room grew quiet. The soft rumble of the furnace chased the ghost away. Mad Dog slept. Mason got up and went to the window. Moon light hovered over the leafless shrubbery in the yard below. Leprous patches of snow marred the emerging spring lawn. Mason closed the curtain and then walked over to the bureau, picking up a photograph of Gina. Mad Dog must have loved her a great deal. Mason wondered if that same depth of emotion lived within him.

  “Rambo, you look like you’ve just committed a murder. Didn’t you hear me, man?”

  Mason turned. It was as if he had conjured a ghost. “You fucking asshole! “You scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doing here anyway?”

  “What do you mean, what am I doing here? You do a little too much nose candy?” Mad Dog’s brows moved together in a bewildered expression.

  “Sorry.” Mason finished the whiskey. The liquid fire helped to clear his head. “I’m surprised to see you. I figured you’d be with Ellen.”

  Mason fixed his eyes on the bottom of the empty glass, afraid of Mad Dog’s scrutiny.

  “Ellen? Why would I be with Ellen?”

  Mason glanced up. “You didn’t fix her car?”

  “Yeah, I fixed her car. But I’ve been busy and haven’t been able to stop over.” Mad Dog looked across the bar, “Nick, a boiler maker with Jack.”

  “Sure thing.” Nick filled a glass and then poured a shot. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought maybe you’d turned into a teetotaler.”

  Mad Dog laughed, “When hell freezes over.”

  Nick grinned and then busied himself behind the bar. Mad Dog turned to Mason.

  “You and Desi talking yet?”

  “No.” Mason rested his elbows on the polished bar. “I think she wanted me to propose.”

  Mason rubbed the palms of his hands together. “I can’t see myself married. Sometimes Desi would say, ‘Wouldn’t a little Rambo be nice?’ Fucking scared the shit out of me.”

  Mad Dog chuckled. “We definitely don’t need a clone of you walking this earth.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Mad Dog grinned, looked across the bar and took a long drink.

  “Being married isn’t so bad, Rambo. It was nice having a woman looking out for me… giving me hell wh
en I was being an asshole.”

  Mad Dog spun the empty shot glass. “The kid thing…. It’s scary at first, but once they start coming, it’s awesome. Kids make you grow up. You become responsible for this life you’ve created, and you forget about being afraid. All your time is taken up with making sure they’re fed and safe. Being a husband and a father are the two best things I’ve ever done.”

  Uncertain how to respond, Mason watched his distorted reflection in the polished bar.

  “You think the reason you couldn’t make any promises to Desi is because she’s not the one? Take Ellen ….”

  Mason closed his eyes, his body tensing into cold stone.

  “She’s a good woman… pretty… smart… sexy.” Mad Dog looked at him. “But for me the spark wasn’t there.”

  Mason’s eyes popped open. “The spark wasn’t there! It sure the hell looked like it Sunday when she was feeding you pancakes for Christ’s sake.

  “I was messing with you, bro.” Mad Dog grinned. “I saw how the two of you were looking at each other all night. You had that gleam in your eye.”

  “Gleam in my eye? What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

  “That gleam! The ‘hey, doll, get your sweet ass over here cause I want to make you scream’ kind of gleam.” Mad Dog chuckled. “It wasn’t there when you were with Desi, but I sure as hell saw it when you were looking at Ellen.”

  Mad Dog raised his eyebrows “Be warned, Rambo. That’s what gets you into some serious shit. Before you know it, you’re at the altar.”

  “You were jerking my chain about rocking the tent with Ellen?”

  “Well… not exactly.”

  Mad Dog looked at Mason, screwing his lips to one side.

  “Nothing happened between the two of you?”

  Mad Dog shook his head. “I wouldn’t say nothing.”

  Suddenly Mason wanted to drive his fist right into Mad Dog’s jaw. “So are you interested in Ellen or not?”

  Mad Dog grinned. “She’s all yours.”

  “Why, you bastard! I ought to… do you know what kind of a shit head I’ve been feeling like because I thought the two of you—”