Web of Lies

by Elizabeth Knox

  Letting out a sigh, she exited out of all tabs on her screen, then closed the laptop. Tonight she would go home, gulp a bottle of wine, sans glass, and pet her only friend, her cat. Oh wait, she didn’t even have a cat in her life. What a fucking joke.

  Chapter Five

  “It’s really loud in here, isn’t it?” Ian shouted over the pulsing techno music blaring in the club.

  “What?” Patrick screamed.

  Ian shook his head and continued to sip on his— what did Pat call it?— that’s right, a Flirtini. When the bubbly pineapple flavor hit his tongue, Ian cringed at the sweetness of it. Jameson was more his speed. Two fingers high, in a Rocks glass, no frills, just alcohol. But the cocktail he currently held in his hand was far from the comforts of what he was used to. So was the atmosphere in the club. The thumping music was customary to any of the clubs that lined the strip of South Beach, but Ian hadn’t frequented any of them since Lance and he were teenagers. At that point in time, they rebelled by sneaking in the back door. Yet there he stood in the thick of it with Audrey’s brother— who by the way couldn’t help but wave at damn near every attractive male that came within a few feet. If Ian were in fact gay and on a date, he would be somewhat taken aback by his partner's behavior. Soon though, Pat turned his attention back to Ian.

  “Let’s go someplace a bit quieter,” he placed his martini glass on the bar and motioned for him to follow.

  Across the dance floor they strode, sweaty bodies bumping and grinding against them as they made their way to a closed door. Once Patrick opened it, he ushered Ian inside, closing it behind them. The music was instantly drowned out, and so was Ian’s pounding headache.

  “Are we allowed to be in here?” he looked around at the simple room— only a couch and loveseat against the walls.

  “Sure. This place is owned by a friend, well, an ex of mine. He’s fine with whatever.” Pat sat on the loveseat, crossing his legs while his arms stretched out on the back of the loveseat. “You and I have to chat.” He said, one side of his mouth hooked upward.

  “About what?” Ian placed his drink on the floor and began pacing the room.

  “Why are you pretending to be gay?”

  With his stomach in his throat, Ian kept his attention to the floor— embarrassment flooding him. Should he continue to lie to Audrey’s brother? If he did tell the truth, wouldn’t Pat relay it to her and in turn, Ian would be screwed. Damn it. “I don’t know what to say,” he skirted the subject just a bit longer with his statement, hoping it would give him just enough time to come up with a good response. But nothing came out as Pat looked to him with knowing eyes. It was as if the other man could see into his soul— the dark recesses of his fictitious existence. Lying was like rolling a snowball down a mountain. By the time it reached the bottom, it was a damn avalanche. Currently, Ian was trapped beneath a heavy icy curtain that was threatening to smother the life from him. “The truth is, I’m not gay. But I have a reason for saying I am.” He started.

  “Let’s hear it, and it better be good.”

  “When I was hired to work with your sister, she judged me right out of the gate by what I was wearing. She pegged me for either wealthy or gay. I went with the latter instead of the truth.”

  “So you have money?” Patrick leaned forward with interest.

  “I do. It’s family money.” He paused. “Look, I’ve been judged all my life for what I have instead of who I am. I didn’t want that to be the case here. Haven’t you ever wanted to be someone else for a little while?”

  “That’s the difference between you and I. I’ve always been myself no matter what. If people don’t like it, fuck them.” Patrick waved his hands through the air and stood. “Personally, I think your reason for lying is ignorant, and I’m quite offended by it.”

  “I never meant to hurt anyone, Pat.” Ian could hear his own sadness dripping from his voice. His insides were chewed all to hell and in tangled knots.

  “You need to get your shit together,” Patrick said just before storming from the small room and back into the noisy club.

  Great. The cat had jumped from the bag and was on the loose. Wasn’t that just perfect? The major issue was that Pat would more than likely run to Audrey and reveal Ian’s secret. How was he going to dig free from the mess he had trapped himself in?

  “So, there isn’t anyone named, Ian Smith who lives in this building,” Audrey stood in front of the Southgate Towers building manager with her hands firmly on her hips. She’d harassed just about every tenant that’d passed through the plate glass doors, and each time she was rebuffed. It wasn’t until the manager showed up that she realized she seemed like a lunatic stalker of some sort.

  “Miss, I’ve told you four times already. We have no one by that name who resides here. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He stepped forward, invading her personal space. Was that Old Spice aftershave she just got a putrid whiff of?

  “Well, this paper says he lives in the penthouse apartment. So either he’s lying, or you are. Which is it? Carl.” Audrey flicked her finger across the man’s name tag, annunciating his four-letter name.

  “Am I gonna have to call the cops?” he asked in a serious tone.

  Shit, she didn’t need a night in jail. “No.”

  “Hey, Carl, what’s going on here?” Ian’s voice cut through the tense air. Pursing her lips, she scrunched up her nose, slowly turning around to face him. “Audrey, what are you doing here?” the surprise on his face was evident.

  Just like always, her luck had run out. She could’ve sworn she’d set a field of four-leaf clovers on fire in a former life. Maybe broken a few thousand mirrors too. “I uh, was looking for an apartment.” She lied.

  “Lady, you are crazier than a bag of cats. She is looking for Ian Smith.” Carl blurted out.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Ian stepped forward, grabbing her elbow then leading her to the elevator.

  You know that moment in school when you get sent to the principal’s office for fighting on the playground? Yeah, she felt like that in spades, as the doors shut and the small box made its way to the top floor. If she ever had any faith that she’d make a fantastic secret agent, all of that faith had been successfully squashed. Audrey was now in the hands of the enemy regime, preparing to be verbally waterboarded. When the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open, she kept her feet rooted in place, wanting to delay the reading of the riot act that was sure to take place soon enough.

  “Are you coming, or not?” Ian turned with a set of keys dangling from his fingers.

  “I don’t know,” she stepped forward, looking down both sides of the hallway as if she were waiting for an attacker.

  She watched him jam a key into the lock of the large door perpendicular to the elevator. “I’m going in, if you want to hang out in the elevator, suit yourself.” He pushed the door open, stepping inside.

  Audrey grumbled, then nervously followed. When she crossed the threshold, her eyes went wide with awe. Clean lines, chrome and black seemed to cover every space except for the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the bay. Modernist art pieces hung on the stark white walls, with small accent lighting above each one. It didn’t look like the apartment of a struggling journalist, rather a weekend crash pad for James Bond himself.

  “I guess we need to talk,” Ian said as he poured himself a couple fingers of liquor in a tumbler. “Want to let me in on the real reason you were in the lobby downstairs?” One eyebrow lifted in curiosity as his lips wrapped the rim of the glass.

  “How do you afford this place?” she walked to the windows, taking in how the evening sunlight sparkled off the water below.

  “Answer my question first.” Shit, how did he sneak up behind her so fast? Was this guy a vampire?

  “Fine. Real talk, I was checking you out.” She paused. “Not like, checking you out. You know, just digging around.” She realized how much of a creeper she was being. “That didn’t sound right.”
<
br />   “It sounds like you have been sticking your nose in places where it doesn’t belong.” Slight anger peppered his words.

  “Okay, back the train up a few feet. Before you get your junk stuck in your trunks, you should know that I didn’t investigate you for any purposes other than my own curiosity.” She fumbled a bit.

  “And why are you so curious about me?” he asked.

  “Point blank, you act suspicious.”

  “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “Nope. Never have, never will.” She stood her ground. “Now, answer my question. How do you afford this place?”

  Ian stepped back a few feet, panic written all over his face like a full-length novel. Audrey watched him shift from foot to foot, intermittently shoving his hands in his pockets, then taking them out again. “The truth is, I do have money,” he shrugged while looking down at the floor. “Also, I’m not uh, gay.” He admitted.

  Her eyes went wide as if she’d just seen her first UFO. Hell, she would’ve been less shocked if little green men marched through the door at that exact moment. “Not gay?” Yep, she was going to need a forklift to pick her bottom jaw off the floor.

  “No,” Ian pushed his fingers through his hair, still avoiding eye contact.

  “I’m confused. Why would you say you are?”

  He let out a sigh. “When you first met me, you assumed I was either wealthy or gay because of the way I was dressed. I didn’t want you to know I had money.” He admitted.

  “But why?”

  “All my life I’ve been judged for what I have, Audrey. I didn’t want that to be the case here.”

  “I’m hurt you’d think I was that kind of a person, Ian.” A knot settled in her stomach. “Just, wow.” Thoughts jumbled together like a shitty pair of earbuds. But in a way, it was her fault for assuming, right?

  “You have to understand where I’m coming from on this. You weren’t the warmest when I first met you.” He laughed. “But then I got to know you better and I realized what I was doing was wrong.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tears welling in her eyes. It was strange that Ian had been the only man to ever make her cry. Now he’d done it twice. Bastard.

  “No, it’s not right and nothing I say is going to make it that way. But I want you to know I’m sorry for misleading you. At this point, all I can do is apologize.” He offered.

  Well shit. An apology was an apology, after all. “I need a drink.” Without thinking about it too much, Audrey walked across the room to where he’d placed the bottle of alcohol. She unscrewed the cap and held it in her hand.

  “Can I get you a gl— .” Before he could finish, she tipped the bottle up and let the spicy burn trail down her throat. “Or not.” It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Six

  Two hours later, Ian stood outside his bathroom door, listening to a giggling Audrey who was enamored by the soap. “Oh my God! These are the cutest little soaps ever!” she shouted. “I wanna take the wittle babies home wiff me!”

  “Are you okay in there?” he rapped his knuckles on the door.

  “I could live in here,” she swooned.

  Ian quickly learned that an inebriated Audrey, was the complete opposite of a sober one. Whereas the sober one was buttoned up, the soused one had already lost her top, and developed a new language he was having a rough time translating.

  “Dude, you have soooo many condoms in here,” he heard the sound of the vanity drawers being opened and shut. “That’s so respon . . . what’s the word? Respond able of you.” She giggled.

  “Why don’t you come out of there?” he knocked again.

  Suddenly the door flung open with Audrey standing there, her hair all disheveled around her face. Clearly, she hadn’t found her shirt either. Her pale chest was proudly on display in a smooth white bra. “Let’s use one of these,” she held up a condom.

  “Uh, no.” Ian pushed her hand back.

  “But they have an expiration date. Waste not, want not.” She laughed while following him.

  Dear God, what had he gotten himself into? “It’s not going to happen. Here, sit down, you need coffee.” He made his way to the kitchen.

  “Oh I get it, I’m not attractive enough for your fancy place here. Do I need diamond titties to get into your bed?”

  “No, but you do need to be sober.” He clapped back. “Here,” Ian passed her a steaming cup of black coffee. “Drink this and then lay down.”

  “Oh I get it. This is the PG-rated version. I pass out, you cover me with a fuzzy blanket and I’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a head full of rocks and regret.” She laughed. “My idea sounds much more fun.”

  “Yeah, but I have more respect for you than that, Audrey.” He said before leaving the room.

  He’d be lying once again if he said he didn’t find her attractive in her current state, but he wouldn’t act on it. Audrey wasn’t the type of woman to screw, then boot out the door. She deserved to be treated like the intelligent, passionate woman she was. Ian smiled to himself as he thought back to her shoving a condom in his face. How easy it would’ve been to take her up on her offer. To push her against the wall, then bury himself in her until they both couldn’t see straight. “Damn it,” he cursed. What he needed was a shower to wash away the dirty thoughts, but the phone ringing in his pocket would prevent that.

  Upon pulling the device free, he noticed Lance’s name on the screen. With a roll of his eyes, he answered, “Yeah?”

  “Nice greeting, douche bag.” Lance grumbled.

  “Sorry. I’m dealing with some stuff right now.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Well, I may have admitted that I’m not gay,” he whispered.

  “I’m sure that went over like a lead balloon.”

  “Considering the fact she’s passed out drunk on my sofa, I’d say it went better than expected.” Ian tiptoed back down the hall to check on Audrey. His mouth kicked up on both sides when he spotted her, curled up on the couch like a comfortable feline.

  “No shit? By the way you’ve talked about her, I would’ve thought she was selling your balls on eBay by now.” He chuckled.

  “I can’t keep lying to her about who I am.”

  “Holy hell, you have feelings for her, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know, man. I’m so confused right now.” Ian made his way to the bedroom, taking a seat at the end of the bed. “I didn’t expect this.”

  “This is going to sound insane coming from me, but maybe you were meant to meet her.”

  “Ugh, calm down Shakespeare, I’m not in love with her.” Ian hung his head.

  “Are you sure?” Lance’s voice went up a few octaves.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Audrey’s voice caused his head to snap up, the phone falling from his hand and to the floor. “I’m leaving.” She stated before stomping down the hall.

  Ian forgot about the phone and chased after her. “Audrey, wait.”

  She spun around, poking her finger into his chest. “It’s no surprise you don’t like me. I just don’t need to hear you talking to someone else about it.” She huffed.

  “I swear I didn’t mean it like that.” He defended.

  “Can I offer you a shovel to help dig that hole deeper?” she asked. “Never mind, I should go.”

  Something came over him at that moment, something he had zero control over. Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he managed to pull her close enough their toes were touching. Burying his other hand in her tangled hair, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. Maybe this will shut her up, he thought. What he didn’t expect was when she melted into him like ice cream lapping over the sides of a cone on a sweltering summer day. The flavor of his whiskey played on her lips, enticing him to dive deeper. There was a fruity note that he hadn’t previously tasted in his favorite beverage— it had to have been her. Soft groans escaped her throat
as he explored her mouth until he was nearly breathless. But just as he was becoming accustomed to her taste, she hastily pulled away at the sound of the front door opening.

  “Am I interrupting?” Ian now regretted giving his brother a key to the penthouse.

  “I was just leaving,” Audrey spun toward Lance and stopped as if she’d hit an invisible force field. “Lance?” she asked, confusing Ian.

  “Audrey?” Lance visibly stiffened, an almost pained expression littering his usually relaxed face.

  “How do you know each other?” Ian asked, but silence continued to stretch through the air.

  “Wait, how do you know each other?” She motioned between the two of them.

  “Lance is my b—.” Ian started.

  “Best friends. We are best friends,” Lance chimed in.

  Great, thanks little brother. Way to add to the lies he was trying to make right.

  There was nothing in the world more sobering than seeing your ex-boyfriend from college and finding out, you were just kissing his best friend. Had she accidentally stepped on the set of The Jerry Springer show? Was Maury going to pop out of the nearest closet and tell her she was not the father? Her first love, and the man she hated the most in the world was standing in front of her— his name was Lance Parsons.

  “I’m gonna go,” she fled to the door, wanting to be anywhere but around Lance.

  The entire elevator ride to the lobby, she tried to reconcile the fact that Ian and Lance were friends. Lance was a douche canoe— correction, he was a douche yacht, sailing aimlessly in the Sea of Douchery. Ian was a nice guy, a lying nice guy but still. “This is ridiculous.” She chewed one of her fingernails so deeply, it was now pulled to the quick and bleeding. She swiped it on her shirt, not caring that the blood would stain later. Seeing her old flame brought back feelings and fears, ones she’d buried since their non-amicable parting back in college. Anger and sadness threatened to take her to the floor as she stepped from the elevator and into the lobby of the building. Turning to the left she caught sight of herself in a decorative mirror, “Gross,” Audrey reached up, smoothing what looked like a lion’s mane, into a haphazard messy bun. She then used her fingers to wipe away the smudged eyeliner practically dripping down her face.