Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1)

by Michelle Watson

  Chapter seven

  Hurting

  Sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar, dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt, dark jeans, black Converses, holding Tyler’s bear in the crook of my arm, I watch Hunter rinse off my syrup-covered plate. His pancakes were amazing, better than I remember. It’s been so long since I’ve had them.

  Hero left as soon as Hunter told him to and Falcon is pacing on the front porch, whispering irritably on the phone.

  Hunter places the light blue plate in the plastic dish rake on the counter, next to the sink. Seeing him wash dishes in so odd. He used to keep his room very filthy when we were kids. He never ever cleaned. Dirt just piled on top of more dirt. Now he has transformed into a neat-freak. Everything in his elegant glass box is weirdly organized and color coordinated. Not one item out of place. His conversion is truly baffling to witness.

  “He’s talking to his boyfriend,” Hunter says flatly, his back facing me.

  “So,” I reply, nonchalantly.

  Falcon told me he was bi when we first dated six years ago. It was never a problem for us.

  “So?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  He snorts, amused, in disbelief and dunks his hands back into the soapsuds.

  I study Hunter for long moment, coming up with the only conclusion he would care about Falcon’s sexuality. “You know, Hunter, being homophobic doesn’t look good on you. We do live in small southern town and all, but I thought you were more of a decent person than that. You’re just as bad as your mother.”

  His spine automatically straightens and his hands stop searching in the foamy water. “I’m not homophobic, Isabel,” says, offended and through gritted teeth.

  Yeah, but your mother is.

  “You know that. Jesus, I used to watch reruns of Will and Grace with you. I let you paint my face in glittery makeup and add pink flower and butterfly clips in my hair,” he says in a low, strained voice.

  He takes his hands out the dish suds and slams his wet fists against the sink counter, starling me and making me jump. He clutches the edge of the sink, breathing heavily and trying to control his anger. “I’m not like my mother. I’m not anything like my mother,” he mutters, irately.

  I’d apologize but it wouldn’t be sincere. In a strange and vengeful kind of way, making him upset makes me feel a lot better.

  He wipes his hands on a small green dish towel that hangs off the handle of his stove. “I need some air,” mumbles, turning to face me. His ocean blue eyes have turned cold and sharp. Hunter leans his back against the sink and stares at me. “I’m going out for a while.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, feeling a dull ache in my chest.

  “Gonna stop by your house to pick up your mail. Do you need something?”

  I nod. “My brother’s laptop, it should be on his desk in his room.”

  “Got it,” he snaps, scooping up his truck keys off the bar. He strolls to the door and then halts, turning to face me. “I want you here, in my bed when I get back. You’re not ready to be on your own yet.”

  “Okay,” I repeat, unsure of why I’m agreeing with him.

  His lips twitch and he swings around, walking out the door. Falcon gives him a vicious glare as he moves past him, coming back in the house towards me. Hunter ignores him completely. Having Hunter and Falcon under the same roof is mindboggling. They haven’t been around each other since our freshman year of high school.

  “I really don’t like him, Izzy,” he says, annoyed. “Why are you even here with him after what he put you through?”

  I touch Falcon’s knee in a reassuring squeeze. He places his hand around mine and brings it up to the counter top of the bar, rolling my sleeve up. His fingers lightly trace the fine white scars that are littered across my flesh. “He hurt you to the point where you had to hurt yourself. I don’t know what his motive is, but I don’t trust him. He’s hungry for something to destroy; I see it in his eyes. I don’t trust him, especially with you, my love.” Falcon locks eyes with me, bringing my palm up to his mouth to kiss it. His familiar soft lips spark a light within me.

  Before I can stop myself, I lean in and grab his face with my free hand and press my lips harshly to his. His breath hitches, his lips parting. My tongue darts inside and touches his. He groans, then places his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me away. “I can’t,” he says breathless, brown eyes wide and pained. “I love you, but I love him, too. I can’t hurt you or him. Forgive me?”

  I settle back on the stool, feeling extremely foolish. “I put you in a difficult spot. I’m sorry. I’m selfish. I want to be selfish right now, Falcon. But I don’t want to hurt you, either. Forgive me?”

  He smiles, bright and beautiful. “Always, Izzy, always.”

  I pull my bunched up sleeve down, running my hand over the fabric, smoothing the wrinkles. “How’s Vic anyway?” Victor is Falcon’s hot Latin lover. He met Vic at his art school in Japan his freshman year.

  “He’s as bossy and whiny as ever. He actually told me what designer jewelry he wanted for his engagement ring, the cut, the size, the clarity, everything. My brat has expensive taste. I’m getting gray hairs at the ripe age of twenty-one.”

  “You spoil him too much,” I tease.

  “You’re right. He left school and followed me here when I told him not to. He’s worried about you. He misses you, too.”

  “He’s sweet. I miss him.” Falcon is definitely the more masculine one, the protector. Victor is slim, unbelievably stunning, and heartbreakingly kind. “We should go out for dinner tonight.”

  “Roxy’s Diner?”

  I nod, excitedly.

  Falcon’s light brown eyes sparkle and then narrow. “Are you two gonna get me in trouble tonight?”

  “Maybe,” I say, mischievously.

  ***

  Roxy’s Diner is a cool retro restaurant with peppermint booths, checkerboard floors, and bright bubblegum pink walls. The walls are hung with large black and white photos of celebrities in the late nineteen forties and fifties. The diner has a functioning jukebox and even the waitresses wear those adorable little pink and white dress uniforms with the cute aprons tied around their waists and the paper hats atop their heads. This warm, inviting place always, no matter what’s cooking, smells like fresh baked apple-pie. This diner is a time capsule. I love this place.

  “Will ya’ll be having the usual?” Candy asks, smiling sweetly at each of us. She has shiny fiery red long hair and pretty large green eyes. Her skin is marble white and flawless. She, Falcon, Hunter, and I all went to school together. Candy and Hunter dated on and off throughout the years. But Hunter decided to settle down with Sally Baker, Ms. Cherry Creek herself. Sally is the town’s cherished and beloved beauty queen. Her father is now the mayor of Cherry Creek. After a year of them being together, Hunter and Sally got engaged last summer. But six months ago Hunter and Sally mysteriously broke up for no apparent reason. Cherry Creek is a very small-town of only seven thousand and ten people. Everyone knows everyone and everything, but everyone was, and still is, baffled by the split between the two. They appeared picture perfect together. Barbie and Ken.

  “Yeah,” Falcon answers, “’cept add a strawberry shake to Izzy’s order. She loves strawberry shakes.”

  “Perfect. It’ll be right up,” Candy replies before wandering around to other tables.

  “I know why her parents named her Candy,” Vic says, his brown eyes glinting at us.

  “Why?” I ask, smiling.

  “Yeah. Why?” Falcon asks too.

  “’Cause I bet she’s sweet as sugar. I practically got diabetes from her beaming smile and batting eyelashes.”

  “Honey lump, where do you come up this stuff?” Falcon asks, truly intrigued.

  “One of many talents,” he purrs.

  “That was good, but her mom could only eat candy and sweet stuff when she was pregnant with Candy. It was the only thing that stayed down and didn’t make her sick. But Candy is really, really sweet, though,”
I add. “It’s almost unnatural.”

  Vic and Flacon smile at me. “It’s time to spill your guts, Pocahontas. Why on earth are you staying with John Smith?” Vic questions, suspiciously.

  Exhaling, I sink back into the booth and stare at the happy couple that’s deeply in love with one another. I’d be sick with envy if I didn’t love Falcon so much. They both seem vibrant and full of life when I’m in a dull gray zone. I pull some napkins from the dispenser and toy with them, stretching them between my fingers. “He found me.”

  “He found you?” Falcon says, confused.

  “I took some…pills and dozed off in the tub,” I mumble, shifting my eyes out the plate-glass window avoiding theirs. The red glow of the bright neon lights outside of the diner bounces off the smooth mirror puddles in the black cracked street.

  “Bullshit, Izzy. You took pills so you wouldn’t wake up,” Falcon corrects with a sudden harshness that makes me shiver.

  “Honey, you need to calm down,” Vic suggests quietly.

  Feeling Falcon’s anger radiate off him in lethal bolts, I revert my eyes to his, trying my best not to flinch from pain in his gaze. “Yeah. You’re right. I didn’t want to wake up. I still don’t. My father fucking hung himself in the basement. My mother killed herself with a fatal cocktail mixture of prescription drugs. My brother, my Tyler, jumped off The Suicide Bridge. I. Want. To. Die. You and Hunter can’t watch me forever. Why should you? I don’t have to suck it up and live life if I don’t want to. I can be a coward. Living and dying is my decision. It’s mine alone. You and Hunter don’t seem to realize that. You guys just don’t get it; I don’t have to move on.”

  Falcon’s jaw hardens to the point I think all his pretty white teeth might crumble to broken fragments under the strain and pressure of grinding them. “You,” he states severely pissed, “don’t have a choice anymore. That privilege died when you wanted to. Swear to God, Isabel, swear to fucking Christ, I’ll have your ass on a long flight back to Japan with us…” in a move too fast for my eyes to process, Falcon’s arms shoots out and grasps my arms by my elbows, cruelly jerking me forward and across the table until our noses touch “…don’t test me. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  Breathing raggedly, I narrow my eyes.

  Falcon’s grasp tightens, cutting off the flow of blood in my veins. “Do you understand me? If I ask again, your ass will be too sore to sit on. Got it?”

  My eyes drop down to the wrinkled napkins that I grip tightly in my hands. Falcon has to have total and complete domination in his relationships. When we first dated, I thought it was some kind of juvenile phase. But I was wrong. He’s just controlling, that’s who he is and, to me, it’s one of his best qualities. “I understand.”

  He releases me and I take huge breath, the blood painfully circulating in my arms again.

  “Honey, you need to approach Izzy carefully. She’s already frightened. Make her feel at ease,” Victor says softly, caressing Falcon’s tense arm. Then Vic’s warm brown eyes flicker to me. “Izzy, you haven’t experienced what life has to offer yet. You’re only twenty. Take a chance and do something so difficult it feels impossible. Live.”

  “I can’t face the world as myself. I feel too raw,” I murmur.

  “Who says you have to?” Vic asks. “What do you want to be? Pick someone so far away from who you truly are.”

  I ponder on this for a while, coming up with one thing. “I want to be a whore, maybe just for tonight, or maybe longer.” I shrug. “Who knows?”

  “Fun choice,” Vic agrees.

  “I know, right? I’ve only slept with one person, who happens to be with the love of his life right now. My options of other men in Cherry Creek are very limited, but I still get to choose who I want to fuck. It’s been two and a half years since I’ve had any action. Maybe I’ll find a lonely old man or something.”

  Falcon drops his head, squeezing his eyes shut, muttering angry things too low for me to hear under his breath.

  “We should go to Mayhem after this,” I add.

  Mayhem is an exclusive nightclub just outside of town. It’s world famous for the plush interior and insanely attractive women and men bartenders and staff. The coolest part is Falcon’s father, Blake, owns the entire place.

  Vic’s gives me a concerned glance, giving Falcon’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Sure, why not.”

  When Candy comes back with our food and drinks, I’m strangely the only one who has an appetite. I’m really hungry now, and not only for food.

  Chapter eight

  Mayhem

  Sitting in a low yellow chair in Falcon’s bedroom in front of Vic’s antique vanity table that’s covered with paraphernalia of a beauty salon, Victor spreads silky powers and creams on my face with soft bristle makeup brushes. Vic has transformed me from an average girl into a fairy-like goddess. The two intricate braids that are laced with white ribbons on either side of my head rest on long shiny dark strands that cascade down my shoulders. He has dressed me in a short white dress made of some kind of flowy thin semi-shimmering fabric with long sleeves. No matter which direction I move, the glittering material throws off bits of sparkles in an array of rainbow hues. It’s reminds of something a something an angel would wear as a fairy costume. Shiny gold sandal traps crisscross up my ankles and legs, all the way to my knees. But the best part is that Victor has covered my skin from neck to toe in elegant henna designs. It’s stunning. I look, well, like an exotic princess. The only danger that I have is exiting and entering across The Suicide Bridge. It’s the only way in and out of this town.

  The trip over the bridge isn’t as bad as I thought. My nerves about fulfilling my role as a whore outweigh my unbearable sorrow for the death of my brother. The pain is still there, though. I just choose not to acknowledge it.

  Vic is dressed in a sparkling red suit made completely of blood-red sequence with a matching bowtie. He laces our fingers as the gated elevator opens to the ground level of the club. We step off the elevator into a dark and foggy room that’s filled with dry-ice smoke and that seems to extend to infinity. Above our heads, flashing neon laser lights abruptly change as dancers gyrate in many glowing globe-shaped bar cages. The club is filled with sweaty, dancing bodies.

  Vic leans down to whisper in my ear, over the ear-shattering electronic music. “I’m heading to the bar. Keep your phone on and on vibrate. No drinking, no matter who wants to buy you a drink. Stay close. Falcon will kill me if anything happened to you.”

  Falcon was silent the entire trip up here. He’s still unbelievably pissed at me. Livid. Instead of coming down with us, he went to his father’s office on the top floor of this five-story building. His father watches over the club floor from a massive glass window planted into the wall at the perfect angle to see everything.

  “Okay,” I mutter kind of annoyed. “Since when do whores have babysitters?”

  “Their baby-sitters are called pimps, Izzy. I’m sure Falcon told his dad to keep the hulks they call security on our asses. So I suggest you take my advice before Falcon decides he wants you totally out all-together.”

  “Fine,” I mumble, giving in. I hold my right wrist up to his face. “It’s not like I can drink with this hideous neon yellow wristband, anyway.”

  He flashes me a dazzling smile that makes my heart melt and then saunters into the direction of the bar. Victor is gay and utterly gorgeous. As a warm-blooded female, I’m affected by his beauty and charm.

  “Hiya, beautiful,” a handsome-looking guy with short cropped copper-colored and dark glossy eyes says, sliding swiftly behind me.

  I tip my head back to look up at him to identify the color of his eyes and fail. Not blue. Not green. Or brown. They’re just large black voids. For some odd reason, this irritates me. “H-h-hi,” I stutter nervously. He’s tall and muscular and…intense.

  “Why is such a pretty girl alone in a place like this? A big bad wolf just may come and eat you alive.” He smiles, revealing straight sharp-looki
ng white teeth.

  I haven’t been alone for a full minute and someone is already on my tail.

  “Are you that wolf?” I ask naively, smiling back and batting my lashes. I’m trying my best to be intentionally sweet and innocent and lacking of experience. Hopefully danger will destroy me before I ever have another chance.

  “Mmmm,” he rumbles lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest, “I could be.” His hand drops down and suddenly interlocks with mine, tugging me into the mass of people on the dance floor. He doesn’t stop until we’re thoroughly hidden by everyone. He grins and turns me around so my back is pressed to his front. He painfully squeezes my hips. Feeling his erection jab me in my backside, I toss my head back on his chest from the sensation. He sinks his sharp teeth into the side of my neck and I gasp, struggling out of his hold.

  He chuckles sinisterly and releases me.

  My hand flies to my wound in shock. I think he broke skin. “You asshole! You bit me!” I yell furiously.

  Mr. Asshole smirks, then pulls something from his jean pocket. He extends his hand, unclenching his fist, revealing a variety of different pills. Some are clear capsules filled with white powder; others are engraved with many things like hearts, butterflies, birds, peace signs, and stars. Some are even shaped as cartoon characters like SpongeBob SquarePants. They look like vitamins. Then there is a tiny baggy containing something that looks like shaved ice crystals.

  “Molly, X, ice, vicodin,” he points out, educating me on a little drug lesson.

  “I don’t want any pills,” I declare in disgust, shaking my head.

  “These are not just any pills. Take one. You’ll be on cloud nine.”

  Abandoning the responsibilities and grief-stricken agony and playing the role of young, stupid girl, I nod. I quickly scoop up four pills from his palm and pop them in my mouth, swallowing immediately.