Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1)

by Michelle Watson

  “What does what mean?”

  “What Ricky said about Rex being just like his brother?”

  “You haven’t heard the rumors?”

  I shake my head.

  “Everyone says that Max raped Lily and that’s why they’re not together anymore.”

  My eyes expand and my throat tightens. “What?”

  He shrugs, indifferently. “That’s what everyone says.”

  “But he’s a cop.”

  “I know. Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s bullshit. Cherry Creek is always swirling with some kind of secrets and rumors of the town’s residents. I don’t pay any mind to it, though. You shouldn’t either. I only believe things I see with my eyes, and my eyes saw you kissing Lark. You guys were locking face like your lives depended on it.”

  “Jealous, Derrick?” I tease.

  His breathtaking eyes squint and he takes slow deliberate steps until he’s almost nose to nose with me. “If I wanted to kiss you, I would kiss you.”

  Learning forward, my mouth descends on his, forming my lips to his soft ones. The kiss is just a light peck, because Derrick is too stunned to respond to it. I pull back and smile at him as he stares at me, brows snapping together in either anger, confusion, or both. People gasp and mutter insults under their breath.

  I don’t care.

  They can say anything they want about me, because it’s about me, not Tyler, not my dead parents. I’m only trading one false reputation for another, so why should I care how they feel towards me.

  They don’t know me.

  They never will.

  Derrick’s eyes fall to the ground and his hand lifts to touch his mouth, his fingers linger on his bottom lip. Maybe he’s savoring the kiss. He looks like he’s pondering and then his eyes gradually meet mine, full of compassion and sincerity that see through my layers as if I am entirely translucent. “You should get those fixed.”

  I jerk my head back and watch his arm drop to his side. “What fixed?”

  “You’re wings. They’re broken. You need to fix them so you can fly again.”

  The pain in my chest is so sudden and severe that I have to take a step back. My body feels seized, my lungs are constricted, and I just want to crumble into nothing and get carried away with the wind.

  The hysterical wail rattling in my chest wants out, it’s ripping me apart from in the inside out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice is barely a whisper.

  His expression turns into pleading. “I do. My grandma passed two months ago. I loved her more than I loved myself. She was my everything and when she died, a piece of my damn soul died. Let it out. It hurts, but that’s life. You can survive this. Just let it out.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I begin to inhale through my tingly nose. Through the blistering agony and grief, I find some kind of resolve and open my eyes, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders. I yank a half filled vodka bottle from the table, twist open the cap and gulp. The alcohol scorches my mouth, tongue, throat and chest; it takes the very breath right out of me. I suck in a lungful if oxygen through gritted teeth and wipe the burning, numbing liquid from my lips. “Don’t worry, Derrick. I’ll let it out, maybe with your brother, Jake. He can be next. Do you think he’ll like me?”

  “The fuck, Isabel?”

  Hero appears from nowhere and jerks the bottle out of my hand. If I didn’t catch myself on the back of Apple’s chair, I would have fallen to the ground from Hero’s raw strength. “What the fuck, Derrick?” He gets dangerously close in Derrick’s face, his expression livid. “You let her drink Everclear?!”

  Derrick takes a cautious step back. “She only took a sip. It was fast. I was going to snatch from her.”

  “When? When she’s drunk off her ass?” Hero questions as he takes another step forward.

  “Hero,” Derrick puts his palms up, “calm down. I consider you a real friend. I don’t want to fight.”

  “I thought we were friends, but this shit—” he holds the bottle up to Derrick’s face and mockingly jiggles it “—should not be going down with her. You know. Goddamn it! YOU KNOW!”

  Feeling the angry swell inside of me, I sidestep Hero and put my hands on his hard chest, pushing him with all my might.

  He doesn’t even budge.

  Hero grabs my wrist, swiftly switching positions and then my back slams into something hard. A wall. He’s gripping my wrists so tightly; I feel my pulse thud heavily against his clenching fingers that pinch my skin. Hero presses up against me, the hard contours of his body against mine. He holds my arms above my head. We both stare at one another, our breathing ragged, and chests heaving. His scent, that’s so very similar to Hunter’s, is suffocating me. I struggle in his grasp, trying to free myself, but he only uses more force to pin me down, the Everclear bottle still in hand.

  Narrowing my eyes, I look into stormy dark blue ones that stare back at. There is an array of emotions brewing there: animosity, frustration, annoyance, irritation, misery, confusion, attraction, loathsome, aroused, bewilderment.

  My wrists grow limp in his hands. “It’s okay,” I breathe. I spread my legs further apart, letting his hips fall deeper into mine. “You can have me, Hero. I can share.”

  He shuts his eyes and rests his forehead on mine, breathing still labored. Hero gives me the tiniest of a thrust, the hardness of his arousal nudging me through the material of his jeans.

  I inhale sharply.

  “This is fucking insane,” he whispers very lowly so I can only hear. “God, I don’t even know why…” he trails off, sighing and shaking his head.

  “Shh. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain; I don’t care either way. Let me talk to Rex. You can take me after.”

  His eyes fly open, face contorting into disbelief and disgust. He releases my wrists, taking a step back.

  I massage the harsh red rings around my wrists. My eyes glance around the corridor and I notice that we have gathered a small crowd of partygoers. They drink from their cups and murmur things among themselves; some even snap pictures and take recording with their phones.

  “I’m going to take Apple home,” Derrick declares, scooping her from the chair and over his shoulder. He places a hand on the back of her thighs, covering her exposed skin from prying eyes.

  Hero scrubs his face with his hand. “Thanks, Dee. Sorry, man. Almost lost it there,” Hero says quietly, placing the bottle back on the table.

  Derrick lifts his chin and they bump fists. “Later, Hero.” Derrick twists his neck to look back at me. “Get those wings fixed, Isabel.”

  I scrunch of my face, rolling my eyes and watch him saunter down the hall with a passed out girl limply hanging over his shoulder.

  “Why do you need to talk to Rex?” Hero asks suspiciously.

  “I just want to tell him happy birthday,” I lie, batting my lashes. The long gulp I took has me buzzing a little. I feel lighter, not drunk yet though.

  Hero’s eyes run the length of my body, disapproving and judging the entire time. “That dress is way too short. I can almost see the color of your panties.”

  I step closer to him and lower my voice to a low octave for his ears only. “I think you’re wrong. It’s not short enough, considering I’m not wearing any panties.”

  Without a word, his fingers curl into my elbow and he drags me down the hallway, through the sea of bodies, out the front door. Hero abruptly stops. I look up to see Rex and all his masculine glory, wearing all black, in his path. “What’s this?” Rex says, his electric blue eyes sliding around Hero to me.

  “Nothing,” Hero replies. His fingers tighten on my elbow and I whimper. “I’m taking her home.”

  Rex studies me for a long moment, his eyes thoroughly taking in my hair, my face, my dress, my shoes, and finally on Hero’s hand at my elbow. His long, steady gaze has gone beyond natural curiosity and makes feel like I’m some kind of foreign object, filed and labeled for further inspection. There’s something about his intense blue eyes
that are so very familiar. “Did you come to wish me happy birthday, Isabel?”

  Hero dips his head down to stare at me expectedly.

  I jerk my elbow free. “Yes.”

  Rex’s eyes shift up to Hero. “I think she wants to stay.”

  “She doesn’t know what she wants,” Hero counters.

  “I think she does. You shouldn’t pressure a lady to do things she doesn’t want to do.”

  “Yeah, you know all about that,” Hero scoffs.

  Rex’s eyes change into something dark and deadly, he flexes his fingers at his side. “I guess you’re right.” Then he smiles, blinding and lethal. His gleaming blue eyes fall back on me and see right through me.

  A wave of panic washes over me and a prickle races down the line of my spine. I grip the back of Hero’s T-shirt, burying my face in the soft material. “I wouldn’t rape her here though, not with everyone watching, unless she’s into that kind of shit? Are you into that, Isabel?”

  “Motherfucker!”

  I feel Hero entire body tense and he lunges forward and then stops abruptly.

  “Hey now,” a female’s voice cautions. “Leave shit way it’s at. Don’t get your hands filthy with it.”

  “Move, Taylor!” Hero shouts.

  “I think you’re absolutely correct. We should move, like to your car. I ran my ass down here, so you owe me a ride back home,” Taylor says, laughing, trying her best to lighten the situation.

  “I think she’s right,” Rex says, his voice tight and serious.

  We, as in Hero and I, begin to move. I lift my head to see a lanky girl, her loosely curly hair midnight under the moon, hauling and dragging Hero by the hand to his black Audi sedan. I shudder as I pass Rex and his fierce glare. I follow Hero, linked by his shirt.

  Hero pulls his keys out and unlocks the doors, the headlights flashing on. My fingers unclench his shirt. Taylor pries opens the door and I’m shoved into the backseat by her. She shuts my door and climbs into the passenger seat and Hero settles in. The doors slam shut and the engine roars to life. “Strap up,” he demands.

  Both sounds of our seat-belts click and Hero presses on the accelerator, sending us flying down the street. My body jolts against the belt that firmly holds me against the smooth leather.

  Chapter twenty-one

  Unclear & Focused

  Hero drives on for a while, stopping at a fast-food place to get us all greasy cheeseburgers, salty fries, and fizzy sodas. Taylor sings “Somewhere over the rainbow” out loud and talks about rainbows nonstop: the color, the size, the texture, when they appear, when they leave, how they form. The conversation about rainbows lasts for what seems like forever. I guess it’s not really a conversation if Taylor is the only one conversing. I would find her enthusiasm and optimistic outlook on life annoying if she wasn’t so sweet and if I didn’t love that song myself. Tyler used to sing the exact same song to me almost every night.

  Hero devours his food and mostly hers too. I pick over my burger and chew on few salty fires, but I don’t have much of an appetite.

  He pulls up into a dirt yard with a brown shotgun house. Rollerblades, big bouncy balls, a red tricycle, a light blue inflatable pool among other things are scattered around the front. This house is in the Parker District, a sketchy side of town where most of the crimes occur. I don’t even know her and I don’t want her to get out the car, it’s just not safe here.

  “Well, this is me,” Taylor announces quietly.

  “Let me walk you to the door,” Hero says just as quietly.

  She looks at him for brief moment and then nods, twisting her neck to glance at me. I can’t tell what her eye color is. They could be green, hazel, or blue. But that doesn’t matter; the shape of her eyes is hypnotizing. They’re wide, almost doll-like and almond-shaped. So pretty, like everything else about her. Her loose curly hair frames her round face perfectly. From what I can see, her skin is clear, smooth and a deep-golden brown. Taylor might be Italian, or Latin, maybe a beautiful combination of both. “Nice to me you, Isabel.” She smiles at me, tender and sinecure. “Sorry about throwing you in the car, but Hero is kinda important to me. You know?”

  I nod and Hero jerks his head. “Kinda important?” he repeats as if the words are completely foreign to him.

  She smiles and laughs. “I mean, super important. I don’t want him to get in any trouble. Rex is trouble, for everyone.” She pauses and puts a hand on Hero’s cheek. I think he blushes a little. “Hero has been through a lot. He doesn’t need more negative things in his life.”

  My eyes shift from Taylor to Hero in sudden awareness. She’s in love with him. Taylor ran all the way to the eastside of town to Rex’s house just to make sure Hero didn’t get into “trouble.” The run might have only been four miles, but still. It’s dark and she lives in a not so safe area.

  “I understand, won’t happen again. Well, at least on my part,” I say, grinning back at her.

  “Thank you,” she whispers gratefully.

  They both glide out the car. They laugh and murmur to one another as they approach the steps towards her small porch. She fishes out a key on long chain from her pocket. Hero digs into his pocket as well and pulls out his wallet. He takes what I assume is cash and tries to hand it to her. She shoves his hand away, saying something I can’t hear or make out. He shakes his head, taking a step forward with his outreached hand towards her. She shakes her head, too. His head dips down and his free hand pinches the bridge of his nose. Taylor wraps her arms around his middle and gives him the tightest embrace. Hero hugs her back, sneaking the wad of cash in her back pocket of her jeans.

  He eases out the hug, kisses her on her forehead and waves, turning his back to her as he makes his way down the steps.

  She bites her lip and sags against the door to watch him leave. Her eyes flicker over to me and I tense.

  She smiles and gives her head a slight shake, waving sheepishly.

  I wave back and watch her unlock the door, open it and disappear into the dark house.

  Hero jogs to the car and around the hood as it begins to rain.

  “She loves you,” I whisper when he glides back into the car.

  Hero starts the engine, looks over his shoulder and reverses out of the dirt yard, effectively ignore me completely.

  “She’s such a nice girl. Taylor shouldn’t be living here.”

  His jaw tenses as he puts the car back in gear. “Where do you want to go, Falcon’s?”

  “No,” I mumble, looking out the raindrop-splattered window. Clasps of thunder begin to rumble and shake the ground. I flinch a few times. Thunderstorms always give me the worse anxiety. I hated them ever since I can remember.

  “I’m heading to Hunter’s to crash.”

  “Perfect,” I say, “is there room for one more?”

  Hero shrugs, indifferent. “He’s not there, so it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Hunter has been getting help outside of town.”

  “Help?” I repeat, confused.

  “Professional help. He’s seeing a psychiatrist and taking anger management classes. He told me what happened between you two, and it really messed him up. Hunter doesn’t want to hurt you; he’s just extreme in everything he does. He has been like that forever. That’s just Hunter.”

  “I know he doesn’t want to hurt me,” I admit, closing my eyes and pressing my forehead to the chilled window, squeezing my wounded hand together to feel the throb of pain. “When will he be back?”

  “I don’t know, maybe sometime late Sunday. You’ll be gone by then.”

  The rest of drive to Hunter’s house is quiet, only filled with the sounds of howling wind, ear-shattering thunder, and pouring rain. The yellow and white illuminating lights from the town fade and then disappear entirely as Hunter drives through the thick, dark forest. A perfect rectangular two story house made of glass, stone, and dark wood comes into view. The house is so spectacularly clear you can see right through it. The wi
nding pebble pathway to the massive oak front door cuts exactly through the large yard with brilliant LED bulbs glowing on either side. His house looks like it belongs here, as if it’s a part of nature’s original design, an immaculate crystal shooting up from the dirt and ferns.

  Hunter and I slam the doors of his car shut and run up to the yard to the opening of the deep porch. He inserts the key into the lock and pushes open the door, gesturing for me to go in first. I scurry inside the dark space, stepping out of my drenched, soggy boots.

  Hero flips the lights in the vast living room on; he scratches his head and looks at me. “Well, you know where everything is. I’m goin’ to bed.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  Hero nods too and then jogs up the spiral staircase. I hear a door shut shortly after. Wandering around the living room, I take in some of the pictures on the bookshelves and white mantel of the stacked stone fireplace. Some of them are of his baby sister, Nya. I think she’s around Tyler’s age. She looks so very different from all of them. Nya’s hair is far from blond, it long and dark, the color of coal. Her eyes are smoky emerald green, and her skin is creamy brown like mine. She’s smiling and has her arm thrown over Hero and Hunter in almost in every photo. Other pictures are of Hunter’s friends from campus and his mother, Grace, with her timeless beauty and sophistication. Hunter and Hero are exact replicas of their mother: golden hair, fair skin, pale eyes, absurdly attractive in every way. But even with all that beauty she’s still an ice queen. Grace is a conservative, religious woman that will gladly destroy and degrade you to prove a point. She hates homosexuals, democrats, anyone with a different opinion than hers, and thinks each race should only reproduce within their own. Grace never cared for my family much; we were everything she despises.

  My eyes roam over more walls, hoping to see a picture of us somewhere. We took a lot pictures when we were together, when we were friends. But in the end there are no photos of Hunter and me. So I don’t understand the ping of disappointment that stings badly. I clearly don’t belong in his life.