The Perfect Liar

by Debra Lynch

  Levi stalked over to my security cameras. “Don’t even bother,” I called after him. “They sprayed them out.”

  “Fucking cowards.”

  “Probably kids. You know how crazy things get here in the summer. I promise. I’ll get them fixed tomorrow.”

  “Why should you be liable?”

  “I can afford it. You came to my house for dinner, let’s enjoy it. I’ll make sure the cameras get fixed and call the cops. Tell them to patrol the neighborhood.” I ran my hand jerkily through my hair. “I’ll tell them I heard kids knocking over mailboxes or something. Just don’t want our insurance to go up. It’ll go up by forty percent,” I added quickly. “You know it will.”

  Finally, Levi relented. But I wasn’t able to relax. What if when Levi called an Uber to take him home, Dennis sat crouched in the dark ready to pounce?

  I convinced Levi to spend the night in my guest room, telling him there was a Roger Corman movie marathon that night (I knew he loved those cheesy movies, God love him). There’d be no point in going home in the middle of the night. Honestly, I don’t know what else I told Levi to keep him there without turning into a hysterical female.

  Maybe I wanted Levi to protect me; maybe I was worried about his safety. All I know is I kept having visions of the bloodied up man on the beach and was damned if Levi would walk into one of Dennis’s traps that night.

  This was my nightmare. I started it, I was going to see it through.

  The next morning when I walked out to my car, I jumped back like a snake bit me when I spotted, in one inch high letters, the word SLUT scratched into the driver’s door.

  Twelve

  When I entered The Sofa Haus in Fashion Island, I spied Dennis relaxing on a goose down sofa, a pair of earbuds in his ears. I stopped for a second and surveyed the showroom. Imported Italian leather couches, sectionals made out of what looked like fabric that was probably hand-stitched out of rare Emu feathers. Even a sofa that looked like the piping was bordered with a pure gold filament. Nothing but the best for His Majesty.

  God, I hated Dennis. My eyes squinted as I scrutinized him. His beard had been neatly trimmed, he wore what looked like a new silver ring, and of course, the stupid “going steady” bracelet was firmly attached to his wrist. He’d made sure to scoop it up from the dust and debris after his failed suicide attempt. He wore a pair of black skinny jeans and a baggy sweatshirt to hide his scrawny chest. His eyes were closed as he listened to the tunes emitting from his earbuds.

  I stalked over to him, my heart racing, my blood pounding through my ears, and yanked the earbuds out of his ears.

  He snapped his eyes open and snatched the earphone. “Hey!”

  The heat rose up my neck as I towered over Dennis, hands on hips. “This has got to stop!”

  He airily dismissed my directive with a wave of his hand. “Not my fault you leave your cars in plain sight. Did you call the cops?”

  “No. I covered for you,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Dennis stood up abruptly and faced me. He stood so close that I could feel the heat of his breath when he spoke. “You told me Levi was only a work colleague. You told me you were going home to review videos your students sent in.” A vein pulsed on his pale forehead, and he jabbed me in the chest with his index finger. “When I looked through the window it looked like home-sweet-home, all romantic.”

  I jumped back. “Yeah? When I looked on the deck it looked like the Night Stalker was out there.” My lips curled when I spoke. “Been taking lessons from Richard Ramirez?”

  He pushed past me and strode through the showroom. “He’s using you.” I followed close on his heels, and when he turned around quickly, we nearly collided. His voice was laced with acid. “I saw the way he looked at you last night. Oh yes. I was there for longer than you think. I saw that ridiculous man laughing and chatting.” Dennis’s body vibrated with rage when he pointed at me, his voice high pitched. “He actually touched your butt! What the fuck, Rachel? That didn’t look like a colleague to me.” Dennis made a big display of making air quotes around the word colleague.

  His fists clenched. “You want to know what happened? He came into the store wearing your going steady bracelet. Do you want to know how that made me feel? No? Well let me tell you exactly how it felt. It felt like somebody ripped my heart right out of my chest. Ripped it out and stomped on it ’til it was nothing but a bloody mess in the dirt.”

  I glanced around wildly. “Lower your voice.”

  “Don’t you tell me what to do. Are we s?”

  “I told you. We are.”

  “Good friends?”

  “Yes.”

  He jabbed a finger at me and raised his voice so loud I figured the whole store would hear. “So you tell Levi to give back the fucking bracelet.”

  A few shoppers turned to stare, and I was certain several of them recognized me. It was always like this. I’d gotten used to it long ago and gave them my superstar smile. When no one was looking, I grabbed Dennis’s arm. “Shh! Let’s talk this out.” I herded him toward a sofa, and we sat down. “He’s part of my work.”

  He folded his arms tightly and looked away. “Best thing you can do is fire him and forget about that special episode you two have planned.” When he looked at me, his brown eyes looked like the devil’s. “You wouldn’t want me to have to deal with Levi on my own now would you?”

  I gasped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. All I’m saying is his intentions are not good. Not good at all.”

  My heart nearly burst out of my chest as it beat hard against my ribcage. How dare he tell me what to do? How dare he mess with my relationship with Levi? Levi was a thousand times the man Dennis would ever be. I nearly stalked out of there right then, headed over to the high priced knife store, grabbed a Samurai sword, and hacked Dennis to death. Patience, grasshopper.

  My voice was syrupy sweet when I spoke, my smile a grim reaper grin. “Well you better just get used to it because Levi is my business partner.”

  A nerve twitched above his eye. “And what am I?”

  I wanted to laugh out loud. What was he? He was a dirty blackmailer who’d served time for manslaughter. And those were his good points. But I didn’t say that. I’d say anything I had to say to keep him on my side until the day after tomorrow. “You’re … you’re my friend.”

  He smiled, and I wanted to throw up. “Your good friend? Maybe even more?”

  I swallowed twice. “Your good friend.” I couldn’t bring myself to say “maybe even more” so we left it at that.

  He stared me in the eye as I held my breath. Then he clapped his hands together like he was throwing a freaking party. “Okay then. Let’s pick out a new couch.”

  I had no proof that Dennis smashed our windshields, so what the hell was I supposed to do? He had that damn video over my head. Otherwise, I would’ve yelled the worst obscenities anyone in Newport Beach or the most crime-infested cities had ever heard. I would’ve taken him back to the train tracks and tied him there myself.

  I don’t even want to say how much that sofa set me back. Whatever the price, it was worth it.

  I’d have to be hyper-vigilant when it came to Levi. Call him during the day, make sure we’d be together as much as possible lest Dennis got some wild idea about stalking him or hurting him. If he harmed Levi, I couldn’t be responsible for my actions. Visions of stabbing, shooting, and maiming Dennis clouded my consciousness. Walking talking, Jesus. Sometimes I’m afraid of what I’m capable of.

  Dennis Smith, you have no idea who you took on. I may have lied about a lot of things, but on this, I was dead serious.

  I was going to get even.

  The following day Levi and I sat in my video recording room hashing out the script for the anniversary special episode.

  “I like your idea,” he said. “The one about your dad. You always tell me how much he inspired your work, how we have to use the unexpected passing of loved ones and make it mean so
mething.”

  I bit my lower lip. If Levi only knew the half of it. I’d told him the bits I thought appropriate. “They have been writing in begging for more.” I wanted to open up to my beloved viewers. Not necessarily the whole truth.

  Levi nudged my knee. “I love the story about the rare coin.”

  I smiled. “That was a fun one.”

  He placed his elbow on the table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. I gazed at Levi, and my eyes nearly filled with tears. Levi was so trusting. He had no idea the predicament I’d put him in. But it couldn’t be helped. I’d keep an eye on Levi. I’d protect him with my own life if I had to.

  “Tell me again.”

  My cheeks heated up, but I told the story anyway. “I’d walk into the Newport Beach tennis club with a silver coin in my pocket. Anybody asked I’d say I had a friend who was a member.”

  “Did you?”

  I looked at Levi with wide eyes. “Of course I did. I had friends everywhere.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’d sit at the counter, order up a coke, pull the coin out of my pocket and start crying. The minute one of those rich parents asked what was wrong, I’d show them the coin, tell them I spent the last of my allowance money on it because somebody told me it was worth a bunch of money. Told them I spent ten whole dollars on it.” I smiled at the memory. “Then I’d set the coin on the counter, sniff hard and say I needed to go to the bathroom.

  “While I was gone Daddy would show up, chat up the parent and notice the coin. He’d tell them he was a coin collector, and can you believe it? ‘That’s a rare 1926 quarter that the mint printed incorrectly. See right here? It’s supposed to say In God We Trust but they somehow left the W out. This thing’s worth at least five thousand dollars.’

  “Then Daddy would ask them if they’d be interested in selling. Naturally, the parent would do the right thing and say sorry, it’s not mine to sell. Daddy would produce an official-looking business card. Alexander Tritan, Precious gems and coin specialist—and beg them to call if the owner said it was for sale. Daddy would glance at his watch, say he had an appointment, and leave.

  “Next thing, I’d show up, flick my braids over my shoulders, finish my soda and blow my nose hard on a napkin. The greedy parent would beg me to sell, and next thing you knew, I was one thousand dollars richer.”

  Levi slapped his thigh. “That one gets me every time.”

  I leveled him with my gaze. “You don’t really expect me to tell that story on the show, do you?”

  He sat forward, and his eyes were so kind. I swallowed. I didn’t deserve him. “I think it makes you human. You were just a kid.”

  “But we scammed people.” Daddy was fantastic at the art of the con. How was what I did for a living so different? I didn’t exactly scam people. I gave them what they wanted—a great yoga routine, the inside scoop on the happenings in the Laguna Beach yoga scene. In return, sponsors gave me money. Lots of it. But the viewers didn’t know the real me.

  “You don’t have to tell them all the details. Just a tease. Just talk about how your dad wasn’t perfect and that’s what makes us what we are.”

  But my dad was perfect. To me, anyway. “The yoga crowd loves that kind of stuff.”

  “Exactly my point. How many people do we get letters from every day telling us bizarre stories about the horrible things that’ve happened to them?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Levi was right. We received daily letters from viewers who were married to alcoholics. Were abused as children, were raped, kidnapped, victims of car accidents, people who’d lost both parents young. “But do they really want to relive it?”

  “They want to move on. Deal with it. That’s why they’re here. They look up to us. They don’t want to hear about how perfect we are. They want to know we’ve been through the same stuff they have.”

  I gave him a sad smile. “Kind of like Oprah with her weight problems.”

  “She’s been through worse. That’s why people love her. I say you give the viewers a bit about what happened when your dad died. You know. How you made it through.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. I loved my students and wanted them to know how important it was to accept your past. Embrace it. No matter what it was or how traumatic. Maybe I needed to learn this more than my students. My gaze drifted to meet Levi’s caring eyes, and I sat up straight. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll come up with something personal to talk about on the special.”

  “Great. By the way, any idea who smashed our windshields? Any repeat performances in the ‘hood?”

  Matter fact, I do know. He’s a vicious murderer, and he’s after me. Probably you, too. “Nah. Probably kids.” I wouldn’t meet his gaze, and I picked at my nails. “They’re spoiled brats these days, you know.”

  “Hey.” He placed two fingers under my chin and made me look at him. “You’ve been off lately. What’s up?”

  I turned my head away. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie. Something’s up. You’ve been jittery, you tell me you’re not sleeping, and last time I asked you if you wanted to go to In-N-Out for our monthly cheat you said no.” He let out a huge sigh. “You never say no. Not to In-N-Out.”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “You forget I act for a living. And I know when you’re acting. Now tell me what’s up.”

  I could’ve blurted out the whole story right then. But I didn’t. All I needed was until tomorrow night. Then I’d tell him. Swear on my life, I’d fess up. The whole lurid tale. Most of it. Okay, some of it. The parts he needed to know. Promise.

  My phone rang. When I saw it was Dennis, I snatched it up. “I have to take this. Be right back.” When I left the room, I glanced back, and the concerned look on Levi’s face didn’t escape me.

  I stood on the deck and hissed into the phone. “What is it?”

  “Is that any way to greet your friend? Your good friend?”

  “Hello, Dennis.”

  “I need you to meet the delivery guys. They’re bringing my sofa tomorrow at three.”

  I nearly clapped with glee. Oh goody. I’d get to put my plan into action. “I—” I was about to say I’d be there, but Dennis just had to take control by yammering in my ear.

  “I’m not asking you, Rachel. I’m telling you. Or have you forgotten something?” His voice sounded vile, like black smoke emitting from the mouthpiece. I quite enjoyed listening to Dennis throw himself into a conniption fit.

  “I’m sure you’ll illuminate me.”

  “I’ll what? Shut up with your fancy words and show up at my place tomorrow at three. You promised to redecorate my house, and I expect you to be there when I say. Some of us are not rich and famous, you know. Some of us actually collect a paycheck like normal folks.”

  I looked into the other room where Levi sat scribbling notes. I only needed until tomorrow, and it couldn’t come fast enough. “I’ll be there at—”

  “You better be! Or do I need to call your business partner or colleague or whatever the hell you call him and—what’s that fancy word?—oh yeah, illuminate him about how you’ve been spending your free time? Where I come from they call it felony theft, breaking and entering, and vandalism.”

  I was about to ask him to leave the key when he barked out, “Be there at three.”

  “I don’t have a key.”

  “Never stopped you before.”

  Jeez. Throw a tantrum, why don’t you? I would’ve told him to save his hysterics until after I’d put my plan into effect, but what do you know, the line went dead.

  Long after he hung up, I stared at the phone and smiled.

  When I arrived at Dennis’s house the next day, the door was unlocked. How very thoughtful of my best fucking friend.

  I tiptoed through the living room, unwilling to touch anything, my festering rage toward Dennis seething through my veins. I kicked his ratty sofa hard and then glanced up at all corners of the room. Wherever he’d hidden his cameras, I had to hand it to him b
ecause they were invisible. I smoothed down my hair and set the paint can down.

  He’d done his best to clean up the pigsty, but I still noticed a few shards of glass embedded into the dirty carpet. The books he’d haphazardly restacked onto the bookcase and the printed out photos of Yours Truly were nowhere to be found.

  First thing I did was move the sofa and got to work on covering over the artwork I’d left Dennis. I personally thought it was a lovely touch in his otherwise dreary space.

  It took three coats to completely obscure the blood-red scrawled message, but when I was done, my angry words were nowhere to be seen. Like it never happened. Next, I painted over the charming proclamation I’d scribbled over his bed, noticing that his despicable shrine was gone. I covered my mouth with one dainty hand and thought to myself, Oh Dennis. For me? You shouldn’t have.

  A sharp rap on the door broke my reverie. “Sofa Haus!”

  “Coming!” I trilled.

  Two men greeted me. “Where do you want it?”

  “Against this wall. Leave some room, please. I just painted.”

  One of the men said, “We’ll be careful. You want us to haul the old one out, right?”

  “You got it.” I put on my best movie star smile. “Your manager told me you could take everything away,” I said, the lie jumping off my tongue. I gestured around the room. “All of it.”

  One man narrowed his eyes. “They told you that?”

  “Sure did.”

  “They’re not supposed to say that. I don’t know if we can—”

  “I’ll pay you.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my wallet. “Please?”

  The man stared at me for long moments, and then he snapped his fingers. “Hey! I know you. You’re from that YouTube thing.”

  I smiled bigger. “I am.”

  “My kids love it. You ought to see the pretzels they turn into trying to do those yoga moves.”

  I smiled brightly, my mouth cramping from the ongoing gaiety, and said, “Well tell them thank you. And to keep bending. It’ll keep them young.”