Hollywood Lies

by Mari Carr

  After the drama and formality of the initiation ceremony, this meeting was far more relaxed. The Grand Master had unwound the chain and left, seeming to simply disappear into the dark. Before she could wonder what she was supposed to do next, the serious man had appeared and beckoned her to follow him into the darkness.

  She’d felt rather than seen that they’d passed through some sort of doorway or opening. She’d hesitated because of the utter darkness, and the man had paused and reached back, cupping her elbow. They’d walked in darkness for several minutes—during which her relief that the initiation hadn’t included any chalices and bloody daggers faded as each step she took made her surer she was headed for something dark and grisly.

  Instead, she’d been greeted by the dark-haired man’s friendly smile and a dungeon with an incongruous conference table and folding chairs.

  “Why don’t we have a seat?” Her guide pulled out a chair for her.

  Beatrix took a seat as the two men did the same on the other side of the table. They both wore robes, but their hoods were back.

  “Hi, I’m Franco.” The smiling dark-haired man held out his hand. Beatrix shook, sighing inwardly as she saw his wedding ring.

  You don’t really want him anyway. You love Stefan.

  No. She hated Stefan.

  The proof that she was over him was her attraction to Levi.

  “Beatrix,” she said as she shook Franco’s hand.

  “Sebastian,” the other man said. “Welcome to the Trinity Masters.”

  “So, you two are...the welcoming committee?” Beatrix asked with a smile.

  “Yep,” Franco said at the same time Sebastian said, “No. Not exactly.”

  The men looked at one another. Sebastian’s jaw muscle twitched.

  “We—” Sebastian turned to her, “—are going to explain all the rules and traditions of the society so you have clear expectations.”

  “Levi explained all of that when he brought me the invitation.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “No, he would have explained the main things, the biggest perks and a top-level idea of what you’re giving up.”

  “The trinity marriage,” Franco said.

  “Yes, an arranged marriage, meaning no personal choice of spouse, is the primary freedom members have to yield—”

  “What? No,” Franco cut Sebastian off. “That’s the biggest perk.”

  “Franco, would you—”

  “You join up, boom! You don’t have to worry about dating. You’re guaranteed two smart, successful spouses.”

  Beatrix ginned. “When you put it like that...”

  “That’s what I’m saying! We have to change how we recruit. ‘Hate dating and climbing the corporate ladder? We can—’”

  “Levi wouldn’t have given you all the specifics you need,” Sebastian said loudly. “Because many of our traditions and rules aren’t known to anyone who isn’t a full member. The first thing you need to understand is that the Grand Master’s word is law. If you receive a missive—either paper, like your invitation was, or via the special encrypted communication system we use—”

  “Email. It’s email for spies,” Franco interjected.

  Sebastian ignored the interruption as if it hadn’t happened. “—you obey. If you’re summoned to Boston, you come.”

  “If I’m on location or in the middle of a tight filming schedule…” Beatrix looked between them.

  “When the Grand Master summons you, drop everything and come to Boston. No one is exempt. No job is more important.”

  “Oh.” Beatrix looked at Franco for confirmation.

  Franco nodded. “It’s true. But don’t worry, she’ll probably only summon you to get married or if we’re posed on the brink of worldwide nuclear war and she needs you to help.”

  “That, uh, happens?”

  “More often than you’d think,” Franco said cheerfully. “We’ve got a fair number of save-the-world things going on and plenty of dangerous types who are members. This one was a CIA asset.” He pointed at Sebastian.

  “Jesus Christ, Franco.”

  “My husband is a CIA agent,” Franco continued.

  “You can’t tell people that, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Really?” Beatrix leaned forward, excited. “You know I got this spy thriller script and I’d love to talk to someone. A real agent, not the media relations consultant from Langley everyone gets to talk to.”

  “Ta da! That’s one of the things you can have.” Franco did jazz hands. “Access.”

  “Rules,” Sebastian said. “There. Are. Rules. One. We are a secret. You can’t tell anyone about us. Not your parents, not your best friend.”

  “Levi did cover that,” she said cheerfully.

  “Two, when you’re called to the altar—meaning you’re coming to Boston to meet your spouses, you should, if possible, clear your schedule for a month. After you meet your spouses, you are required to spend at least one full week together at the hotel we will provide.”

  Franco looked a bit chagrined. “This is the stuff I forgot last time I did this.”

  “After that, you have three more weeks before you come back to Boston to be officially married in the traditional ceremony of the Trinity Masters.”

  “Definitely forgot to tell Langston that,” Franco murmured.

  “So it’s like an engagement, then a marriage?” Beatrix asked.

  “Yes, though you must understand the first ceremony is binding. It’s actually called the binding ceremony. The month between is considered an early honeymoon, a chance for you and your spouses to get to know one another and start to plan your life together.”

  “So I was supposed to tell our other new member all these little details?” Franco asked.

  Sebastian closed his eyes. “Yes, Franco. You were.”

  Franco looked at Beatrix and mouthed “oops.”

  Beatrix laughed though she didn’t really know what they were talking about, and the residual tightness in her core melted. The Grand Master may have been an imposing, larger-than-life figure—though not actually all that tall—but these were just people. Normal people bound together by an extraordinary cause and secret.

  They spoke for thirty minutes, Sebastian covering everything from when and how she was allowed to access headquarters, how to get in contact with himself and Franco, who were both “advisors” to the Grand Master, and what to expect at the occasional all-member events. She got most of her questions answered.

  How did she know who was a fellow member? She wouldn’t. Some members chose to wear rings, necklaces, or other pieces of jewelry with the triquetra, but it wasn’t required, and was discouraged when you were in the presence of another person you knew was a member, since matching jewelry could raise questions. However, it was hardly a unique symbol, so she couldn’t assume anyone who had a triquetra on was a member, as opposed to simply being someone with an affinity for Celtic jewelry.

  How did it work legally, being married to two people? That was up to each triad. Some chose to have two members of the trinity get legally married, some never legally married at all. Apparently the decision was often made depending on mundane issues like tax liability.

  When would she be called to the altar? It could happen tomorrow, or it could happen ten years from now, though most people were called to the altar before the age of thirty-five.

  Could she go out in public with both of her spouses? Yes, though drawing attention to the alternative lifestyle had traditionally been discouraged, America was changing, so it was up to each triad to choose how they would live.

  Had William Marston, Elizabeth Marston, and Olive Byrne been members? Yes.

  “I knew it,” she said when Sebastian answered.

  “Any other questions?” Franco asked.

  “A million, but...I can’t think of any more of them right now.”

  Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out another creamy envelope. “Your communication access and account details.”


  “Email,” Franco said. “Just call it email.”

  “It’s not just email.”

  Franco sighed. “He talks like this because he was a spy.”

  “I was not a spy.”

  “You were sort of a spy.”

  “If you weren’t married to my best friend, I swear to God I’d stuff you in a trash can.”

  “Hey! That’s just mean. My husband is your boss. Watch it.”

  “He used to be my contact, not my boss. Well, not exactly.” Sebastian shook himself. “I’m sorry, Beatrix. Franco has a singular ability to make me want to day-drink.”

  “Don’t apologize. The conversation topics might not have been all that normal, but this whole thing made me feel...like this really was the right choice.”

  “Then there’s just one more thing we have to do.” Franco placed a box on the table. It was about the size and shape of a checkers’ box. He pushed it across to her. “Choose one.”

  She opened the lid to reveal a beautiful display of jewelry. Rings in graduated sizes and a variety of styles, small pendants, earrings, and even…

  Beatrix looked up. “Are these nipple rings with little triquetras?”

  “What?” Sebastian’s brows rose. “No, we don’t have—”

  “Yeah. Just got them in.” Franco gave her a thumbs-up. “Good spot.”

  “You got…” Sebastian shook his head. “Trinity Masters nipple rings? Really?”

  “What? It was Rose’s idea, and I thought it was a good one. People can wear them without worrying about anyone seeing them.”

  “Never listen to Rose,” Sebastian snapped. “Some people just want to watch the world burn and she is at the top of that list.”

  “She only burned down that one hotel.”

  Beatrix knew they were teasing her, so she smiled and selected a gold cuff-style bracelet. It wasn’t an everyday piece, which was why she chose it. She didn’t have the kind of life that would allow her to wear one piece of jewelry all the time, but she’d wear it at home, when it mattered.

  The men fell silent as they watched her slip it on. When she looked up, they both had serious expressions, though the corners of Franco’s eyes were crinkled with a smile.

  “Welcome to the Trinity Masters.”

  Chapter Seven

  Levi parked his car in the yard behind their duplex and said a few quick mental prayers.

  He’d decided to wait around at the library for Beatrix, though that hadn’t been part of his assigned detail. Luckily the classics section wasn’t far from the rare books collection, and he’d happily browsed while waiting, testing himself by picking up books at random and reading them.

  People complained about Latin, but at least it was logical. Greek gave him heartburn.

  He’d nearly missed her because she’d been so quiet, walking slowly through the library, head down.

  Levi had intercepted her, heart in his throat as he wondered if something had gone wrong. Something that caused her to decline her membership. But she’d smiled up at him, then raised her wrist to show off her new bracelet.

  He’d offered to take her to dinner at the hotel. The Trinity Masters kept the penthouse of Boston Park Plaza for newly formed trinities, but Sebastian had told Levi when he called to say they were coming that he’d make the suite available for Beatrix while she was in town.

  She’d said yes to dinner, but no to the hotel.

  Once in the car, she’d quietly stated that she wished she could meet other members. It was called a secret society, but there wasn’t much of a “society” from her point of view. Levi had shot off a quick text, then started driving.

  She’d been as quiet during the ride as she had been in the library. He supposed the enormity of the commitment she’d just made was starting to sink in.

  Not that she seemed upset by her decision. Just reflective and maybe overwhelmed.

  Now they were here, and he was certain bringing Trixie Stokes home was a mistake. God only knew what awaited them inside. He’d texted his roommates to give them time to prepare. He’d meant “prepare” as in clean up the place and either have Andre start cooking dinner or order something.

  He hadn’t meant “be dumbasses and prepare to make me look like an asshole in front of Bea,” but was fairly sure that’s what was actually about to happen. At least they hadn’t decided to reuse the “Welcome Home Asslicker” banner.

  “This is my house.” Levi cleared his throat. “Well, not my house. It’s where I live. With my roommates.”

  Beatrix perked up, coming out of her introspective mood. “We’re having dinner at your place?”

  “You said you wanted to meet some other members. My roommates are members.”

  They climbed out of the car, but rather than enter the house through the back door, Levi led her around to the front, which was much prettier with its wide steps flanked by stone pots full of flowers.

  He led her to the “B” side door. “It’s a duplex. The guys who live on the other side are members too.”

  “Is that common? Or a rule?” She raised a brow. “Do I need to find roommates?”

  “No. We’re sort of a special circumstance. I’ll tell you about it over dinner.” Unless my roommates are being assholes. In which case he would haul her out of there quick.

  Levi opened the door and carefully peered inside.

  “Um, are we...not supposed to be here?” Beatrix asked from behind him.

  “No. I just don’t trust these fuckers.”

  “Maybe we should eat at a restaurant?”

  “I’d trust them with my life in a combat situation,” he clarified. “I just don’t trust them not to be dipshits.”

  The living room looked good, and someone must have cleaned up because there weren’t any forgotten bottles in the recliner cup holders or dirty socks on the floor.

  “Makes...perfect sense,” Beatrix said as he led her into the house.

  “We’re here,” Levi called out, taking a few steps deeper into the living room. The silence was suspicious.

  “Ah, I think I’m starting to understand what you meant...”

  Levi turned to look at her and saw it. On the front wall, between the two windows where there should have been a beautiful black-and-white image of Boston Harbor, was a large photo of him and Beatrix.

  It was a cropped and edited shot of them from the Magic Castle when they were waiting for her car at valet. He was looking at her, and his eyes had been replaced with large cartoon hearts. Additional hearts were scattered around his head, and then emblazoned across the top in obnoxious hot pink script were the words “Levi Lurves Trixie.”

  “I’m going to kill them.”

  Beatrix was smiling. “I kind of like it. Do you think they’d make me a copy?”

  “Do not encourage them.”

  “Surprise,” Montana called out in an annoying sing-song.

  Levi turned back around to see Montana, Tate, and Andre standing in the doorway. Each of them was grinning like an idiot.

  “Beatrix, these are my roommates. Dumb, dumber, and dumbest.”

  “Nice, Assli—” Montana was cut off when Tate elbowed him.

  Andre pushed past Levi, headed for Beatrix. “Ms. Stokes, welcome to our home. I’m Andre.” He put his arm around her shoulders and started guiding her deeper into the house. “I’m so sorry you were stuck with Levi. Don’t worry, you’re safe now.”

  “Please, call me Bea. That’s what my friends call me. And Levi was an absolute gentleman.” She glanced at him, and her silly smile faded to a more serious expression for a moment. “Maybe too much of a gentleman.”

  What did that mean?

  Tate muscled Andre out of the way. “I’m Tate.” He bowed over her hand, kissing her knuckles.

  “Really?” Levi said. “Really, Tate?”

  “Montana.” He yanked Tate out of the way and shook her hand, glancing at her bracelet. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you. You have a lovely home.”

  “Dri
nks,” Tate declared. “I’ll be bartender.”

  “You just don’t want to do any more KP with this foodie bitch,” Montana grumped, pointing at Andre.

  “Levi, I want you to make the salad dressing. Caesar.” Andre folded his arms over his chest.

  “From scratch?” Levi demanded in outrage. “You know they sell that in the store.”

  “What can I do to help?” Beatrix asked. “I mostly make veggie smoothies, so if you need anything peeled or chopped, I’m your girl.”

  I’m your girl.

  Those three words caused Levi’s stomach to clench in a half-sick, half-hungry way that he knew had nothing to do with needing food and everything to do with wanting to devour her. He was really hung up on that “too much of a gentleman” comment.

  “Think you can handle a Daikon radish?” Andre asked.

  Beatrix snapped her hand up in a salute. “Peeled and thinly sliced for salad, or chunks for roasting?”

  “Salad, and at ease.”

  Beatrix set aside her purse and took off the cute little hat. She reached back and pulled a few pins out of her hair, then took the hair tie out before running her hand through her hair, fluffing it.

  Levi was frozen in place, watching her slide her fingers through long dark hair that was now flowing free around her shoulders.

  His roommates were all watching her too, as transfixed as him. There was something intimate about what she was doing, something she would only do in front of people she trusted. It was also familiar, giving Levi a strange sense of deja vu. That one wasn’t as hard to explain—he’d probably seen her do something similar in one of her movies.

  Beatrix pulled her hair forward over one shoulder and quickly braided it, securing the end with her hair tie. She glanced around and one eyebrow went up. “Never seen a girl play with her hair before, boys?” She winked.

  Levi let out a slow breath. “I already know this is going to be a stupid thing to say, but you’re gorgeous.”

  “Smoking hot,” Montana agreed.

  “Trixie Stokes is in our dining room.” Tate looked around as if waiting for someone to gasp in amazement.