Half Truths: An Opposites Attract Romance

by Rachael Brownell

  “Hey, Chuck.”

  “Alex! Good to hear your voice. How are things?” He’s a little too chipper for my taste right now. He wants to be buddy-buddy, but I’m not interested. I pay him to take care of business. I have no interest in playing a round of golf with him when I get home.

  “You tell me. You’re the one that called. You must have some news.”

  “I do. Your parents are convinced you and Daphne are in Europe. They boarded a plane this morning to go find her. I thought you might want to know.”

  They took the bait. Perfect! That should hold them off for a few weeks.

  “Thanks. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  “I’m not sure how you managed to do it, but you got them off the scent.”

  How the hell did he know? It’s like he’s a damn detective and not a lawyer.

  “Let’s just say I know my parents. They’re easy to manipulate if you dangle the right type of bait in front of them.”

  Chuck laughs and I can almost see him leaning back in his over-sized office chair, feet up on his dark, mahogany desk. His hair is slicked back, appearing wet as if fresh from a shower, but it’s actually an overabundance of gel. A five o’clock shadow has more than likely started to appear, peppering his chin and upper lip with dark black and gray hairs. The man looks good for his age. He’s in pristine shape and takes care of himself. Most importantly, he’s smart as fuck and damn good at what he does.

  There’s a rustle in the hallway, and when I lean back and look, I find Phoenix standing on the threshold waiting to be invited in. I wave him over, and he happily takes a seat next to me.

  “Look, Chuck, I have to let you go. I have company right now.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll keep you posted if I hear anything else. Keep up the good work, Alex. A reservation in Spain next might be a good move.”

  Good idea. My mother’s been wanting to visit Spain for years, but my father prefers Italy and France. Maybe a trip to Spain should be in their future.

  Ending the call, I toss my phone on the table and look over at Phoenix. “Ready for the weekend, bud?”

  “Yup.”

  “Homework?” I ask, knowing he’ll be in trouble if it’s not done before he starts goofing off with me. I don’t need to give Harley a reason to be upset with me or cancel our date tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll manage to do that on my own just fine.

  “Nope. I only have a week left of school, and the teachers aren’t giving any more. I’m almost free,” he shouts, throwing his hand in the air.

  I remember that feeling. A little over a month and a half ago when I graduated from Cambridge, it was like I was finally free to do what I wanted. To start living my life. I didn’t owe anyone anything anymore. Not my time. Not an assignment. Or a presentation.

  I could do whatever I wanted to do when I wanted to do it.

  So that’s what I did. I went home intending to take a job at my father’s real estate firm. I was going to follow in his footsteps the way he wanted. The way I’d been groomed. I’d gotten the degree I needed in business management, and I was ready to make a name for myself and live the lifestyle I had become accustomed to over the years.

  But life isn’t always as great as you imagine it will be. I may have had a degree, but I wasn’t ready to put up with the bullshit that came along with working for my father. Especially after I showed up at his office unannounced and walked in on his secretary sucking his dick while he was on a conference call.

  In only her bra and skirt, her blond hair blocked her face as her head bobbed up and down between his legs while he discussed a large development with investors. With her back to me, she didn’t notice me walk in, but he did. He didn’t miss a beat, didn’t lose his train of thought, and continued with his calls as he pointed for me to leave, never alerting his secretary to my presence or the fact she was caught on her knees.

  Oh hell no!

  I may have looked up to him, been groomed to be him most of my life, but I wasn’t about to be a cheating bastard. Or work for one.

  That was the day I threw it all away. And the day only got worse from there.

  I went back to my parents’ house to pack up what little belongings I kept there and found my sister passed out on her bed. Barely breathing. Two empty bottles of pills on the floor.

  This wasn’t the life I wanted. It never was, but I was willing to give it a shot. I was willing to try and make it better than I knew it was to make my father proud.

  It was an eye-opening week. I had nothing and no one. I almost lost Daphne. I gave up the only job I had planned for. I was months away from having access to my trust fund and living on what little I had saved up in college from the ‘allowance’ my parents provided me with every month. It was always more than I needed, but they kept feeding my account, and I never stopped them. Instead, I moved any leftover money into a private savings account they didn’t have access to.

  “Summer vacation is my favorite holiday,” Phoenix says, reaching for the controller and scrolling through the games.

  “It’s not a holiday.”

  “When you’re my age, it is. I don’t have to get up early. I don’t have homework. I don’t have to eat crappy school food. It’s great.”

  I miss my youth. Everything looked so bright at that age. The world was still a good place. My parents hadn’t let me down yet. My dreams hadn’t been destroyed.

  “What else do you plan on doing on your extended holiday break?” I ask, leaning back on the couch, realizing I enjoy his optimism and company more than I expected. Both of which are exactly what I need right now after the day I’ve had.

  “The beach. Harley’s let me walk over there by myself a few times as long as I promise to use the crosswalks and bring the pepper spray.”

  Harley. The dark-haired beauty he doesn’t call mom. I need to know why.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  He nods but doesn’t look in my direction.

  “Why do you call your mom by her first name?”

  “She was young when she had me, so I’ve always called her that,” he answers quickly.

  “How young?” I find myself inquiring. I shouldn’t be asking him these questions. It’s not fair to him. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.

  “Fourteen.”

  Yup, that’s young. At fourteen I remember being a pimple-faced boy trying to figure out how to navigate the halls of high school, scared to look at the wrong person. It was before my growth spurt. Before I filled out and made friends. It was a tough time. I can’t imagine what it was like for her to be pregnant at that age.

  Did her friends shun her? Embrace her? What about the other kids? The father? Did they help her? Her parents? How did they feel about all this?

  I have so many questions, none of which are appropriate to ask Phoenix. Most of them are too invasive to ask Harley at this point. So, I let the conversation fade into the background as Phoenix starts asking about one of the games I bought the other day. A shooter game that he probably shouldn’t play but I let him anyway.

  I’ll deal with Harley later if she’s mad about it. It’ll give me an excuse to talk to her. One way or another I will get the answers I’m desperately seeking.

  10

  Harley

  * * *

  It’s scary how much we have in common.

  We like the same music. Want to travel to the same places someday. Love the beach and prefer running over any other form of exercise. We’re both fans of football, though he’s a Bears fan and I’m a Cowboys girl in my heart. I don’t have to be from Texas to appreciate great football. That’s why they’re called “America’s Team.”

  I’m more of a morning person, up at five o’clock every day so I can get in a short run before work, whereas he’s a night owl, unable to fall asleep most nights because his brain refuses to shut down.

  I understand that concept. I’ve lain awake in bed every night since meeting him. Thoughts of him consuming me. It mak
es me wonder what keeps him up at night.

  He sticks with broad topics, avoiding asking me anything personal, and I’m grateful. I hate having to lie to people, but it’s a necessary evil, and if he’d asked me something I couldn’t or didn’t want to share with him, I would have told him a lie without thinking twice.

  Still, the looks he’s giving me from across the table right now are causing my heart to race, hammering against my chest. The sound of his laugh when Phoenix tells his silly jokes that aren’t even remotely funny brings a smile to my face. And maybe it’s the wine talking, but the way he holds his fork, as if he’s caressing it, has me crossing my legs to alleviate the ache inside me.

  Phoenix leaves us to play online games with his friends in the bedroom. I was confused when he moved his gaming equipment in there earlier considering the TV is much smaller, but it all makes sense now. Once again, he’s found a way to give us time alone, whether I’m okay with it or not.

  “He’s a great kid,” Alex says, nodding his head toward my closed bedroom door.

  “Thank you.” My heart swells with pride. I’ve done my best raising Phoenix, and he’s turned out just fine. He’s adjusted every time we’ve had to pick up and go. He never complains and always sticks to the rules. Not to mention he’s a great student and makes friends easily.

  One of my main concerns was that I wouldn’t be able to undo the damage my mom had caused before I graduated. I stopped worrying about that years ago. Phoenix is a smart kid. Even at such a young age, he knew what mom was doing was wrong, and I’ll be forever grateful that he didn’t succumb to her ways.

  If there’s anything I’ll thank my mother for one day, it’ll be the fact she set the standard of what not to do. The type of person not to be. When I think back on what I saw and went through, I see her as an example I don’t want to follow. When faced with a situation, if my mother would do it, I won’t. It’s that simple.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You say that a lot. You ask a lot of questions. Why?” I ask, attempting to deter him from inquiring about anything I don’t want to talk about.

  “Well, you can’t get to know someone if they don’t offer any information. Sometimes you have to ask.” A sinister smile spreads across his face.

  “And what if I don’t want to answer?”

  “Lie to me. I’ll never know.” The humor in his voice catches me off guard. As if lying is no big deal if it doesn’t hurt the other person.

  I was planning to lie to him anyway, but now that he’s given me permission, it makes me resent having to do it. A necessary evil, I remind myself. My lies are what keeps my life simple. People like Alex complicate things.

  “One question.”

  “But there are so many I’m dying to ask,” he replies, sticking his lip out as if he’s trying to pout, but his smirk remains firmly in place. When I don’t give in, he continues. “You know, you could always ask me questions too. One for one. Two for two. What do you think?”

  I think there are plenty of things I want to know about him but plenty I don’t want to share about myself. Still, I’m intrigued, so I nod my head and pray he doesn’t dig too deep. I’d like to keep my skeletons hidden as deep in my closet as I can for now.

  “Where’s Phoenix’s father?”

  And here we go…

  “He died in a car crash when Phoenix was a little boy.”

  “That’s awful. And you’ve been doing this on your own ever since? That must be hard.”

  “That’s a statement, not a question. My turn,” I retort, tucking my leg beneath me and turning to face him on the couch. He’s sitting at one end, and I’m pressed against the arm at the other. The couch seats three comfortably, but it feels much smaller with him here. “Who raised your sister after your parents died? I know you were away at college.”

  I immediately want to smack my head against the wall when I realize what I’ve just done. Daphne’s file didn’t tell me Alex was in college when his parents died. I had to do a little digging to figure that out. That meant looking into him, finding out he went to Cambridge, and looking for his parents’ obituaries, which I couldn’t find. The timeline didn’t make sense when I realized he only graduated a few months ago.

  “The staff, which is a big part of why she fell so fast and so hard. They couldn’t keep an eye on her all the time. Neither could my parents, but the staff didn’t sign on to babysit. I doubt they were that invested in Daph’s wellbeing.”

  Staff? Where the hell did he live?

  “What staff?”

  “Nope. My turn. Your name… I feel like there’s a story there.”

  This question. I swear, every person I meet comments on my name. How unique it is. Asks if I was conceived on the back of the motorcycle with the same name.

  Well, I was, and it’s a shitty story. Not something I’m proud of, though one would think my mother was. She told me the story over and over again about how she met my father, had a one-night stand that was more than she bargained for, and named me after the motorcycle I was conceived on.

  “Use your imagination. Most people do,” I counter, rolling my eyes.

  “I’d rather hear it from you. My imagination likes to run wild.”

  I bet it does. From the sound of his voice, he likes where his imagination is taking him.

  “My parents got freaky on my dad’s motorcycle. End of story.”

  “And Phoenix? Is there a story there too?”

  “Conceived in the city he’s named after.”

  Not as interesting as how I got my name but still a unique way to name your child. My mother was nothing if not a little odd.

  “Is that where you’re from?”

  “That’s two questions I’ve answered. My turn. What staff, Alex?”

  He draws in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His smirk has disappeared, and his face takes on a serious look. I’ve only seen this look on his face one other time, and it was the moment he walked through the front doors of the rehab center. It’s etched in concern, but why? What is he hiding?

  “My parents had money. A lot of it. They hired people to take care of the house like you see on TV. We had a live-in cook, two maids, and a gardener. When they died, I kept them on as caretakers, and they watched Daph until I could come home.”

  “How long ago did they die?” I ask as I fidget with the fringe of the blanket on the back of the couch to keep from looking at him.

  “Three months.”

  I let the room fall silent as his truth sinks in. Three months isn’t a lot of time to heal. It’s not long enough to deal with all the emotions that come with losing a parent, and he lost both of his. The counselor in me wants to probe him and find out his mental state. I push those thoughts away and allow the caring side of me to console him the only way I can. With words.

  “I’m so sorry. Losing a parent is hard, I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose both at the same time.”

  Alex is quiet for a long moment before he finally responds. “It was, but my parents weren’t exactly all-stars when it came to parenting. They weren’t going to win any awards. Daphne’s issues started long before they died. Their death may have compounded her problem, but it wasn’t the start of it.”

  That’s a contradiction to what her file says. Everything in there was given to us by Alex. It’s all vital information to her recovery. If her addiction started long before her parents died, that means it wasn’t her stressor and I may need to rethink her recovery plan. Which reminds me of the fact she’s holding onto her anger toward Alex for abandoning her. Was that her real stressor? Is he to blame for her fall after all?

  Of course I can’t share any of this with him. It would be a breach of confidentiality. I can’t tell Vivian because that would mean admitting I’m seeing Alex outside the office. With the progress we’ve made, I’m not ready to give up on Daphne yet. I’m not ready to hand her off to another counselor. I’d hate to see her progress come to an abrupt halt or, worse, dis
appear.

  “My turn,” he declares, interrupting my thoughts before they can get away from me. “How long has it been since you’ve been with a man?”

  I whip my head in his direction, my jaw dropping open. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to ask me, but it wasn’t that.

  “That long, huh?” he asks when I don’t reply. Heat from embarrassment rushes into my cheeks.

  “No,” I lie.

  “That doesn’t answer the question, Harley.”

  He practically purrs when he says my name, my insides heating up at the sound of his voice. Damn him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s doing it on purpose.

  “A while but probably not as long as you think.”

  “You only have one bedroom,” he states, pointing out the obvious.

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “You can’t exactly bring a man back to your place. I’m sure you don’t introduce them to Phoenix without a vetting period. So when is the last time you were on a proper date? The last time you let loose?”

  When was the last time? A year? Fourteen months? I don’t even remember. Phoenix wanted to stay the night at a friend’s house for their birthday, so I finally agreed to a date with the barista at the coffee shop I always go to. He was nice enough but kind of a freak in the sheets. I was fully prepared to turn him down for a second date when he disappeared. He was fired from the coffee shop for stealing from the register.

  I picked a real winner. A thief. And I slept with him on the first date because it was going well and I needed that level of human connection. If he hadn’t tried to slip it in the backdoor, I may have called him. I’m pretty sure he left here knowing he’d fucked up.

  “Longer than it’s been for you I’m sure. My turn. What—”

  “How. Long.” His words are pointed as he scoots closer to me, placing his hand on my thigh. My body heats at his touch, my leg burning like it’s on fire.

  “Over a year,” I say, attempting to swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat.

  “That’s a damn shame is what that is, Harley. Too long. You should take care of yourself more often.”