Lies I Told

by Michelle Zink

  Rachel attempted a smile. “We can use all the help we can get.”

  I didn’t want to join prom committee. Didn’t want to plan for a dance that I’d probably never attend. A dance where Logan would lace his hands across the small of some other girl’s back as they swayed to the music in a dimly lit room.

  “Hearts in Atlantis sounds super cheesy,” I agreed. “What else is up for discussion?”

  “Let’s see . . .” Harper thought about it. “There’s Moonlit Forest.”

  “And Bon Voyage,” Olivia added.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Bon Voyage?”

  “I think it’s nautical or something,” Rachel said dismissively.

  “Buoys and anchors and sailor suits?” I laughed. “Sounds awful.”

  Olivia nodded. “Right?”

  “Moonlit Forest could be nice.” I hesitated. “Or . . .”

  “What?” Harper asked. “Do you have an idea?”

  “What about Midnight in Paris?” I suggested. “Like the movie?”

  It wasn’t really my idea. Our school in Phoenix had done a Midnight in Paris theme for prom. It had been romantic despite the fact that I was working a mark named Bradley, keeping him busy while Parker got his sister drunk in an attempt to find out the combo to the family safe holding their mother’s jewelry.

  “Oh, my God, I love that movie!” Olivia said.

  “Paris is always romantic,” Harper said. “Plus, with the movie tie-in, you have the 1920s to play with, too.”

  “That’s true!” I sounded surprised, even though some of the kids in Phoenix had shown up in Gatsby-esque dresses and tuxes.

  “See?” Olivia said. “You should join the committee. We need fresh ideas.”

  For a split second I could see it: brainstorming ideas for the dance, laughing and hanging white lights, getting dressed and putting on makeup together before the guys picked us up in a limo.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said faintly.

  The pizzas came a while later, and everyone gathered around the coffee table to eat. Parker made a trip to the fridge and pulled out another beer. I couldn’t be sure, but he seemed a little unsteady on his feet. I wondered how many he’d had.

  Logan and I sat next to each other on the sofa, talking quietly about school and music and college. It was only the second time in my life that I’d had such an instant connection with someone. Parker had been the first, but our connection had been based on tragedy, on loss, on a shared survival instinct. Where Parker and I had huddled together like survivors in a life raft, Logan was pulling me out into the clear blue sea, teaching me that I could swim. That I could live outside the shelter of the boat that was both my refuge and my prison.

  After dinner we changed into bathing suits and headed outside to the Jacuzzi. The night was chilly by Southern California standards, the salty spray of the ocean mingling with the chlorine-scented hot tub water. I sat next to Logan, wondering if I was feeling flushed from the hot water or from the strangely intimate experience of sitting close to him while both of us were nearly naked.

  I watched the group interact through a surreal kind of haze. I was both part of them and apart from them. I could smile on cue and laugh. I could even participate in the conversation. But I was an actor reciting my lines, playing a part. I felt stupid. Why had I felt like I belonged? I would never, ever be one of them. Would never have that luxury. And I wasn’t talking about their money. They were at ease in one another’s company, drinking beer and making inside jokes and recounting their shared experiences, in a way I’d never been with anybody.

  In a way I would never be with anybody.

  Parker took a swig from his beer bottle and met my gaze across the water, steam rising between us like a veil. It was a reminder, and I rose from the water and stepped out of the Jacuzzi, reaching for my towel.

  “I’m going to get some water. Does anyone want anything?”

  “I’ll come with you,” Logan said, starting to rise.

  “There’s no reason for both of us to drip water through your kitchen,” I laughed. “I’ll be right back.”

  He eased back into the water with a nod.

  I headed for the house.

  Twenty-Nine

  The lawn was dark, lit only at the edges and along the pathway by the landscaping lights. I let myself into the house through the doors off the terrace. It was strangely quiet, a soft glow emanating from the lights under the cabinets in the kitchen. It could have been any kitchen in any house in any city we’d worked.

  I looked around, my mind doing a quick, almost instinctual calculation of the situation. Away from Logan and the others, with the clock ticking, it was easier to remember who I was, and I quickly ran the towel over my body, then wrapped my hair in it to avoid the drip marks that would outline my route through the house.

  I moved through the kitchen and into the hallway, my bare feet silent on the stairs as I made my way to the second floor. My mom’s search of the house at the Fairchilds’ party had been perfunctory. I needed to double-check all the rooms on the second floor, just to be sure.

  I started with the media room. I’d have other chances to check behind the closed doors—probably bedrooms—but Logan seemed to use the media room as his prime hangout spot. It might be a while before I had another opportunity to case it alone.

  I headed for the walls, lined with bookcases. A large safe or panic room would have to be set into one of the walls, and I felt around the bookshelves, hoping for a break. When that didn’t work, I started shuffling books, looking for signs of a hidden room—books that didn’t line up with the alphabetical system clearly in place, bumps that might indicate a thick door hidden in the walls, a change in the sound of my fist rapping against the wood as I made my way down the line of shelves. Nothing seemed out of place.

  I stood there, staring at the shelves and contemplating the merits of looking closer before discounting the idea. I’d been in the house for at least five minutes, probably a little bit longer. If I wanted a look at the other rooms, I needed to hurry.

  I headed for the closed door across the hall from the media room. Its comfortable but nondescript decor suggested a guest room, and I made a quick search of the walls and closet before moving on. I’d made it through another guest room and two bathrooms when I heard the sound of voices. I glanced out the bathroom window and caught sight of Harper and Raj moving toward the house, Logan and the others trailing behind them.

  I did a quick scan of the hallway, making sure everything was the way I found it, before bounding down the stairs. Pulling the towel from my hair, I wrapped it around my body and was just sliding onto one of the kitchen stools when the door opened.

  “Hey!” Logan said. Worry shadowed his eyes, and he crossed the tile floor. “You okay?”

  I dropped my head into one of my hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling very well.”

  He laid a hand on my forehead as the others came in. “Did you get your water?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t make it that far.”

  He crossed the kitchen to the sink and filled a glass with water. “Drink,” he said, pushing the glass toward me.

  “What’s up?” David asked. “You okay, Grace?”

  “I just felt a little light-headed,” I said.

  “Probably the hot tub,” Harper said, toweling her hair dry until it stood up in short spikes around her pixie face. “Logan’s mom likes it hot.”

  “You want to lie down?” Logan asked. “You can take my room if you want.”

  “I should take her home,” Parker said. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes dark. Logan glanced back at him. “Why don’t you stay?” Logan said to him. “I can run Grace home.”

  Parker’s eyes flashed blue fire. Logan was implying he was drunk, and Parker knew it.

  “I’m fine to drive,” Parker said. “I only had three beers.”

  Liam clapped him on the back. “Hate to break it to you, bro, but that’s three too many to make you a safe d
river.”

  Parker shook off his hand and looked around the room. His eyes fell on Logan.

  “Sorry, man. House rules,” Logan said.

  “I can drive,” I said. “I had half a beer two hours ago. And I’m just a little under the weather. I don’t have the plague.”

  “You sure?” Logan asked.

  “She’s sure,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “She’s not made of glass. If she says she can drive, she can drive.”

  Logan nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”

  I got dressed and Logan walked Parker and me to the car. Parker slammed the passenger side door, leaving Logan and me to say good-bye in private.

  I sighed. “Sorry about Parker.”

  Logan gave me a half smile. “Don’t sweat it. He just had one too many beers.”

  “Yeah, but he kind of ruined the mood in there.”

  He pulled me close. “It was just an excuse to hang out with you. Besides, it’s a weeknight. Everyone will be heading home soon anyway.”

  Wrapping my arms around his torso, I felt the ripple of muscle in his back. I inhaled the smell of him—chlorine and trees, surf wax and the sea—and laid my head on his chest.

  “Think you’ll be at school tomorrow?” he asked.

  I looked up at him. “Definitely. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

  He leaned down and touched his lips lightly to mine. “Feel better, Grace.”

  I nodded and got in the car.

  “And text me when you get home safe.” He shut my door.

  I reversed and then put the car into gear, starting down the driveway. It was so dark I could only make out the trees lining the driveway. Beyond them, everything was black.

  Parker sulked, slouched in the seat next to me. I waited until we’d passed the gates, already open when we got there, to speak.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I asked him softly.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Grace?” I thought his words were a little slurred. I was glad Logan and everyone else had put their foot down about him driving.

  “I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.” I was careful. Careful not to violate the rules by saying something I shouldn’t.

  “I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, too,” he said, glaring at me from the passenger seat. “Looking after you.”

  “By getting drunk?”

  “It was a party,” he said. “I thought I was supposed to fit in.”

  I turned onto the main road leading home. “In case you didn’t notice, that’s not exactly what you were doing.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he muttered, turning his head to the window.

  “You shouldn’t,” I said. “You’re not doing us any good acting this way.”

  “And you are?”

  Anger heated my face, rushed through my bloodstream like a wildfire. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “By being Logan Fairchild’s main squeeze?” he sneered.

  I turned onto Camino Jardin, surprised by the hatred I suddenly felt for him. “Yes.”

  “Driving around in the BMW, hanging out at the big house, being wined and dined by Mr. Trust Fund Baby . . . must be tough.”

  The sarcasm in his voice made me want to slap him. I pulled in front of the house and turned off the car. Then I took a deep breath, listening to the tick of the engine as it cooled.

  Finally, I turned to him. “You might not see what I’m doing as important. You might think it’s all fun and games, that I’m enjoying my time with Logan. You might even be right. But while you were getting smashed, acting like a spoiled four-year-old, ignoring everyone we’re supposed to be working, I was casing the house. I was looking for the gold, for cameras along the driveway.” I met his eyes across the darkened car. “What were you doing?”

  I got out and slammed the door. He didn’t follow me inside.

  Thirty

  It was a Friday afternoon in early November when I came downstairs to find the Allied installation team packing up and leaving. Selena had talked me into joining her for a walk at the Cove, and I had come home from school to change into jeans and a sweater. I grabbed an apple from a bowl on the kitchen table as my mom closed the front door on the last of the installation workers.

  “Is that it?” I took a bite of the apple, avoiding her eyes. It had been two weeks since my argument in the car with Parker after Logan’s party, and I still felt guilty about breaking the War Room rule. Parker’s attitude, and my own anger toward him, had made me reckless. I considered confiding in my mom, telling her everything—Parker’s increasingly sullen moods, his unwillingness to integrate with Logan’s group, the darkness that seemed to be eating him alive all over again. But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know what my dad would do to Parker, but he’d already been warned. We weren’t there yet. Things were still under control. More or less.

  My mom nodded, heading for the dishwasher. “I’ll show you how to work the alarm keypad before you go. It’s pretty simple.”

  “Great.”

  “What are you up to tonight?” she asked.

  “I’m going to the beach with Selena, and then we’re going to grab something to eat,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “No Logan?”

  “We’re going out tomorrow night.” I couldn’t tell her that I needed a break from Logan. Not because I didn’t like him, but because I had to brace myself to see him, prepare myself for the war raging almost constantly in my head. The battle between heart and head, a battle that only had one possible outcome.

  “That’s nice,” she said. “Probably better to not to be too available anyway. Keep him interested.”

  I gave her a halfhearted smile as she ran the tap in the kitchen sink.

  “What about Rachel and the other girls?” she asked, loading a few glasses into the dishwasher. “I thought you were focusing on them?”

  Her choice of words was appropriately vague, but I knew what she was getting at: She didn’t think Selena was important. She wasn’t as rich as the others, wasn’t as cemented into the group.

  “Selena’s one of us now,” I explained. “Plus, she’s played the role of observer for a long time. You’d be surprised what she knows.”

  I hated myself for saying it, even if it was true. My friendship with Selena wasn’t about the con.

  My mom nodded. “I can see that.”

  “What are you up to?” I asked, eager to deflect attention away from myself.

  “There’s a board meeting for PHCT. We’re putting the finishing touches on their annual fund-raiser, which as it turns out, is held at the Fairchild house.”

  PHCT was the acronym for the Playa Hermosa Community Theater group. It had become a common topic of conversation around the house ever since my mom had joined the board to get close to Logan’s mom. So far she hadn’t had much luck, and I wondered if Leslie had some kind of bullshit detector that made her suspicious of my mom. Deep down, I think I was rooting for Leslie, hoping she would somehow steer clear of the toxic manipulation that was part of every con.

  “That sounds nice,” I said.

  My mom laughed. “If hanging out with a bunch of bored housewives is what you consider nice.”

  Isn’t that what you are? I thought. I bit it back, shaking my head against the tide of hostility that that seemed to be seeping from my pores, leaking like an oil spill contaminating the waters of my relationship with my mom. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Nothing the rest of us weren’t doing, anyway.

  I reached over and gave her a spontaneous hug, startling her as she shut the door to the dishwasher.

  She laughed. “What’s that for?”

  “Just a reminder that I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Gracie.” She gave me a squeeze and smoothed my hair. “Have fun tonight.”

  I grabbed my bag and the keys to the Saab and headed outside. I had no idea where Parker was, but he’d left the car, so I figured it was fair game. I was almost to the driveway whe
n I heard the crooning from next door.

  They said someday you’ll find

  All who love are blind.

  I hesitated, feeling the draw of the fence. Why was I compelled to look? The man next door had nothing to do with me. With us.

  I hurried past the fence and to the car.

  After I picked up Selena, we headed to the Cove. I parked, and we snaked our way down the cliff and stepped onto the empty beach. The sky was heavy with clouds. They hung over the ocean, turning the water steely gray, blocking out what little sunlight remained in the day. I zipped up my jacket and stuffed my hands in the pockets.

  “It’s quiet,” I said.

  She nodded. “It’s the weather. And the time of year. After October, everyone kind of hunkers down for the winter.”

  I laughed. “It’s not like it’s super cold or anything.”

  She smiled. “Says the girl from San Francisco.”

  It was a reminder of my betrayal, and my laughter faltered. “So what are you saying? You guys are wimps in SoCal?” I joked.

  “Basically. Most of the parties will be held indoors now, or on someone’s patio.” She looked around as we made our way to the water’s edge. “It’s why I like it so much this time of year.”

  I looked around and smiled. The fact that Selena preferred overcast skies and an empty beach was just one more sign that we were kindred spirits.

  It was too cold to take off our shoes, and we walked just out of the water’s reach, the rhythm of the waves like a mantra, slowly calming the endless loop in my head. The one that was always rehearsing what to say next, rehashing what had already been said, plotting my next step. Selena’s company helped, too. She had never even asked about Parker, about the way he’d acted at Logan’s party. It was one of the things I loved about her: she had no need to label or define things. They were what they were.

  We walked in silence until the Strand, a stretch of concrete that ran all the way from the Cove to Malibu, was in sight. Then we turned around and headed back the way we came.

  “I think about her a lot when I come here,” Selena suddenly said.

  I looked over at her. “Your mom?”