Blake Blessing
Pretty Lies
Copyright © Blake Blessing 2019
All rights reserved
First published in 2019
Blessing, Blake
Pretty Lies: Astrid Scott Series #1
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover: Simply Defined Art
Editing: Heather Long
Proofread: Zoe’s Author Services
Formatting: Rainbow Designs
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
12. Beck
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
16. Rhys
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
21. Thatcher
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
26. Jonah
To be continued in Ugly Truths…
Marks of the Mazza
In the mind of Blake
Who is Blake?
Also by Blake Blessing
This school was smothered in lies.
But what school wasn’t?
The picture on the screen captured Silver Ranch High School’s most darling sweethearts. Smiling at each other, saccharine sweet, like no one would ever understand their secret love, or even existed for that matter. But I knew the truth. Just this morning Bella had been blowing the star basketball player in the girls’ bathroom. How do I know? Because I had a front row stall when they slammed through the door, believing they were alone.
I pulled up my feet, pretending I wasn’t there, and those fucktards never even thought to check the stalls. It was awkward with my pants down, because let’s be real, I had just finished peeing, and I didn’t want to get coined the resident outcast the first week of school for pissing off the in crowd. Did I mention the guy she blew was not the boy in the picture?
My feet squeaked over the course material covering the seat of my bay window.
I should be thankful the jock only lasted about four minutes. I thought teenage boys were supposed to have better stamina than that. I rolled my eyes.
The next picture in my phone was their backs as they left the bathroom, the jock’s hand clutching her ass like it was a pot of gold. Luckily, the guy, Trent I think was his name, definitely had a case of the moans and groans. When he was making his big finish, I was able get on the toilet seat, bring my pants up –which was necessary in case I fell – putting me in a great position to snap a picture over the top of the stall once they were on their way out.
That was my thing. Ever since I could remember, I’d been snapping photos of people when they didn’t realize I was watching. It sounded creepy when I put it like that, but I swear it wasn’t that weird. I found you can make people believe anything you want them to based on how you take the picture. The angle, lighting, expression. All together these things made up something compelling I found addictive.
Gestalt principal, I believe. The whole was greater than the sum of its parts. See, I paid attention in class.
Three days in this hellhole of a school and already I could point out the kids that had it all, the kids that had nothing, and the kids that lied. Not verbally, but with their image. These were the kids who came across as perfect, making everyone jealous of their girlfriend or boyfriend, their grades or popularity. But I saw the truth in their body language, the despair in their eyes. I knew, because I saw it in myself every freaking day.
Swipe left to the next picture. This was of the little girl a few houses down. She was the epitome of childhood innocence, light and bubbly. All sunshine and puppy tails. But everyday she went home to a place that barely had enough food to put on the table.
“Astrid!” A reedy voice bellowed from the first floor.
A trill of dread shot down my spine, because I had to go downstairs.
My bedroom door taunted me with new plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the back. They winked at me, taunting me about how I would go downstairs to see what Mother Dearest needed. My worn, suede boots, clicked against the old wooden floor when they hit the ground as I left the window seat.
Shoving the cell phone in the back pocket of my jean shorts, I tugged my gauzy sweater tighter around my body. I’d rather stab myself in the ear with a fondue fork than spend any time with the woman who bore me, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option.
“Astrid! You have two minutes to be downstairs.” My mother took on a shrill tone.
With the second call, I gained a little more urgency. The door creaked like a squeaky dog toy, signaling to anyone in the house, I was on my way. As I pounded down the steps, I was amazed by how many pictures were hung up on the walls already.
We’d only been in the house two weeks, but my mother wanted to be the best Suzie Homemaker on the block.
If I took her picture right now, she’d be the epitome of a woman with purpose. Clunky velvet heels that were currently the height of mom fashion, paired with a simple, dark blue dress that was mildly form fitting, falling to her knees. She’d be chopping salad for dinner, arranging the greenery in nice little bowls for me, her, and dad. The perfect mom. The perfect wife.
Lies. All of it lies.
“What’s up, Mom?” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels.
Mother turned around, leaving a scattered pile of lettuce on the island behind her. A deep frown line marred her forehead and I knew it was only a matter of time until she talked Dad into getting Botox. Not that we had the money for that.
“Astrid, did you get the chicken from the store like I asked?” She swiped small, fly away strands of hair off her forehead with the back of her arm.
My heart started to thump to the beat of the washing machine currently on the last spin cycle. She must have thrown shoes in the wash with all the banging coming from the laundry room.
“I, um. I thought you said this morning you were going to stop at the store on the way home.” I didn’t know how I could mess up like this so much. I could already tell she was going to flip in T minus two seconds.
“No, that’s not what I said, you stupid girl. I had to work the late shift today. I specifically asked you to get the chicken so dinner wouldn’t be late tonight. How many times do I have to tell you something before you do it right?”
Her words smacked against me like small pellets of shame.
“Sorry, Mom. I’ll go right now.” I snatched my keys out of the frog dish we kept in the kitchen, heading around her and straight to the back door.
She sighed like I fucked the world up and took baby Jesus with me on my merry way to hell. “I need the chicken in twenty minutes or dinner’s going to be late. I won’t cover for you with your dad. He’ll know exactly why we aren’t eating when he
gets home.”
I mumbled my goodbye and jogged to my car, ready to get out of there. My car beeped as I opened the door, my yellow and green lei swinging.
My mom and dad. I’d probably spent way too many hours picking over their personalities and what made them tick. Or why they treated everyone like they were less substantial.
My aimless pondering of their relationship and personalities was pointless. Heaven would throw a party at the Gentlemen’s Club before I had any substantial answers. Dad was a preacher and good ole boy from South Carolina and Mom was a southern bell from West Virginia. They met when they were in college at United Presbyterian at some kind of church function.
There were Bibles and fruit punch, like the regular non-alcoholic kind, and all kinds of sweater sets. Apparently it was love at first sight, and they’ve been married ever since. Their love wasn’t blatant and obvious like so many other couples, but maybe that was because of my dad’s beliefs? It was hard to believe sometimes. Why stay married if you weren’t head over heels in love with someone?
Other than not having a deep, churning love for each other, their marriage was a decent one. They seemed to get along well enough, but they had a knack for making people feel like they were about two inches high. It wasn’t reserved for me solely, but I definitely bore the brunt of it.
The day before had been my eighteenth birthday and I was counting down the months until I was able to go my own way and make my own mistakes. Nine months. I was hoping this was one of those times where it went much quicker than it felt in the moment. My luck, it would take three years until graduation.
Even when the time came, if I tried to make my own way, how would I support myself?
This year I was going to make a plan. Some miraculous way I could get out from under the toxic world I was living in.
The local grocery store was two blocks away from our house, which I guessed was convenient enough. It shared a parking lot with a small-town mechanic shop named Tacky’s Tires. The thing about small cow towns outside of city limits, there were weird names attached to every store. No big chains for Silver Ranch. Little mom and pops places only.
I pulled into the parking lot, tracing the cracks I swore could have swallowed small cats. In fact, I was so focused on the picturesque quality of the pavement that I hadn’t seen the light pole right in front of me. In fact, I missed it completely, until I hadn’t missed it at all.
The car jerked and the thunderous clap of the bumper meeting the light pole echoed through the car.
“Oh, shit. Oh shit.” I chanted as I slammed the car into break, hopping out to get a look at what kind of damage I wrought on my brand-new car.
My parents were going to kill me. This was my conciliatory present for not making a stink when we moved. Although, making a fuss was never a real option. I was sure mom would have stripped me down with a tongue lashing, or three.
I cautiously walked to the front, my hands covering my eyes because I wasn’t ready to see my freedom wash down the rusty, hair-ridden drain.
A warm breeze whispered over my face and my shirt danced around my thighs, taunting me. On the count of three, I whipped my hands away from my face.
“Fuck!”
An old, blue haired lady stared me down from two rows over. She muttered to herself, shaking her head before turning away.
Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m what’s wrong with America’s Youth today.
I crouched down to inspect the busted headlight on my Jeep. It wasn’t the newest or coolest car, but it was my very first one. My fingers longingly touched the cracked plastic covering the bulb. At least that part remained intact.
“Goodbye, Freda. I shall miss all the good times we didn’t get to have together.”
“Freda’s such an unsexy name. Why didn’t you go with Stacy or Veronica? Maybe even Devon.”
A rough teasing voice cut through my moping and I turned to look over my shoulder.
The sun was setting right behind the guy’s head so I couldn’t make out his face. From what I could see, he was tall, and wearing baggy clothes.
“Freda was the name of my favorite cat when I was a kid. Now it’s the name of my favorite car.”
“Huh.” He moved closer and whistled through his teeth. “I have to say, that’s some spunk you have there. I’ve never seen anyone accost a light pole just for giggles.”
“What?” I scrunched up my nose, with one hand shielding my eyes. “You know I didn’t do this on purpose?”
“You must really think I’m stupid. I was joking. No one ever joke with you before?” He raised an arm to scratch the back of his head, the tone of his voice saying maybe I was the one that needed help.
I did need help. I needed a way to get out of the life I was destined to lead.
A good little woman. Degree in business or something practical. Married to a nice man that followed in my dad’s footsteps. My stomach churned just thinking about it.
Nah, that wasn’t the life I was going to live, even if it killed me.
“You must think I live under a rock. Look, I’m just stressed. This is a new car and when I take it home, my parents are going to lock it up, and I’ll never drive Freda again.”
Heat hit the back of my eyes and I held my breath, willing it to go away. We’d only been in town two weeks and even though I didn’t know this guy, and would probably never see him again, I hadn’t wanted him to think I was a cry baby.
He crouched down beside me and inspected the pieces of the headlight.
“That’s not horrible. I can fix this right up for you.” He tilted his head my way and my eyes widened.
Holy ear of Van Gogh.
Our heads were only a few inches apart, giving me an up close view of just how stunning this guy was. His dirty blonde hair was buzzed short and he had an edgy, dirty look to him. My eyes drifted down his body and realized why his clothes were so baggy. He was wearing a jumpsuit.
Beck was stitched in bright red over the white patch on his chest. When my eyes flicked back up to his, they were smoldering, daring me to lean in. Where was my phone when I needed it?
“Beck. That’s your name.” I blurted out.
The corner of his mouth hooked up at the corner. “Yeah, you? You must be new around here.”
“Astrid. I just moved here with my mom and dad.” I gulped, getting nervous under the intense power of his gaze.
“High school?” he turned deeper into me.
“Senior.”
Beck sighed with a dick smirk on his face. “Jail bait.” He sat back on his haunches, looking over his shoulder for a second. “Listen. Get your shopping done. I’ll fix this up for you real quick and your parents will never be the wiser.”
Hope brightened the world for a paltry second. Then it faded away. That wasn’t going to work. What was I supposed to pay this guy in? Creepy stalker pics? Yeah, no. No one was interested in the lies like I was.
“I don’t have any extra money. My mom doesn’t let me have a job while school’s in.” Desperation clung to my very being, but I knew I couldn’t pay for it.
“I’ll take care of it. It’s not an expensive fix anyway. I can count this as my one good deed for the year.”
The almost moment we shared evaporated but I still bounced on my knees. I shouldn’t take this guy up on the offer. But I was going to. New town, new school. The last thing I needed was to make my life hell by taking the bus as a senior.
I’d find a way to pay this guy back. Maybe I could babysit or something around the neighborhood.
“Thank you.” I beamed at him and shot back to my feet.
My door was still wide open from where I jumped out like a crazy woman. Beck was picking up the pieces of the broken light when I grabbed my wallet from the console and the keys out of the ignition.
I kicked the door shut and faced the mechanic.
“Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I won’t be long, maybe ten minutes.” My smile wobbled as I started toward the grocery store.
“The keys?” He tapped once on the hood of the jeep.
“Oh yeah,” I twisted to toss the keys to him. Then second thoughts weaseled their way into my mind. Could I trust this guy? If I thought my parents would be angry now, it would be so much worse if my car was stolen.
No, I hadn’t gotten any strange serial killer vibes from him. I believed he was a mechanic at Tacky’s.
Beck caught the keys in midair, flashing a dimple as he stood there watching me. I stared back, mesmerized by the sexy working man thing he had going on. I didn’t see that very often in boys my own age.
He quirked a brow, his grin spreading to engulf the lower half of his face.
I squeaked and spun around, racing toward the front. What the hell was wrong with me, staring at him like he hadn’t known I was there? But he did. And it was totally awkward.
Shaking my head, I picked up a basket after I passed through the automatic doors. The back of my neck burned for me to turn around and see if he was still watching, but I forced myself to keep walking until the doors were out of sight. I instantly relaxed and headed toward the meat section.
The aisles were packed with the after work rush. I dodged around working mothers in their expensive heels and modest blouses, and the working men with old jeans speckled in dirt and grease. A cacophony of annoying beeps filled the air.
It was barely over ten minutes when I paid for the chicken and walked into the night. Warm air kissed my skin and a shiver ran down my spine as I adjusted to the outside temperature.
My car was no longer in the parking lot so I went to Tacky’s Tires. The tail end of Freda peeked out from one of the bays. If the stars aligned in my favor, Beck would be done and I could head home. My night would be hell if I was late with the chicken. And by hell, I meant the snide comments and irritated huffs I’d be subjected to all night.
Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1) Page 1
