A Distraction of Lies

by Charlotte E Hart

  A chuckle leaves me as I get into the car and feel it pull around to the front of the building. I shouldn’t be chuckling about anything, but I am. She was so dismissive of everything earlier, me included. It was nice to be around, unusual for me. So comfortable in her silence. Aggressive with it. I’m not even sure if she’ll be where I asked her to be at ten pm. She might change her mind.

  Tom pulls the car to a stop and I wait as he gets out and hovers by the side of it. Ten minutes pass as I keep looking at my watch. Still, we wait. She’ll come when she’s ready. Nothing is going to make her do a thing she doesn’t want to adhere to. I’m being reckless really. She’s not meant for this. She’ll be ill mannered, contempt filled, and exhaustive for me to deal with, but I offered her a distraction, maybe offered myself one at the same time. A few days. That’s all. No sleep. No thought other than the place we’re in, and then I’ll bring her home so she can do whatever else she wants to do with her life.

  The soft click on the door makes me smile sadly, part of me wishing she didn’t show up at all. I wipe it from my face before she lands fully in the car, and keep my face forward and away from looking at her. I’ll look when I’m ready to acknowledge her, and then I’ll look as much as I want. At the moment I’m compartmentalising myself the same way I used to, trying to find the space in my head that makes this alright to be involved in. It’s not. I know it isn’t. But I have needs. They’re needs I can’t get in any other way. The distraction will prove as useful as it used to, perhaps give me some time to analyse and scrutinize the next mix.

  “Gray,” she says, as Tom gets in the front.

  “Mrs Tanner.”

  “Are you going to consistently call me that? I don’t like it much anymore.”

  “What would you like to be called?”

  “It depends where we’re going.”

  The car starts to pull away and I frown at the thought of the place we’re going, unsure what she’ll make of it, or what I’ll make of it with her in it.

  “Why does it depend on where we’re going?”

  “Will anyone know me?” she asks, turning to look at me.

  “No. You don’t have enough money for anyone to know you.”

  “So I can be anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll let you know then. I need to think about it.”

  I nod and look out into traffic, unsure why she would feel the need to call herself anything other than her name, but I suppose she might want anonymity. A new creation of life maybe. My lips graze a smile again, wondering what she’ll be like where we’re going. I can’t get a gage on who she is at the moment. Grief, annoyance, near drunken dismissal of everything around her, and then those hints of vulnerability under the bravado. If it is bravado. Perhaps she’ll fall into self-indulgence and not care for what she becomes. Either way, I don’t care really. She’ll be a diversion for me as much as the venue is for her. Nothing more than that.

  A digression from my present day.

  “Why did you ask me to expose myself last night?” she asks, as the car travels through the heavy traffic. I watch the other cars around us, feeling hemmed in by them suddenly. Too much time outside the apartment, probably. I scowl at them all and try loosening my shoulders, rolling them to calm myself down. “Gray?”

  “What?”

  “Exposing myself?” My eyes close, agitation building at the noise around me.

  “I told you. Compliance.”

  “I didn’t comply. I chose to do something for myself. It amused me to think of my dead husband looking at you while you looked at me naked.” I scoff and roll my neck, unclenching my hands from their grip on themselves.

  “Why?”

  “He would have hated it.”

  “How do you know?” I ask, still trying to drown out everything but her voice.

  “He was possessive about me. Made me cover up.”

  My eyes open slowly and I chuckle, head tilting sideways to look at her. “He made you cover up because he was an inadequate husband. It’s probably why he fucked other women, hoping to prove himself to himself somehow.” She frowns at me, her chin trying for superior.

  She’s doing well at it. Especially considering her ass is in a seat next to me travelling to an unknown location. “Men both fuck, and fuck with people, to feel powerful, Mrs Tanner. Deborah Collier is a high-ranking member of my business, something that he would have worked hard to get inside. I can assure you, covering you up was not something he did because he was bothered about men looking at you. It was just because you were easy to control.”

  “A little too blunt.”

  “Reality?”

  She shuffles in her seat and looks around the interior, her gaze eventually landing on the closed unit housing the alcohol.

  “No, Mrs Tanner. No alcohol. Have one of these if you’d like to relax.” I take out a small bottle of mixed use pills, unscrewing the cap and shaking them into my hand. “Which type of high, or low, would you like?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t drink when I go where we’re going. Which drug would you like?”

  “I don’t take drugs.”

  “Yes you do. You drink like a fish at present. Orange is a muscle relaxant. Blue, hallucinogenic. White will space you out, slightly akin to pot. And pink will speed you up. Choose.”

  “You take drugs?”

  “I own a pharmaceuticals company. I research.”

  Silence.

  I curl my hand closed, scrunching the pills into my palm. It gives me a chance to calm myself down because of the other noises around me. I stare blankly out of the window, part of me thinking of the people we’re travelling to, and let my palm fall open again once I’ve relaxed. They’ll be lost in their freedom already, enjoying the merits of the wealth they’ve amassed and the recreational benefits I provide for them. I blink slowly, letting the memories of the last time I was there pass through my mind. Dark. Heated. A wash of everything and anything, all of it offered and willed through a connection not viable without my help.

  Eventually the car sweeps through the main gates to the small airport, silence still carrying us along. I look at her reaction to the jet as we pull into the hanger. She seems intrigued rather than disturbed, some part of her imagining where she’s going I expect.

  “I haven’t ever taken drugs,” she admit. She glances at my hand, watching the little pills still laying there. “You could do anything to me?”

  “I could have done anything to you the other night, which you offered if I remember rightly, I didn’t.” She trades glances between me and the pills again, tongue licking over her lips. “Call me chivalrous, but I prefer my humans sentient when I fuck with them.”

  “Chivalrous?”

  “Chivalrous.”

  She reaches an unsteady hand to the pills, knocking them around in my palm, and fishes a white one out. “I smoked pot once. It was heady. Are you indulging?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll wait then,” she says, putting it back in my hand.

  I get out the car as it comes to a stop and look around the airport, warring with myself about what we’re doing. It’s more reckless than usual, but having someone with me is an anomaly for me, something that makes me feel a part of something rather than just on the side-lines. I frown and take a quick glance back at her as she gets out, too, and waits for me to direct her. She’s so quiet in her naivety, yet strengthened because of it. Perhaps that blankness of hers will be a help rather than a hindrance.

  “Are you sure,” I ask, walking to her.

  “About what?” she says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be sure about. I only know that you’re the most real thing in my life about now. Everything else is a lie. I’m not doing lies anymore.”

  Tom gets our bags out of the trunk and takes them to the plane, leaving me standing on the tarmac with her. I’m unsure at the moment, hesitating. It’s unlike me to give a damn, especially when it comes to women, but I am. I l
ook her over, taking in the clothes, the appearance, and the sense of careless abandon she seems to be living in because of this offer of mine.

  “Things will be implausible, Mrs Tanner. Unusual. People and acts will appear beyond normality for you. A diversion. Hedonistic and mostly laced with dark intent.”

  “Presumably that’s what the pills are for.”

  “Yes.” She scrunches her brow and fidgets in the wind, arms folding around herself.

  “Will you look after me?”

  “If you do as you’re told, yes.” Another deep scowl sets in, a slight sneer covering her mouth. “If not, no. I will leave you to the crowd without regard to your safety.”

  “Charming. Not terribly chivalrous of you.”

  “You only have to do as you’re told to get that result.”

  She looks around the area, taking in my jet again, and then starts walking for it absentmindedly. I watch her hair dance in the breeze, then let my gaze drift lower as she covers the ground. Jeans today. A pair of blue heels. Matching top and long coat. All expensive, tailored. They’re a result of her husband’s work for me over the years, his salary. This version of her is probably the most real version I’ve seen yet. Not riled up. Not drunk. Not angry or wounded. Just simple. Classically cut and thoughtful. The perfect wife.

  Jackson comes out of the plane, nodding at me as he jogs down the steps.

  “All clear, Sir. Have a good flight. I’ll meet you on your return.”

  Good flight. I’m not sure what will be good about it. I can remember the last time a woman was in this plane with me. It wasn’t good. It was argumentative and challenging. Difficult. For both her and me. But I follow Mrs Tanner up the steps into the jet, watching as he looks around. She nods briefly at the two crew working the plane as they welcome her on board, and looks back to me for direction.

  “Go sit. Get comfortable,” mumbles out of me.

  Her arms wrap around her and she heads into the main area, taking a seat in the one I usually use. She’s small in it compared to me, the brown leather wrapping around her as if cradling her.

  “Buckle up,” I say, heading for the one opposite her. She arches a brow at me and sits still, not the slightest interest in her seatbelt.

  “No. Not today,” she replies.

  “No?”

  “No. If the plane crashes, how will a seatbelt help me?”

  She stares at my features as if she has every right to. It’s uncomfortable after a while, enough so that I back my returning stare off to look out the window instead rather than deal with it. I don’t want that. There isn’t any connection here, no thoughts of love or attachment. We’re singular, regardless of that near kiss we fell into the other night. I frown at the memory of it. Drunken maybe, but it’s the first time I’ve thought of kissing for a long time. An inch, that’s all there was between us. It was an inch too close.

  The tarmac starts moving under us, as the crew start their checks and procedures. Noise ricochets everywhere. People and chattering, the engines roaring to life to get us into the air, the sound of the pilot talking and commencing his duties. I close my eyes and let it happen around me, annoyed with all of it and the incessant rumble of irritation, let alone the thought of a woman in here with me. And then it’s finally quiet again. Nothing but the two of us in a plane that hasn’t housed more than one in a long damn time.

  I glance back at her sitting there, her seatbelt still unbuckled as she continues looking at me.

  “You don’t care about safety?” I ask.

  “You’ve offered me drugs, Gray. As if you give a damn about my safety.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m the safest option on the planet to give drugs out. It’s been my life’s work.”

  “Yes I know. You graduated Harvard early, took your PHD before others could barely recount their basics, and then set up Annox Pharma to look into new vaccines others hadn’t even thought of. Apparent genius, according to some.” My brows twitch under her scrutiny, wondering how much else she’s researched. “Yes, Gray. I looked you up earlier. Dug deeper than the first fifteen pages about you.” She looks me over again, taking her time. “Nothing personal. I expect you have it hidden somehow.” She’s right about that. “Still, fundamentally, you’re a dealer. Slightly better than hanging out on corners, but it’s the same connotation.”

  A snort of amusement pops out of me. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  I chuckle and lean back, trying to get comfortable with her continued stare and proximity rather than avoid it. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

  “The first time I saw you, at the opera, I was scared of you. I’m just making sure I’m not anymore,” she replies.

  “Scared?”

  For the first time since she’s gotten onto the plane, she looks away, taking in the area around us rather than focusing on me. “Apprehensive. You have a face that’s weakening. Severe maybe. Low brow. Deep set eyes. You seem angry even if you’re not.” Her lips tip a small smile, eyes looking at the bar, and then she gets up and starts walking around in circles. “You’re nothing like the man I made my life with. He looked soft. Happy. Even when he wasn’t. Maybe you’re the real one with your ferocious outlook. The honest one. I think I fell for a monster in disguise, Gray. He was pretty. Easy going. He seemed honest all those years. Do you think it ever was? I’m not sure now.” She stalls in the space, fingers going to her brow. “Two affairs you said? Who was the other one? And Rick only worked for you for ten years. What about before that? How do I find out about them?”

  “Why would you want to?”

  “It’ll tell me how many men I need to fuck to get it out of my system.”

  A laugh falls out of me, one that builds in amusement. She thinks she’s just going to fuck to get rid of him? I doubt it works like that. Or maybe for her it does. Her eyes look back at me, her body moving as she strips the coat from her body and makes her way to me.

  “Why didn’t you fuck me the other night?”

  “You were drunk.”

  “I’m not now.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She hovers near me, probably trying to make up her mind whether I’m her first fuck or not. I’m not. “Mrs Tanner, sit down,” I order, pointing to the chair.

  “Veronica.” She smirks and picks up sheets of paper, as if pretending to read the detailed observations about chemical repressors.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Veronica. I’ve chosen a new name.” The sheets get flung to the ground, her legs wandering her around in circles again.

  “It’s a terrible name.”

  “Really? I quite like it,” she says, continuing to walk up and down the cabin. Her arms stretch above her head, shoulders rolling around. “Veronica. Nothing like Hannah. Veronica will be all bitch and curses. Angry. Self-absorbed. Disinterested in anything that doesn’t interest enough. Luckily, you interest me,” she says, moving in closer to me.

  “I won’t call you by that name.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “How will you look after me if you don’t use my name?”

  “I’ll watch.”

  Chapter 13

  Hannah

  M y lips quirk, brain trying to work out what I’m even doing here with him. I’m on a plane, no idea where we’re heading, and looking at him as if he’s everything I need to break this head space I’m in. He nods at the chair opposite him again, as if telling me to get in it and do as I’m told – conform.

  No.

  I stretch my leg around him instead and sit in his lap, facing him. He’s wider than Rick. More solid under my backside. I let my weight ease onto him, no care for the way he seems displeased with my move, and place my hands of the front of his shirt. The chest beneath it heaves in a breath, as I pick at the buttons. No movement from him other than that, though. No show of touching me in return. He just looks at me, his typical half ferocious face gazing at me.

  Strange.

  We nearly ki
ssed the other night. So close. I remembered it when I woke up after my nap and saw the phone still open on his pages. The seconds of time that passed between us as we looked at each other bedded in again, reminding me of that drunken time with laughs and giggles and piggybacks.

  One of my hands reaches for the back of his neck, letting the texture of his hair find its way to my grip again. “What does watch mean?” I ask, draping my hand back to his shirt again.

  “Exactly what it sounds like it means,” he replies, watching me closely. “I look. You do … whatever you want to do.”

  His top button comes undone, the pad of my fingers dropping onto his skin. The moment it does he moves suddenly, standing easily regardless of my weight and sliding me off him slowly. My heels hit the ground, his hand stabilising me until I get my balance. “You just don’t do it with me, Mrs Tanner,” he says, leaving me to walk to the bar.

  He grabs a bottle of water and offers me one, as if the sitting on his lap thing didn’t happen. I take it from him and go back to my chair, part of me feeling like I’ve just been told off. I smirk at the feeling, oddly titillated by it considering the grieving wife I’m supposed to be. Rick never did that sort of thing with me. He was always up for my coy advances. This man, though, seems uncomfortable around my advances no matter how forward they are.

  “I can’t work you out, Mr Rothburg. First I offered my lips to you and you didn’t respond. And then I was near naked on your bed, and yet nothing. And then I slip my clothes off at your request, exposing myself, and still nothing. And now I’m over on your lap, on your plane, and you push me off?”

  “You’re not supposed to work me out. Think of me as a guide to distraction. Nothing more.”

  “You don’t want to get inside me?”

  “That’s not why we’re here, or why we’re going where we’re going.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  “Oh.” I laugh and sip at my water, unsure what that means. A secret? I haven’t dealt with secrets since I was in high school. “Really. And are we swapping notes in class on who the fit one is? Perhaps whispering about blowjobs behind the teachers back?”