Beautiful Lies

by Heather Bentley

  “Becca, wait a second. Who was that? What’s going on?” I rise from my chair and reach for her, but she’s already half way to the door.

  From over her shoulder, she yells out, “I’ll call you later!”

  “Becca, please. Wait!” But she’s out the door before I can get an answer.

  I’m full of nervous energy thinking about confronting CJ in a few hours, so I channel it into my work, and before I know it, it’s five o’clock and I’m out the door. When we get to the apartment, Max refuses to leave.

  “Text me and let me know what’s going on.” He orders.

  “Max, it’s fine. If the worst happens, I can just get a cab.” I’m trying to walk to the door but he holds me with his stare.

  “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.” His arms are crossed at his chest, feet parted in his “I’m not fucking around” stance that he’s perfected as a father of teenage daughters.

  “Max, seriously …” I reply with my own rigor.

  “Chrissy, don’t argue with me. I don’t leave until I hear from you, and if I don’t, then I’ll knock down the door. Understood?”

  Defeated, I groan, “Understood, commander.” I’m tempted to offer him an exaggerated salute but think better of it and instead head for the door.

  At the main entrance to the building, I enter the code that unlocks the door, relieved that it still works, then start my trek up the winding staircase.

  I knock on Eric’s door to no answer, so I try again, harder. When I still don’t get a response, I pound my fist against the solid wood, not giving up until someone acknowledges me.

  “Hold on! I’m coming!” I hear a voice yell from deep inside the apartment. A second later, the door flies open and I’m looking into the pale blue eyes of a gorgeous, young, blond woman.

  “Can I help you?” she asks sweetly. I stand for a moment with my mouth wide open. Because not only is she stunning, she’s wearing a man’s T-shirt. And only a man’s T-shirt.

  The confusion on my face registers with her, so she asks, “Are you from El Montera?” She looks equally confused when she sees I’m not carrying any bags.

  “Pardon?” I shake my head as I try to make sense of her words.

  She’s about to speak, but is interrupted by a male voice coming from the hall.

  “Ali, who’s at the door?” The voice gets louder as it enters the living room. “If it’s dinner, there’s money in my wallet on the counter.”

  I look past Ali to see CJ enter the room, his arm raised and pointing towards his wallet. He freezes when he sees it’s me. I barely notice him look from me to Ali and back again, because I’m focused on what he’s wearing. Or, more importantly, what he’s not. Nothing but a gray towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Christina …” He takes two steps towards me then suddenly stops, crossing his arms at his chest and narrowing his eyes. “What do you want?”

  “CJ … I …” My eyes stay on him, but I don’t miss Ali’s slow departure from the room to the safety of the hall.

  Ice is stabbing me in the heart and splintering throughout my chest as my mind tosses around images of what I just walked in on. “Is she? Are you? Are you with her?”

  “Does it matter? I mean, it’s okay for you to do it. Why shouldn’t I?” His lip lifts in disgust, looking at me like I’m a pile of rotten garbage.

  “CJ, what are you talking about?” Confusion clogs my brain.

  He storms across the room until we’re standing face to face in the doorway. It’s the closest we’ve been in about a week but I suddenly want to be anywhere but here. “Please, Christina.” He scoffs, unconvinced. “Romantic candlelit dinners. Hand holding. Going home with him. You had me fooled. I really thought you were something special. Turns out you’re no better than the rest of your family.”

  I feel like I’ve just been slapped in the face. “CJ …” I plead as I raise my hands in defense. Out the corner of my eye, I notice Eric enter the room. When he sees it’s me, he mirrors CJ’s stance and stares me down with equal disgust.

  “All that talk of leaving to get away from your family. Maybe you should reconsider. Seems you fit in just fine where you’re at.” He lets his words sink in before twisting the knife. “Because you may just be the biggest liar of them all.”

  My eyes widen and my mouth drops, unable to speak as I watch the door slam in my face.

  Although my brain has shut down, my body manages to know what I need and I somehow find myself on the front steps of the building. I stay frozen in my spot, my mind spinning in complete and utter turmoil, as I replay CJ’s words in my head, trying desperately to make sense of them.

  “Chrissy. Chrissy.” I look up and Max is there, hand out, ready to guide me back to the car. “What the hell happened up there?”

  “I … I have no idea. He thinks I cheated on him. But how? Why?” I stop the two of us and look to Max.

  Max has got one arm around my back and the other hand is gripping my forearm as he pulls me forward. “You didn’t know? My girls told me it’s all over social media that you and Alex are dating.”

  “What?” All of the air rushes from my chest as I barely get out the word.

  “C’mon, Chrissy. Let’s get you in the car and away from here.”

  Before we even start moving, I’m on my phone searching the Internet. I hate social media so I don’t have accounts on Facebook, Twitter, or anything else people can use to cyber bully me from the safety of their homes.

  When I type in our names, I’m instantly met with photos of the two of us. Alex and I with Thomas on the field before the game, his family conveniently cut out of the picture. Alex and I eating by candlelight at the Italian restaurant. The two of us holding hands across the table and smiling. Alex with his hand on the small of my back leading me into the car. And finally, a picture of that same car in front of Alex’s building. The pictures are so convincing, even I can see how someone might think there’s something going on.

  “Oh my God, Max. He thinks I cheated on him. What do I do?” Tears are falling as my panic is rising.

  “Right now, you breathe. Don’t do anything rash until we think this through.” He orders as he heads for home.

  Like hell. I immediately call Alex.

  “Hey, Christina. How’re you doing, honey?”

  “How am I doing? Do you really want to know how I’m doing? I am miserable, Alex. Totally fucking miserable!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “What’s going on? What’s going on is that the entire planet seems to think we’re dating, including the guy I was seeing! Emphasis on the was!” I’m panting and crying, my chest filling with pressure, fueled by a mixture of anger and sadness.

  “Okay, slow down, Christina. Don’t get worked up over it. It’s not a big deal, honestly. These things always pass, and by next week, they’ll have me dating someone else. It’s just what they do. Trust me. This will all blow over.” His words are meant to be soothing but it’s not working.

  I shout into his ear, “Next week is too late, Alex! He’s done. How do I fix this? We need to fix this!”

  “Let me call my PR people, explain the situation to them, and see what they suggest. Can you give me a couple of hours?”

  “Yeah, fine. I guess,” I mumble, as I look out the window and wipe the wetness from my cheek.

  “I will fix this, Christina. I promise you, I will.”

  “Yeah.” The doubt obvious in that one syllable.

  “All right, honey. Hang in there. I’ll take care of this, and if not, it’s his loss. You hear me?” He manages to speak every syllable with equal measure of firmness and kindness.

  “Yeah, I hear you.” I hang up with a groan, dropping my phone and covering my face with my hands. Because for all his good intentions, even Alex and a team of PR people can’t reverse the images of CJ and the beautiful blonde that will forever be burned on my brain.

  The car ride provides me the time to repla
y and digest every minute of what’s just happened. After what feels like the hundredth time, I can’t stop myself from calling him. My call goes straight to voicemail. The sound of his voice ignites a slow burning anger I have no intention of dousing.

  With the same disdain he showed me back at the apartment, I say my piece. “I get it now, CJ. You think I cheated on you. So, like the weak man you are, you cheat on me in return. Did it ever dawn on you to ask me about Alex? Confront me? No. Because that would take strength. Strength you obviously don’t have. Well, for the record, I never cheated on you. I know that because my idiotic heart told me I was falling in love with you. And I stupidly, stupidly, let myself believe it. Believe that I could actually have something good, something real—with you. Well, thanks for bringing me back to reality and proving to me that you’re no better than the person you’re accusing me of being.” I take a breath, forcing the pain away from my voice. “I hope she’s worth it.”

  When I wake in the morning, I’m no longer hurt or upset over losing CJ. I’m white-hot pissed the hell off. I’m stomping around my bedroom, brushing my teeth and rifling through my closet when my phone rings. I run toward it, anxious to unleash my wrath on whoever the unfortunate caller is, silently praying it’s CJ so I can rip him a new one. When I see it’s Alex, my shoulders fall in disappointment. “Hey,” I grumble.

  “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Did I wake you?”

  “No, I’ve been up. Just going into the hospital early. It’s crunch time before the gala.” I’m holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I struggle to buckle the strap around my ankle. I’m wearing my four-inch, spiked “don’t fuck with me” heels today.

  “Right. So listen, my PR people are releasing a statement this morning clarifying that we are not, in any way, shape, or form, dating, that we have been friends, and only friends for some time now. I’m also going to post a statement on all of my social media accounts as well as the actual picture of all of us with Thomas on the field, so everyone can see how it was manipulated.”

  I stand and hold the phone to my ear. “Thank you, Alex. That’s really nice of you, I appreciate it. Unfortunately, I don’t know if I care anymore.”

  “What? Why? What happened since we talked yesterday?”

  “Let’s just say, her name is Ali.” I try to cover the tightness in my voice, but it doesn’t get past Alex.

  “What!” He shouts so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear for a beat. “What a total piece of shit. Do you want me to go over there? Because I will, Christina. Fuck it, let me make a few calls. I’ll take some of the guys over there and scare the piss out of him.” If Alex could only see the smile his words bring to my face. I can’t help but laugh at the thought of CJ opening the door to a bunch of six foot six behemoths.

  At my silence, Alex eases his tone. “Christina, please don’t let him get the best of you. If that’s how he wants to be, the douchebag doesn’t deserve you. Would it help if I gave you some good news?”

  “Yes, definitely. Give me the good stuff,” I huff in exasperation.

  “When I was on the phone with my PR rep last night, they suggested I be seen in public with another woman. But I didn’t want it to be just any random woman, I wanted it to be someone I could see myself spending some time with. I remembered what you said that night at dinner, and, well, I invited Anna to be my date at the gala.” Even upset, I don’t miss the shyness in his last few words.

  “Alex, that is wonderful! You will love her. She is beautiful, and sweet, and funny, and, I think you two will really hit it off.” I’m so genuinely happy that I forget the hurt from just a minute ago.

  “I’m kind of figuring that out for myself.” A small laugh escapes before he goes on. “After I spoke to my rep, I called her and we talked on the phone for two hours last night. I don’t know when I’ve ever talked to a woman for that long. Turns out, she knows more about football than most guys. Not to mention she put my ego in check when I started talking about all the records I broke in college. I like that. I’m so used to everyone kissing my ass and telling me how great I am because of what I do for a living, but she didn’t care about that. She was more interested in what I like to do in the off-season and asking about my family. It was refreshing to let my guard down for a change.” There’s true elation in his voice.

  “Alex, that’s great. Really. She’s a good friend and an amazing nurse. You should come by the hospital some time and see her in action.”

  “I was thinking of taking her to lunch today. Too much?”

  I slide a few narrow silver bracelets onto my wrist. “No, definitely not.”

  “Good. I’ll be there this afternoon then.”

  I’m smiling for the first time in days. “Just make sure you stop by and say hi. And Alex, for what it’s worth, I think it’s great that you’re giving this a chance. I see good things for the two of you.”

  Alex breaks out in a loud roar of laughter. “Have you been talking to my mom?”

  With the day of the gala finally here, I’m looking forward to getting more than four hours of sleep a night. Fortunately, I have too much adrenaline flowing at the moment to feel the least bit exhausted. After overseeing the set-up with the event planners last night until midnight, I was back before the sun rose to finalize the last few details. I know we pay the event planners generously to put this together, but I’m too Type A to simply stand back and let them do their job.

  Sitting in the back of Father’s Rolls Royce on the way to the gala, I’m seriously in need of a drink after listening to Grandmother drone on about my outfit choice. “My God, Christina, hot pink? I’ll say it again, that color is cheap and trashy. You look like you charge by the hour.” Grandmother looks away, as if the sight of me hurts her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Grandmother, I heard you the first time.” I dig my nails into my clutch in my lap and stare at her, daring her to look at me. “Not that it matters, but it’s a four thousand dollar custom gown. I’d hardly call that trash. And more importantly, it’s what the kids picked for me.”

  She still refuses to look at me. “It’s important as the head of the event, you should look classy, sophisticated. Not like a tacky ‘lady of the night.’ Unless that’s what your football playing boyfriend likes.” I know she can see me glaring at her out the corner of her eye, but for once, I’m not backing down.

  I’m always on edge before any event I’m a part of. Combine that with my lack of sleep and a broken heart, and I fail to handle Grandmother with my usual indifference. “Grandmother, I am completely covered except for a bit in the back. And, more importantly, I am not dating the football player, just as I’m not head of the event. I manage donations and stay out of the spotlight. Just as you’ve always asked me to.” Those last few words come out with clear disdain. I don’t ever dare speak to Grandmother this way, but with my stress building as each minute passes, it’s a toss-up between sobbing uncontrollably or going all Ronda Rousey on the next person to look at me sideways.

  Just as Grandmother is about to bite back, Father interjects. “Enough, Christina. You will not disrespect your grandmother this way.”

  I look over to Becca who is sitting across from me, eyes cast out the window. I’m desperate for an eye roll, shoulder shrug, anything to indicate that she sides with me. I get nothing as she continues to stare at the passing scenery.

  No one bothers to say anything about her gown tonight, and if there were ever a piece of clothing to criticize, this would be it. It’s strapless and fitted to the floor, with an obscene slit that must run up to her pelvic bone. But the worst part is the beading. Emerald green, silver, and black. It looks like something worn back in a 80s Miss America pageant. I never missed a year, watching the pageant as a young girl. I wonder if that’s why it seems oddly familiar? Seriously, where do you even find a dress like that these days? I’m tempted to ask Becca about it, but even she doesn’t seem comfortable in it. It’s like someone else picked it for her.

&nbs
p; Thirty silent, tortuous minutes later, I move around the room, socializing and schmoozing, while kissing more cheeks of more decrepit, albeit extremely wealthy, men than I care to admit. Unfortunately, it’s all part of the game of raising money. Most people are here to impress and the best way to do that is to throw their money around.

  Once I move past the ass-kissing part of the evening, I make my way over to the two tables I purchased for the parents of the patients on my floor. I greet one mother, Tricia, as I keep an eye out for Tom Sr. and Jackie, Thomas’s parents.

  “Oh, Christina, they didn’t tell you? They’re at the hospital.” Tricia mentions when she catches me scanning the group.

  “Is Thomas all right? Did something happen?” I’m ready to pull off my heels and run out the door.

  “No, no.” Tricia reassuringly pats my forearm. “They just couldn’t bring themselves to leave him. Jackie said she’d text me and let me know how he’s doing. She also wanted to tell you thank you for all of your hard work you put into tonight’s event and that she’s sorry to miss it.”

  After Tricia promises to let me know if she hears from Jackie, I move around the table, hugging guests as I go. With a false smile plastered on my face, I can feel myself slipping into autopilot. Thomas has been sleeping more lately, and the idea of losing him is too much right now. I have to keep reminding myself that he’s surprised us and bounced back before.

  I’m going through the motions, when I hear Grandmother call my name from close behind. “Christina, darling, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” The only good thing about these events is that, while we’re here, she acts like she likes me. I turn to see her with a short, stocky man who appears to be about my age. “This is Matthew Mannheim, dear, Daniel and Joan’s son.” And she’s back to hating me again. That’s because even though Matthew looks great on paper—Ivy League education, old money, and a prominent spot within the family business, he is complete and total scum.

  A few years ago, Matthew was charged with raping and beating a prostitute within an inch of her life. She not only survived, but pressed charges. Unfortunately for this poor woman, money like ours buys just about anything. Like losing key evidence, witness tampering, and pay-offs to the victim including a six-figure bank account and a condo in Sarasota. She did manage to take a couple of things with her from New York though. Like a half-paralyzed face and the fact that she’ll never be able to bear children. But because the case was eventually dropped, society accepts this as his innocence. This is the kind of man Grandmother thinks I’m worthy of.