Bear Faced Liar

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Why the assumed name? Why the job?” asked Rosemary, setting her cup down carefully.

  “Because she wanted to try life from a different angle,” supplied Vanya. “Am I right, darling?” Without waiting for Chrissy to answer she continued dramatically, “All her life she has been the cossetted Lascombe-Holmes heiress. Feted and courted wherever she went. Now she knows what life is like from the other side of the tracks. Am I right?”

  Chrissy sat back in her seat a moment. “Partly,” she said. “And of course, I was miserable. Really miserable, although I never acknowledged it. Then Stuart did something. Something unforgivable.”

  Vanya drew in a shocked breath. “But what did he do?”

  “Something that left me vulnerable and exposed. He did it for his own gain, without any thought of me or my wellbeing,” Pris’s voice shook. She took a hurried sip of coffee. With each moment, memories, a little fragmented, but clear were coming back to her. Stuart in the hospital, being shrill and demanding. Stuart removing a diamond ring from her finger in the hospital waiting room. Clutching his head and going on about his art exhibition and how she had ruined it all by getting injured. He was such an asshole.

  “You’re saying that Stuart deserved the harassment we’ve given him over the past week?” asked Rosemary with interest. “I certainly hope so! Vanya was convinced he had murdered you and buried you under the patio! She’s hounded him unmercifully!”

  “But he had done something wicked,” said Vanya defensively. “So I am at least partly justified! Then there were the photos,” she pointed out.

  Chrissy clutched the envelope tightly, but it turned out her stepmother was taking about different photos.

  “I looked on his gallery website,” said Vanya. “You’d told me about his exhibition that was coming up. When I looked, there was a blonde on them, wearing your red sequined Valentino gown. On the credits, she was listed as you, but it wasn’t you! Now can you blame me for thinking the worst?”

  “Vanya thought he’d replaced you with a body-double to get to your trust-fund,” said Jenna smugly. “But I knew he hadn’t done away with you.”

  “I thought he was cheating on me, for months now,” said Chrissy shrugging.

  “Actually, it was an actress,” put in the private detective producing a small business card which he handed over. “A Miss Lucy Neals. She said Harber paid her to impersonate you at the after-show party to impress his artistic acquaintances.”

  How bizarre, thought Pris as she stared down at a small black and white photo of Lucy Neals, actress. She bore a certain spurious resemblance to her. Someone who didn’t know her personally might well be fooled.

  “You believe Stuart was cheating on you?” cut in Rosemary.

  “We hadn’t been getting on for months,” admitted Christine. “He was always trying to pull away from me. Wanting time alone – to work, to think. And that just made me more clingy,” her eyes glazed over as she remembered the daily rows. Her sharp tongue. His slamming doors and roaring off in the car. God, what a pathetic excuse for a relationship. She contrasted it with what she had now…Then her mind shut down to prevent the pain. Because of course, she had nothing now. It had all been a total sham.

  “This thing that he did...” Vanya paused.

  “He put me in danger,” said Chrissy flatly. “And he didn’t care. I realize now that all he ever cared about was himself.”

  Rosemary gave a short nod of her head. “So, you were dealing with a messy break-up,” she said with relief. “You were getting it out of your system.”

  “Maybe,” murmured Chrissy.

  “This thing you have going with this… man, it won’t last Christina. It isn’t real.”

  In that instant she knew that the detective had uncovered the fact Jared was a shifter. She felt her shoulders tense up. “That’s not really anyone else’s business, Rosemary.”

  “Well, he’s obviously after your money,” said Jenna. “Duh!”

  “I am aware you have close and personal knowledge of gold-digging, Jenna,” she answered calmly. “But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I need your opinion on how I live my life.”

  “I’m just saying…”

  “You'd better shut your mouth, Jenna,” said Chrissy turning to face her straight on and channeling her inner Carole-Ann. “Unless you want me to do it for you.” Her words were Ice. Freaking. Cold.

  Jenna spluttered and then subsided into silence, her cheeks turning crimson.

  She saw Vanya mouth her name in disbelief to one side.

  Rosemary looked a little amused though she tried to hide it, touching a napkin to her mouth.

  “I believe we won’t be needing your services any longer Mr Michaelson,” she said. “Would you please send me the bill? Christina’s estate will be paying for it, of course.”

  Pris inclined her head. “Naturally,” she concurred. "I do apologize for any inconvenience you've had trying to track me down, Mr Michaelson. I'm afraid it was all just a big misunderstanding."

  He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again and shrugged. "If you say so, Miss Lascombe," he said.

  "I do, thank you."

  The next part was worse, as everyone expected her to accompany them back to the luxury spa and golfing hotel they were staying at three towns over.

  “Just for the weekend darling,” Vanya urged her. “Maybe this…new man of yours could come along and join us for dinner, so we can all meet him.” She and Pris had drawn to one side as the others waved off the Private Investigator.

  “Perhaps later,” said Pris quickly. It was hard to explain, and of course, Vanya had no idea of the turmoil that was going through her head right now as her new and old memories collided. “I’m sorry Vanya. I know I promised you an explanation.” She shot a hurried look at Rosemary and Jenna. “Can you get rid of them? Send them back to your hotel? Maybe we could get a bite to eat together? You could get a taxi back…?”

  “Of course, darling. Of course,” Vanya told her, catching hold of her hand and patting it. “I’ll send these two packing and we can talk.”

  Pris rubbed her bare arms as Vanya had a hurried conversation with her two other stepmothers.

  “Well, it’s poor Stuart I feel sorry for,” sniffed Jenna tossing her head.

  “Do you?” asked Rosemary. “Perhaps you don’t realize, he hasn’t got any money Jenna.” She brushed past the younger woman and approached Pris. “Very well Chrissy, we’ll return to The Grange, but I expect you to come and take lunch with us tomorrow.” She brushed a kiss on Pris’ cheek and looked surprised when she was pulled into a hug.

  “Thanks for coming to save me, Rosemary,” Pris whispered into her ear.

  Rosemary’s shoulders relaxed. “Let me know if you need a good lawyer,” she said patting Pris’s back. “This is yours,” she said drawing a clutch purse from out of her own oversized bag. “This is one of the reasons I took Vanya’s wild claims so seriously.” At Pris’ raised brows she added. “When the P.I. snooped through your house, he found your purse with all your bank cards and your cell phone. How could you have left that behind?”

  Pris cleared her throat. “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time.”

  “I will see you tomorrow,” said her most formidable stepmother. “At lunch.”

  Pris nodded, though she was not sure if she would be there yet. She watched as Rosemary turned and climbed into the SUV.

  Jenna raised a hand before climbing in after her. She had the sense not to come any closer.

  “Hopefully Jenna will melt away in the night once she realizes she is not wanted,” Vanya suggested optimistically as she threaded an arm through Pris’s. They waved off the car. “I think she’s bored. And burning through the money your father left her at a rapid rate.”

  “No doubt,” said Pris wryly, she flipped open her purse and found her Gucci wallet. “I’m going to check into a room at this place, she said glancing up at a generic chain business hotel.

&n
bsp; “Here?” said Vanya looking horrified. “I’m sure we can find you somewhere far more congenial…”

  “It’ll be fine. I need to pick up a couple of other things too – something to sleep in,” said Pris.

  Vanya looked worried. “Have you run away from this one too?” she asked despairingly.

  “Just for tonight,” Pris explained. “I need to get my head clear. I need some space to think.”

  Vanya nodded slowly. “After your father cheated on me, I went to Paris and lived in a charming little pied-à-terre in Montmartre for three months. I did nothing except drink red wine and wander the streets and courtyards like a wraith.” She sighed. “This is a similar time for you, I think.” She shot a questioning look at Pris. “Would you agree?”

  “Um,” said Pris tiredly. “I guess. Sorry, it’s been a long day.” She felt suddenly shattered. “I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

  “Shall we get that drink?” asked Vanya.

  “I’ll check in to a room, and we can go to the restaurant there,” suggested Pris. “If that’s okay?”

  “Of course, whatever you say.”

  After collecting her key card, they made their way to the restaurant and Vanya proceeded to order a tapas selection for the two of them and two club sodas.

  “I suppose it’ll be alright,” she said doubtfully. “I thought you’d like the deep-fried eggplant in honey.”

  Pris’s stomach turned over. “I’m not really hungry,” she muttered, scrubbing her eyes.

  Vanya waited as long as it took for the waiter to bring their drinks over, and then she turned to her. “Well?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” admitted Pris. “I need time to think it through.”

  “Can we agree this temporary infatuation was just a distraction from the real problem?” asked Vanya gently.

  Pris looked at her. “No,” she said.

  “No?” Vanya looked troubled. “We need to get you safely home,” she said. “Let me call Stuart for mediation and set up a meeting between the two of you…”

  “Stuart and I are over, Vanya.”

  “To ask him to make arrangements to move out, then? I mean, obviously you’ll have to co-exist for a little while until he’s found somewhere else-”

  Pris snorted. Vanya looked at her enquiringly. “I’m not moving back into that house with Stuart,” she said.

  Vanya took a sip of soda water. “Okay,” she said placatingly. “So, what are your plans, Chris?” she asked reasonably.

  Pris took her own gulp of soda water. What were her plans? She opened and closed her mouth again without finding words.

  “You haven’t – let this shifter - you know,” said Vanya, averting her eyes delicately.

  “What?” asked Pris.

  “Do that territorial thing they do. Marking their mate.”

  “Oh,” said Pris flatly. “No, he hasn’t done that.”

  “Well thank heavens for small mercies!”

  But it hadn’t been her choice, thought Pris. Was that because Jared was only toying with her? Why the hell had he carried her out The Heights that day? Her thoughts were all jumbled. She had to swallow past a lump in her throat. The server was putting down dishes of seasoned chickpeas, eggplant in honey, and cheese croquettes.

  “Could we have some bread please?” asked Vanya at the waiter’s polite enquiry if there was anything else he could fetch for them. “And I’ll have a large glass of the Sauvignon Blanc. Chrissy?”

  “No, thank you,” said Pris. She would need a clear head for all the thinking she was going to have to do.

  “You may find,” said Vanya, once the waiter had retreated. “That once you’ve got your little revenge fling out of your system, you’ll feel a lot better about the whole thing.” She started spooning stewed eggplant onto Pris’s plate.

  Revenge fling? Pris regarded her. “Vanya,” she started heavily, then lapsed into silence as the waiter bought over a bread basket and a glass of wine to their table. “You seem to have this the wrong way around.”

  “Have I?” prompted Vanya, when she didn’t continue. She placed down the bowl and picked up the dish of croquettes. “I think you must allow for my wealth of experience in these matters,” she said with a slightly patronizing smile.

  “I love him,” said Pris abruptly. She let this sink in a minute, before adding, “Jared, not Stuart. I don’t think I ever loved Stuart. I just thought I should.”

  Her stepmother stared back at her and set the bowl down with a heavy thump. “Then why in the world do you look so desolate?” she asked. “Answer me that!”

  “Because,” said Pris, turning her head away, unable to meet Vanya’s bewildered gaze. “Because, I very much doubt he feels the same way about me!”

  Vanya was very good and pretended not to notice the tears that spilt over, as Pris rummaged in her designer clutch for a tissue. She clicked her tongue and murmured ‘darling’, but otherwise left her step-daughter to compose herself.

  “I’m sorry,” said Pris, finally looking up. “I’m not going to be able to eat much of this.”

  “I will be pacified with even two spoonfuls,” Vanya told her kindly.

  Pris did her best to comply, but the tomato sauce tasted congealed and the eggplant rubbery and dry.

  “Tell me about the job,” said Vanya, tipping her head to one side. “Always, you had the fascination for the make-up artistry, always.”

  Pris gave a weak smile, before it faded from her face. “But you remember how Dad felt about that,” she said bitterly. “Beauty courses are for those that don’t have the brains for real academic subjects.”

  Vanya winced. “He could be stubborn, your father.“

  “You don’t need to tell me. The amount of times he sent me back upstairs to wash my face, if he thought I was ‘painted like a clown’.” Pris set down her fork. “And then he went and married Jenna! Jenna, with her fake tan and false eyelashes.”

  Vanya shrugged. “He was of a certain age by then.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Pris. Her Father had left Vanya for Jenna. “That was insensitive of me.”

  “My darling, it is all water under the bridge now.”

  “I love it, the job,” said Pris abruptly. “I have great co-workers, job satisfaction and prospects too. Not multi-million dollar prospects…but prospects all the same.”

  “And you don’t need multi-millions,” agreed Vanya quietly.

  “No.” Pris sighed. Because she already had them. “And some things are worth more. This last week I’ve finally felt like...” She broke off. “But maybe it was just play-pretend. Like a vacation,” she added bleakly.

  “Christine,” her stepmother murmured, and reached across the table to cover her hand with her own.

  Pris let her comfort her a moment. “I have a pounding head, Vanya,” she said sadly. “I know I promised you a heart-to-heart, but I really just want to sleep it off.”

  Vanya lightly traced the stem of her wine glass. “I will let you off the hook,” she said finally. “But only because I genuinely believe that you have no clue what you are going to do yet.”

  Pris smiled wanly. “How well you know me.”

  “Now, you will sit there, while I finish this meal and my wine, and then we will walk across to that retail outlet together and buy you a nightgown and a change of clothes for the morning. Then I will see you to your room and call a cab to go back to mine. How does that sound?”

  “Like a good plan,” said Pris. Vanya ate next to nothing anyway and her glass was nearly empty.

  Sure enough, it was only half an hour later that Pris was stood at the window of her hotel room, watching a cab pull up to carry her stepmother away. She drew the curtains, retrieved the toothbrush from her handbag and went to the bathroom to wash up. Her head was still whirling and after drinking a glass of water, she walked into the bathroom, changed into the camisole set and slid into bed. She’d only been lying there for a few minutes, before her conscience
got the better of her and she got back out to retrieve her phone. As expected, she had texts and missed calls from Carole-Ann, Lois, Billie, Bettina and sure enough, Jared. She shot a text to Carole-Ann and then to the Bettina’s Belles group chat. ‘Please don’t worry, I’m having to sort out a situation. Sorry I stood you all up at Elmer’s. Will explain later. Love from Pris. x’

  She almost jumped at how quickly the messages came back at her.

  ‘If you need anything, even just to talk, let me know. Lois. xxx’

  ‘You know where we are, Pris. We’re here for you and waiting for your call. Bettina.’

  ‘Love you Pris. Billie. xx’

  Pris felt her eyes well up. Then she got a message from Carole-Ann.

  ‘Jared’s out of his mind with worry. Whatever he did, he’s suffering for it. Having said that, if he hurt you, I will take my brothers and Grady and kill him personally.’

  Pris sat on the bed, breathed in and out a few times, then hit ‘Call Jared’ on impulse. The phone was answered almost immediately.

  “Pris?” The sound of his voice twisted deep in her chest, giving her a pain that took her breath away. How could he sound the same as he did this morning? Luckily, he couldn’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks, although her ragged breathing probably gave away the fact she was crying. “Baby, where are you? Please, just tell me. I can make this right. Just let me...I swear, I will never fuck this up again if you’ll just let me make it up to you." Then his anxious voice gentled. “Pris, please don’t cry. Please.”

  But she found she couldn’t speak. Not a single coherent word. Properly bawling now, Pris hit ‘end call’ and rolled onto her side, crying until she was all cried out. She just about managed to crawl into the bed before passing out from exhaustion.

  **

  Four hours later, a hammering on the door jolted Pris abruptly from sleep. She lay a moment feeling disoriented, then realized there were voices in the passageway outside her door. Groggily, she rose from the bed, switched on the lamp and tottered toward the door. She recognized one of those voices. The deep, gravelly one. Opening the door a crack, she blinked at the sight of Jared looking massive and formidable and a scared looking hotel attendant.