I don't know what to do. I owe an additional $1500 next month and I have absolutely no money to pay it with.
If I don't, then my loan will accrue more interest, going to default in a few months and ruin my credit.
The problem is that I'm not sure that an additional couple of months is going to be enough to get me out of this predicament.
I want to call Brooke or Lindsey to ask for their advice, but I already know what they're going to say. With Lindsey being pregnant, she doesn't really have any money of her own and her husband is just an associate at the law firm.
They bought an expensive house and have a baby on the way. I don't know for sure if they take any money from my parents, but I wouldn't be surprised either way.
My other sister Brooke? She works a number of freelancing jobs doing photography and writing blog content, probably making less than I do. I know for certain that she takes money from my parents so if I were to ask her for help, then it would still come directly from them.
I sit on the couch, hugging my knees and staring at the amount and the due date highlighted in red on my screen.
This is the thing that I have been working so hard to avoid. This is why I live in this seedy apartment instead of a nice, light, two bedroom down by the beach.
I've been doing everything in my power to survive out here on my own without borrowing money from them, and now… I still have to ask them.
I know that it won't be a big deal and they'll gladly give me the money, but my pride is still getting in the way. I really thought that I could handle this on my own.
I want to put this off until tomorrow, but if I do then I'll just spend the whole evening worrying about what I’m going to say.
So, I take a deep breath and dive right in.
My mom answers on the second ring. She asks me how I'm doing and I give her the highlights.
She doesn't bring up Alex and neither do I. We keep the conversation light and when it gets a little low, I clear my throat and tell her what's going on.
“I had an interest-only repayment program set up on my loans, but it's now going to the full amount. I was doing alright making the $400 a month payment, even though it was a little tight on my salary, but now that it's jumping up to $1,500, I just don't think I can do it.”
“Interest-only repayments are worthless,” Mom says. “You're not really making a dent in the principal.”
“Of course. I know that, but that's all the money that I had the past year. Writing for this magazine isn't exactly making me rich.”
“I know,” Mom says. “That's why I'm encouraging Brooke to create her own content just like she's doing now. It's the only way you're going to get ahead being a writer, if that's what you still want to do.”
“You know that it is.”
“Emma, why exactly are you telling me all this?”
She's pushing me to ask for the money directly.
I know that she's not doing this to get satisfaction but to puncture a hole in my balloon of pride.
“I need your help,” I say frankly. “I can't make these payments. I was wondering if you could pay them and I could pay you back?”
“Yes, of course,” Mom says after a long pause.
A wave of relief rushes over me.
“You send me the login info and I'll take care of all the payments.”
“I'll pay you back, I promise.”
“I know that you want to, but I'm your mother and I don't expect you to. I do expect you to go out there and make the money that you so rightly deserve with your writing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “That's all that the magazine will pay. I can't really ask them for a raise.”
“That's not what I'm talking about. Content creators nowadays make a lot of money. You're in charge of your brand. Your audience. Your readers will find you. It's a thankless job at first, but you won't regret it. In addition to writing for that magazine, I want you to consider raising your profile as a writer, like getting stuff published on medium, on your website, or maybe working on a book.” Mom speaks so matter-of-factly and knowledgeably about this that it completely throws me off.
“I've always thought that you wanted me to go to law school,” I say.
“No, honey. You're getting confused with your father. I wanted you to marry well and be well taken care of emotionally, romantically, and physically. Since you don't think that Alex is the man for you, then I want you to focus on your career and work on building your brand so that one of these days you get paid the money that you deserve for your work.”
“What is that exactly?” I ask.
“Millions,” she says, taking my breath away.
31
Emma
Liam calls me again and again. He leaves messages.
I don't reply. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to hear more lies.
Slowly, my curiosity starts to get the better of me. I have so many questions and he's the only one who can answer them.
Besides, there's something else.
I know that I should put my feelings for him away, but I simply can't. I need closure.
I need to know why he lied.
I need to know why he deceived me.
A few days later, I finally cave. I meet up with him not far away from my office, in downtown LA.
It's a two and a half hour drive for him, but he acts like he lives around the corner. He promises to be there at one.
I get to the restaurant early and ask to be seated next to the window looking out onto the busy street outside.
It's a casual dining place as far as the restaurants in this part of town go. Everyone around here caters to the people working in the big buildings, but this is one of the few ones without white tablecloths.
I run my fingers over the wood grain just below the place setting and wonder what I'm doing here. I'm not giving him another chance.
So, why am I talking to him at all?
I tell myself that it's because I'm a journalist. I want to get a quote. I want him to confirm or deny certain things about my story.
Deep down, I know that's not the only reason why.
I had left so suddenly and without explanation that I feel like I owe him something.
He also owes me something.
“Hi,” Liam says, walking up to me.
He's dressed in a well-tailored slim cut suit that accentuates his lean physique.
He is tall, dark, and dashing.
He has perfectly smooth skin and hair that is only a little bit out of place in that casual unkept sort of way that's incredibly sexy.
Sitting down across from me, I watch the way his Adam's apple moves up and down. His eyes meet mine and my breath stops in the back of my throat.
Not long ago those eyes looked at me in that same way when he was lowering himself on top of me. I want to be back there more than anything again, but I know that it cannot happen.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” Liam says.
“Thanks for making the drive out.”
He is about to say something else and then I realize that I'm not the only reason why he's here.
Of course, how stupid of me.
It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is my story and getting to the bottom of his lies.
“You’re meeting with Alex again, aren't you?”
He starts to say no but then thinks better of it.
“Yes, I am. I wasn't going to, but when you finally asked me to come, I thought that I would take the opportunity to come here and save myself another trip.”
I look down at my plate and then back up at him. I don't know what I wanted him to say.
I guess I wanted an apology.
I also feel like I owe him one as well.
“You left that day without saying a word,” Liam says.
It's an accusation but also a statement of fact.
“Yes, I did,” I admit.
“Why?”
“I found out the truth about
who you are and I was startled.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not Liam Parish. You’re Liam Linville. Although your driver's license says that your name is Peter Schmidt. Why?”
“You had no right to look in my wallet,” he says.
“I know.”
We glare at each other, but neither of us moves. A waiter comes by and asks for our orders. I haven't even looked at the menu.
Liam asks him for more time.
I turn my attention toward the menu and decide to order the first thing that I see. Then I wait for him to decide on his dish.
He moves his eyes over the menu very slowly, reading about each plate and debating about the best choice.
I know that he's stalling. I know that he's trying to buy more time. That's okay.
I like that I can make him uncomfortable.
“I don't know what you want me to tell you, Emma,” he finally says, taking a sip of his cold water.
The ice clings to the glass and makes a loud bell-like sound.
“I want you to tell me the truth,” I say.
“I want to, but how do I know if I can trust you?”
This takes me by surprise.
No, this must be just another line, I decide.
“Trust me with what? Why are you lying?”
The waiter comes back and we place our orders. Then he picks up his knife and looks at his reflection.
“You already wrote one article about me that you had no right to write,” he says quietly. “I wanted to tell you the truth for a long time. I really like you and I really enjoyed the time that we spent together.”
“But?” I finish his thought.
“But… The truth is a secret that would endanger my life if I shared it.”
I roll my eyes and say, “What a liar.”
“I'm not a liar,” Liam says quietly. “I knew that I should have never gone to Alex's party, but we ran into each other. I missed being my old self. It was nice to have someone in my life who knew me for who I used to be.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It grounded me,” Liam continues, ignoring my question. “I don't know how to explain this to you, but everything that I told you is true and also untrue.”
“Okay, you said you wanted to meet me here to answer my questions. Well, you're not doing any of that.”
“I am here and I will answer your questions as best as I can. But first…”
“What?” I say, getting annoyed.
“You have to promise me that everything that I tell you is off the record. That means that you can't use any of this information in your stories. You can't write anything else about me.”
“Why?”
“If you do, then it's going to put my life in danger.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, exasperated.
The waiter comes back with a plate of finely breaded onion rings that Liam ordered.
My mouth starts to water and I grab a piece of one, unable to stop myself.
“I don't know where to start,” Liam says, leaning back in his chair. “I don't think we should be having this conversation, but I wanted to see you again. I missed you. You shouldn’t have left like that, but I understand why you did.”
“Wasn't safe,” I say categorically. “Perhaps still not, but at least we’re in public.”
“I will never hurt you,” he says in a quiet tone of voice. The way that he looks at me with those big, sad eyes, I can't help but believe him. Questions continue to linger though.
“You don't know where to start so why don't I?” I suggest.
He nods.
“What's your real name?”
“Liam Linville,” he says quietly.
“Did you testify against your uncle in a Medicare fraud case?”
Liam's eyes flash up to mine.
There's a tinge of shock in his gaze, but after a few moments he lets out a deep sigh and gives me a brief nod.
“You can't publish any of this. I'm telling you this as a friend,” he insists. “Nothing more. If any of this is published, I'm going to deny it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I agree. I never had any intention of publishing this. I just want to get to the truth.”
This seems to appease him and he lets out a sigh of relief.
"Who is Liam Parish?” I ask.
“It's a name that I made up.”
“Why?”
“I usually use the name on my ID because Alex already knew my first name. You didn't know my last name so I figured I'd use a pseudonym.”
“Why?”
When he takes a deep breath, our eyes meet again.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his.
I'm about to pull away, but he grabs on tightly.
“I'm going to tell you something, but if you were to reveal this to anyone then my life would be in danger. It's as simple as that.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“You promise that you won't?”
“Yes,” I say after a moment. “I promise.”
“In addition to running a chain of nursing homes, my uncle is one of the biggest organized crime bosses in the Pacific Northwest. The nursing home business was a front for a lot of illegal dealings. When I testified against him, he put out a hit on me. The cops kept me in protective custody while I testified, but after that I was on my own. They set me up with a new identification and in a quasi-witness protection program. That's why I live here now. That's why I use a different name now. That's why you can't tell anyone about this.”
32
Emma
I don't know what to do with what he’s just said. I ask him to explain and he basically repeats himself without offering too much additional information.
He's hesitant and unsure.
Yet I feel like he's telling the truth.
We shared a few moments and I thought that we had a connection, but that's not a good enough reason for him to tell me something this private.
Yet here it is.
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and take my phone with me. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to decide what to do. I had already promised him that I'm not going to write this in the article and I am going to abide by that promise.
I have other questions, of course, but for now I feel thankful that he trusted me with this information.
After I use the bathroom, my phone rings. I'm tempted to let it go to voice mail, but it's Shelby and I realize that I had sent her the draft of my notes.
“Your article is brilliant,” she gushes as soon as I answer.
“Really?”
“Yes, I can't believe how good it is. You found out so much and it's so intriguing. I love the way that you are part of the story and we as the readers just get to go on this journey with you. I just know that everyone's going to love it.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
Blood drains away from my face and the tips of my fingers turn cold.
“What do you mean no?”
“This isn’t an article. I just did the research and wrote what I found, but I'm not going to publish it.” My mouth goes dry and it feels like it's stuffed full of cotton balls.
“Of course, you are,” she says, laughing, taking my comments as a joke. “You should really send it to Corrin. She's going to love it.”
“No, no, absolutely not,” I say in a rushed voice. “Shelby, you have to promise me that you're not going to send it to her.”
“What are you talking about? This is the best stuff that you've ever written.”
“I found out something else,” I say.
I shouldn’t tell her this, but I have to explain something.
“What? What did you find?”
Suddenly, I need to backtrack.
I can't tell her that I'm here having lunch with him. I need to keep this conversation private.
I also have to show her exactly how serious I am about none of this coming
to light.
“I was just thinking… What if Liam is in trouble? What if he had to change his name after he testified against his uncle?”
“Hello… Wow! I never thought of it that way. Of course!”
“Listen, just promise me that you're not going to tell Corrin anything about this until I have more things worked out. I still have no idea where the story is going.”
“I thought that you said that you didn't want this published it all?” Shelby asks.
She caught me in a lie. I'm not thinking clearly.
I'm trying to cover up for what I had already exposed and it feels a lot like trying to put the spilled milk back into its container.
“Okay, tell me this, what’s he like? In bed, I mean,” Shelby whispers.
This question catches me by surprise. How does she know?
Oh, yes, course.
In the notes in the draft of the article, I had mentioned that our relationship got personal. I didn't go into any details, but now I wish that I hadn't mentioned it at all.
“Listen, Shelby, I should have never sent this to you. I was just putting my thoughts together about everything that I found and–”
“I'm so glad that you did. You don't realize how good the story is. I mean, you found out so much. You just need to connect a few more dots and there you go.”
I take a deep breath.
She's clearly not getting it.
“Listen, you can't send this to anyone and you can't tell anyone about this. It's a draft. It is just some ideas. It’s just some research and I found out some stuff, but I don't want to get anyone in trouble.”
“You’re a journalist, Emma,” Shelby says in a more serious tone of voice. “Your job is to expose corruption and lies and to bring things to the surface that people want to cover up.”
I look down and press my index finger into the fleshy part of my thumb.
She fully understands what I'm saying but is not listening to me. I should be more stern with her perhaps, but I also don't want to push her and make her send the email to Corrin despite this.
I need her on my side.
I need to convince her that the story is nothing even though it's already everything.
“Look, Emma. I know that you don't want to come off as unprofessional. Maybe you shouldn’t have slept with Liam, but that's how life is. Your readers? They'll appreciate your honesty. So, what if you slept with him? That's just what makes the story that much more real.”
All the Secrets Page 14
