Claire: Not more bad news, I hope?
Jamie’s fingers froze above the keyboard. She could almost feel the tension radiating from her computer screen. This was it, the moment of truth. She braced herself for the horrible task ahead.
Jay: No. Good news! I’m moving to a new apartment. In the city. It’s a little place in Beacon Hill with a view of the Charles River. I can see the sailboats from my window! But it’s bad news, too, I guess, because the place is really small. Just a studio, in fact. So I don’t have room for guests. I’m afraid that’s going to make meeting in person any time soon really difficult.
Jamie’s fingers trembled atop the keyboard. She told herself she hadn’t meant to do it, to write that. Her pulse raced as she reread the words on the screen. Jamie often fantasized about moving to that part of Boston, but it was just that—a fantasy. And a fantasy that, while nice, had absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand. It certainly wasn’t something she had ever intended to post. But there it was, flashing back at her from cyberspace.
Somehow Jamie's fingers had taken over, and she'd had hit the enter key with her pinky almost by reflex. Now the lie had traveled all the way to Portland in a fraction of an instant. Thanks to technology, deception moved at lightning speed.
Claire: That sounds wonderful! I’ve heard of Beacon Hill and would love to see it someday. Just as I would love to see you. But I guess it might be a while.
Jay: I guess it will. I don’t have any vacation time or I’d come see you sooner…
Another lie. Jamie hadn’t taken a vacation in years. I can’t come see you right now because you’re bound to figure out I’m a girl if we meet in person. There was still time to address that particular elephant in the room before she got herself in too deep. She should just screw up her courage and start typing.
Claire: And I have the rest of the summer term ahead of me with no breaks. In fact, I’ve got a class to teach in a few minutes so I have to go. Could you do something for me?
Jay: Of course, just name it.
Claire: Send me a better picture of yourself. The one on your profile was really hard to see.
A picture. Well, that was one way to break the news. Just send her one of the ten thousand photos in which I actually look like a girl and she’ll catch on, guaranteed. And never talk to me again. Jamie sighed.
Jay: No problem. I’ll send it to you later today.
Now what? Jamie grabbed a CD labeled 'Esplanade' from a pile on Paul's desk. Those would be the photos Paul took when they went to the Fourth of July fireworks earlier in the summer. She popped the disk in her bag, then bolted out the door and hopped on her bicycle, pedaling frantically so she wouldn't be late to work.
When lunchtime arrived, Jamie slipped the photo CD into her work computer and opened a folder with her name on it. There were some good shots of her. Not a cowboy hat among them, so Paul would approve. She was smiling in most of them, looking cute and coy and not at all like a cowardly, deceitful liar. She chose one where her face wore a serious, soulful expression, and the afternoon sun glinted off her hair in just the right way so that it looked like a cloud of spun gold. It was a really good photo. Paul was a genius photographer. If any picture could make Claire decide to fall in love with Jamie even though she was not a man, this was the one that could do it. She should just type up her confession, attach the photo, and be done with it.
Only she couldn’t. Not yet. Jamie poked around idly on her computer, buying herself some time. There was another folder on the CD and Jamie opened it to find a picture of a tall, athletic man with sandy blond hair standing on the Esplanade, only without the crowds and mayhem of the fireworks photos. It must have been from one of Paul’s photo shoots in early summer. Probably for a catalog, if the model’s generically preppy wardrobe was any indication.
Jamie opened a few more. They were all of the same model, wearing different outfits, sometimes with a sailboat behind him, sometimes walking a dog. A golden retriever, naturally. Preppy New England model-types always had golden retrievers. Jamie didn’t care for dogs, didn't like they way they slobbered. She was more of a cat person. But she supposed the dog made a nice accessory for conveying that wholesome, all-American look.
Now, if only Jamie looked like this guy, she figured she could win Claire in a heartbeat. She didn’t need to be attracted to men to know this guy was the type who made straight girls swoon. But Jamie wasn’t that guy, or any guy. She wasn’t even the type of girl who had ever wished that she were a guy. She loved being a woman. But for the first time in her life, she regretted the fact deeply.
A little part of Jamie’s brain knew all along what she was going to do next and had the decency to be horrified about it. She was an honest person at heart. She wouldn’t dare fudge the numbers on her taxes or look at another person’s cards when they left for the bathroom in the middle of a poker game. In short, she was simply not the kind of person who would take a photo of a tall, blond model walking a golden retriever in front of a sailboat from her best friend’s portfolio and try to pass it off as herself to some poor, unsuspecting woman on the other side of the country. No, Jamie just wasn’t that kind of person. Which is why it came as such a surprise to her, at least to all but that little part of her brain that had seen it coming all along, when she attached the photo to her message and pressed send.
4
Jamie stared at the computer, stunned. She couldn’t believe she had actually just done what she’d done. Her hands shook and her heart raced with the adrenaline that coursed through her. Forget a morning at the gym—nothing could compare to perpetuating a big, fat lie when it came to raising the heart rate. Jamie massaged her temples with trembling fingers. She had gone too far and she knew it. But it was the only thing she could think of not to lose Claire. Not yet.
The universe had played a cruel trick, revealing her heart’s desire one minute only to snatch it away the next. The universe was always messing with her like that where love was concerned. She wasn’t going to let it win without a fight.
Is there any possible way I could get away with this? Absolutely not. No way. What if Claire wants more pictures? There were a few more in the file, she reasoned. She could send those at some point. But what about when Claire asked for a phone call or a video chat? Surely Jamie was in for it then. Best not dwell on that. More pictures, though. Jamie could do that and buy herself some time.
She took a look at the photos from Paul’s file again. The trouble with catalog photos was, well, they looked like they came from a catalog. They were all so similar. Jamie wondered if her computer skills would be sufficient to make them look more natural. Too bad she couldn’t call Paulie. He was a disaster at most technology, but an absolute master of photo manipulation. Still, Jamie knew her way around the basics well enough to give it a try, and she had plenty of time before lunch ended to get started.
She glanced out her office door and confirmed that her research assistant, Alan, had left for lunch. His desk was empty, and no one else appeared to be around. Jamie didn’t think she was violating any companies with what she was doing, but she didn’t exactly want anyone to catch her doing it, either. She grabbed an apple from her drawer to stave off hunger, pulled up the first picture of Blond Model Man, and got to work.
Twenty minutes later, the first photo was coming along but she’d hit a roadblock. She’d removed the model from the Esplanade and placed him in front of her favorite diner, then applied a few filters to make it look more like a snap shot. Something was off, though. Maybe the shadowing? Paulie would know how to fix it. Absentmindedly, she reached for her phone. It was only on the fourth ring that she remembered that what she was attempting to do was completely and utterly indefensible. It defied reason, common sense, and at least a hundred other qualities that good, decent people were supposed to possess. Before she could manage to hang up, Paul answered.
“Jay? What’s up, Girly?”
“Hi, Paulie. Nothing. I shouldn’t even be bothering you at w
ork.”
“Well, since you’re calling, it’s got to be a Photoshop question. Anything else and you’d just text.”
“How did you— um, yeah, it is.” Damn. How did he do that? He could read her mind. She would never get away with this. “So, I’ve got a picture I wanted to use in, um, a big report. For the Board of Directors. And I’m trying to get the shadows right but something looks funny.”
“Okay, well, send it to me.”
“Um, I can’t.”
“What, is it some super top secret photo of a mutant three-eyed fish or something?”
“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”
“You’re lying.”
Some master of deception she’d turned out to be. How would she ever keep up her charade with Claire if she couldn’t manage to lie to Paul for even a minute?
“Oh, Paulie,” she said with a sigh, “you don’t know the half of it.” Mortified, Jamie told Paul the whole story of sending Claire the first photo. “I tried to tell her, Paul. I really did. I just couldn’t do it. I know this can’t go anywhere, but I was really hoping to have a few more weeks. I like her so much. I’m not ready to let go.”
“This might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, Jay. And I say this as your best friend who has seen you at your dumbest. Which picture did you send her, anyway?” Paul listened as Jamie described it. “Oh, yeah. That's Blake. Damn, Girly. You've got some healthy self-esteem if you think the male version of you would look even half as fine as Blake. But you can’t use those pictures.”
“I know, Paul. I know what I’m doing is wrong—”
“No. Well, yes, it is, but that’s not what I mean. Those pictures belong to my client. I’ll be in deep shit if anyone ever finds out they were circulated without permission.” Paul hesitated. “Look, I've work with Blake a lot. I think I can find a few old candid shots, which I will let you use if you promise that you will only do so for the purpose of getting this girl out of your system. Got that?”
Jamie grinned into the phone. “Yes, Paulie, I promise.”
“I’m serious, Jay. You’re obsessed. So chat with this Claire girl and find out what’s wrong with her, because when you like them this much, there’s always something wrong with them. Then get over her, move on, find yourself a nice, local lesbian, and don’t be stupid again any time soon, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Paul. Love you.”
“Yeah, love you, too, Girly.”
That had gone a lot better than Jamie could have hoped. Sure, she was still a liar. And there was still no chance that she’d end up with Claire. But at least now Paul knew the truth and he didn’t hate her. That was something. Jamie took a deep breath and felt the tension in her temples ease. At least coming clean had settled her nerves.
The staccato ring of her office phone nearly sent Jamie catapulting from her chair. Her nerves weren’t as settled as she'd thought. The caller I.D. read Diane Swenson—her new boss. Jamie cringed. Her boss’ voice sounded strained as she asked Jamie to come to her office.
The woman is inscrutable, Jamie thought. She could be pleasant enough when it suited her, but it always felt like she was holding something back. Maybe Jamie just noticed it more because of how different she was from Dr. Matthews. He’d been a large, jovial Brit, and a major reason that Jamie had been drawn to the Marine Institute. When he’d been diagnosed with cancer, his abrupt retirement had dealt quite a blow, both to the research team and to Jamie personally. He’d been an excellent mentor.
The jury was still out on Dr. Swenson. Jamie was eager to do whatever she could to make a good impression. It was hardly a secret that Jamie was on the short list to replace Dr. Matthews as Head of Research. If she wanted the promotion, she knew she needed to shine.
Jamie looked with chagrin at the photo of Blake on her computer. Playing around with Photoshop at work ranked low on the list of ways to do that. She closed the file and scurried down the hall to Dr. Swenson's office.
Jamie stepped through the door and waited while her boss spoke on the phone. She tried not to fidget, but the woman made her nervous. Dr. Swenson had a demeanor that was as cold as it was professional. She was the Institute’s director, and her word was law. If she could ever get on her good side, Jamie knew it would do wonders for her career. She just wasn’t sure where to start. When Dr. Matthews left, his projects had been divided between Jamie and a rival colleague, and she was convinced their boss had given him all the best ones. Jamie wanted nothing more than a chance to prove her skills.
Setting the receiver down, Dr. Swenson looked Jamie directly in the eyes and spoke in a solemn tone. “A grave deception has just been brought to my attention.”
Could the woman be more cryptic? Jamie hadn’t the slightest idea what her boss meant. Wait, did she say deception? An image of Claire’s avatar flashed into her head, along with the photos of sandy-haired Blake. Jamie’s eyes grew wide. But how could she possibly know? Surely they weren’t monitoring the computers, were they? That was crazy. Careful, Jamie thought. Don’t let your guilty conscience run away with your imagination.
“Jamie, I’ve just received very distressing information about the meta-analysis that Philip Matthews was working on before his departure.”
“His work on global deep water ocean temperatures? That’s one of the projects you assigned to Dr. Michaels.” Jamie tried to hide the bitterness she felt. If the preliminary results held true, that study would prove that current calculations underestimated global warming rates by a factor of ten. She would’ve done anything to have her name attached to that research.
Dr. Swenson nodded. “Yes. And apparently Dr. Michaels has been telling anyone who will listen that the preliminary results were falsified.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Jamie nearly bubbled with outrage. The idea was absurd, and an insult to Dr. Matthews’ integrity.
“If this is true, it would be a disaster. When Dr. Matthews presented the preliminary findings at last year’s UN climate change conference, it put our Institute on the map. We added several major donors as a result, and we’re relying on that income.”
“Are you saying you really believe he lied about the results?” Jamie was horrified.
“Even if he didn’t, it might not matter. If the press gets a hold of it, we’re ruined,” Dr. Swenson replied. “Honestly, I can't imagine someone of Dr. Matthew's reputation deliberately manipulating results, but Dr. Michaels can't think of any other explanation.”
“Apparently not. And what exactly is he trying to explain?”
“He had his research assistant rerun the simulations to check the original results, and nothing matches up. That’s why I called you. This project needs a thorough review, and I’m an administrator, not a researcher. ”
“And Dr. Michaels, he gave it to an assistant to rerun? From scratch?” Jamie stifled a groan. Her colleague was both arrogant and lazy. Of course he’d insist on starting from scratch, and then assign it to someone else. It was about a million times more likely that he had screwed up the variables than that Dr. Matthews had lied. But proving it would be a challenge.
“Dr. Matthews thought very highly of you. I shouldn’t tell you that, perhaps. I know he was your mentor, but I need you to be objective, regardless of how it turns out.”
“Of course.” Jamie felt a thrill of pride. It was the closest thing to a compliment she’d ever received from Dr. Swenson.
Her boss' face softened into what nearly passed for a smile. “If you can fix this discreetly and we’re successful in keeping our funding, this could absolutely make your career.”
Jamie walked back to her office in a daze. Her boss had handed her the opportunity that could change the course of her career, if only she could solve this puzzle. She’d promised to be objective, but she couldn’t accept that Dr. Matthews would deliberately falsify results. It had to be Dr. Michaels’ screw up. Jamie sat at her desk and rubbed her temples, momentarily overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task ahead of her. Better get to work.
<
br /> She jiggled the mouse and her computer hummed back to life. Jamie’s eye was drawn to the corner of the screen where a Tech Cupid chat window sat open. A new message was waiting from Claire. Jamie sighed. She shouldn’t be chatting with Claire right now. She had too much work to do. In fact, she shouldn’t be chatting with her at all. Or sending her fake photos. Or continuing to lie to her. She shut her eyes tightly for a moment, pushing the thoughts back into the recesses of her brain. She closed the chat window without a reply.
No time for that now.
Jamie had a problem to solve and her mentor’s name to clear. Dr. Matthews wasn’t the type who would lie, Jamie was certain of it. I bet people think that about me, too, she chastised herself, thinking of Claire.
Oh, the irony.
5
Claire maneuvered her car into the driveway of her sister’s house. The smell of charcoal smoke and cooking meat wafted across the flagstone steps as she approached the vintage Craftsman cottage. The family would be in the back yard, with Theresa curled up to read in her favorite Adirondack chair while Larry flipped burgers and Jesse and Ryan tumbled on the grass. It was the same every week, a tableau of domestic perfection.
Sunday dinner with Theresa was a time honored ritual that was not to be missed, even during those times when Claire struggled not to feel sorry for her lonely, single self. Happily, today was not one of those days, though her current relationship status wasn’t exactly inspiring her to do handsprings across the lawn, either.
For starters, Jay had sent her another picture of himself and it’d made her very nervous. She had stared at that picture for hours, waiting for that giddy feeling she knew she was supposed to get, but so far it hadn’t come. There was no question that he was handsome. He could’ve been a model. And yet… the only thing she felt was nervousness that she hadn’t been overwhelmed with attraction the way she had hoped. On top of that, teaching positions in Boston were turning out to be even more ruthlessly competitive than she had thought. And now some major problem at his work had kept Jay offline completely since Thursday afternoon. It was starting to feel like she would never catch a break in this relationship thing.
Telling Lies Online Page 3
