The Lies: The Lies We Tell About Love, Life, and Everything in Between

by Christina C Jones

  I pushed out a cleansing breath, and fanned my face as I turned around. There in the door way, was Marshall, looking… shell-shocked. Obviously, he’d overheard.

  “Can I help you?” I asked. My tone was still snippy from the conversation with Scott, but I didn’t care, not then.

  He finally clamped his mouth closed, and gave a subtle headshake. “I… uh… I came across to see if you’d be interested in having lunch or something—”

  “It’s not a good time,” I interrupted, holding up my hand. “I don’t mean to be rude to you, and I know what Gina was trying to do, and I mean… you’re a handsome guy. But… you heard that, right?”

  He nodded. “I… I did.”

  “And what did it sound like to you?”

  With his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans, he chuckled. “It… sounded like this isn’t a good time.”

  “Right.”

  I dropped my gaze away from his, and stuck my phone back into my back pocket.

  “Hey,” he said, and I looked up again. “If it ever becomes a better time…”

  “It won’t.” Maybe harsh, but hey… that’s how I felt. “Congratulations again,” I told him as I passed to get back out to the main area of the salon. I’d meant to stop by the bathroom to check my face first, but the mirror at my station had to suffice. I quickly dabbed my eyes to fix my makeup, then started getting ready for my next client. I needed a head in front of me to make it through the afternoon.

  I hated feeling like this. I didn’t want to still be so angry, I didn’t want to feel so… bitter. But I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like I could just flip a damn switch to not be pissed anymore, no matter how desperately I wished that were the case. If it were… maybe so much could’ve been different.

  Maybe I wouldn’t still be alone.

  Maybe I could’ve had a healthy relationship without shooting it in the head, maybe jealousy and insecurity as saboteurs could’ve been a thing of my past. Maybe if I let it go, I could move on, the same way everybody else seemed to be doing.

  Hmph. Maybe one day I’ll get there…

  Just not today.

  &

  Sometimes, friendship looked like being present to let the people who loved you, celebrate you, even though you’d rather be doing pretty much anything else. So instead of drowning myself under a bottle of vodka in the quiet comfort of home… I was drowning myself under a bottle of vodka at the bar.

  Or, I had been, until Rob cut me off.

  “Where’s the good in your bestie sleeping with the owner’s son if I can’t drink as much as I want to?” I asked, rolling my eyes as the other bartender wouldn’t even look my way, for fear of stepping on Rob’s toes after he’d informed me I had enough to drink.

  Laughing, Rob continued with the complicated ass steps of whatever drink he was making. “The good in it is that your bestie’s boyfriend can make sure you stay upright on that stool.”

  “Upright is overrated,” I shot back, and Rob paused what he was doing, and turned around. Iris was always talking about his eyes, how they were so deep and soulful, the kind of eyes that saw right through you. I saw it. She loved it, but in that moment where he turned and looked at me, his expression marked with concern, I kinda hated it.

  “What’s up with you?” he asked, hands pressed against the low counter behind the bar, as he leaned toward me so we could talk without yelling. “You got your promotion, Zion passed his test today, you look good. But you seem like something is… off.”

  “I’m fine, Math Bae,” I teased, making him chuckle. “I’m good, seriously. Just tired. And tipsy. And tired,” I added again, as Iris and Gia came back to take the empty seats beside me at the bar.

  “Y’all are right on time,” he said, switching gears. He’d probably mention his concern to Iris later, but I appreciated that even with his “emotional honesty” shtick, he knew when to drop a conversation.

  “On time for what?” Gia asked, flipping a handful of her massive hair out of her face as Rob turned back to the drink he’d finally poured into the shaker.

  “To toast our senior stylist,” he said, then pulled down six shot glasses just in time for Derrick and Kyle to return from the chicks they’d been flirting with across the bar. To his credit, Kyle didn’t hold me any longer, or seem to squeeze me any harder than the other girls when he’d first greeted us, and passed out hugs, but I noticed that instead of finding a seat now, he maneuvered into the space between my seat and the wall.

  “Since you’re a senior stylist now, when are you gonna hook me up,” he asked. “I need somebody to touch up my locs for me.”

  “What happened to whoever was doing it for you before?” Gia called, from a few seats down, and I sucked my teeth.

  “His dick is what happened, most likely,” I said before he could answer, then turned to him, daring him to contradict it.

  He sucked his teeth. “You just think I fuck every attractive woman I know, huh?”

  I shook my head. “Of course not. I think you probably fuck every woman you know. That’s how being a hoe works.”

  “Dammmmn,” he said, putting his fist to his mouth as he laughed. “You think I’m a hoe?”

  “Are you… not?” Iris asked, completely serious, and Rob almost choked on his own tongue laughing.

  “Wait a damn minute,” Kyle said, leaning back against the wall. “I know the – what did you call him, Iris, an Instagram honey? Yeah. – I know the Instagram Honey of the group isn’t acting like he wasn’t knocking ‘em down back in Cali before he moved here and Mrs. Black Iris came and settled him…”

  I laughed. “Kyle, you’re an Instagram Honey too! And I mean… you’re a single man, I’m not judging you for being a hoe. Hell, I’ve had my turn at being that too.”

  “As have I,” Iris added, shaking her head, and Gia chimed in the affirmative too, And Derrick chuckled.

  “Let me come to my homeboy’s defense a little bit though – Don’t you think him being a former professional baller might affect your opinion of him? Like, women hear that you’re in a certain profession, and automatically put that “hoe” stamp on you, without really knowing.”

  Gia shook her head. “No… we put the “hoe” stamp on men when they’re fine – not always because of the job. Hoe. Hoe. Hoe,” she said, pointing at Derrick, then Rob, then Kyle. “Don’t get me wrong – no one is saying you can’t be faithful, or couldn’t be a good partner. I am saying that when good looking men aren’t in committed relationships, they’re usually hoes. Which a single person is well within their rights to be, if that’s what they want to do.”

  “But I am not,” Kyle interjected. “Yes, I enjoy the company of women, but contrary to what seems to be popular belief, I am not out here sticking my dick in everything that moves. And I don’t appreciate the implication, Brandi,” he said pointedly at me, poking me in the side to make me giggle.

  “Fine, maybe not,” I laughed. “But, answer this… You screwed the woman who was retwisting your locs didn’t you?”

  His lips pressed together as he gave me a blank face, and tried to keep from laughing, but he couldn’t. He covered his face with his hand as he groaned. “Man, it was one damn time.” And we all burst into laughter.

  Shaking my head, I watched Rob pour a creamy-looking liquid between the six glasses, then start passing them out, hesitating when it came to me.

  “Boy, give me that damn shot,” I laughed, reaching across the bar.

  He held it just past my fingertips, with a stern expression. “I’m only giving you this cause it’s your night… after this, I’m forreal, no more.”

  “Fine, dad!” I slurred, then quickly cleared my throat, hoping no one else had caught it. Maybe I had had a bit too much. “What is this anyway?” I asked slowly, carefully, and Iris chimed in.

  “Yeah. It smells really sweet.”

  Rob grinned. “Well, that’s cause it’s inspired by our girl Brandi’s favorite dessert – pecan pie,” he said, then held u
p his glass. The rest of us followed suit, clinking our glasses together, and I couldn’t help grinning hard as hell as they screamed “Congrats, B!” in unison at me before we all downed our shots.

  “Oh my God,” I moaned, as the liquor slid down my throat.

  “What the hell did you put in that? It’s amazing,” Iris asked him, and she wasn’t exaggerating at all. Perfectly smooth, warm, sweet, creamy… I wanted to order another one, but I knew I’d be pushing my luck.

  “What you gone do for the bartender’s secret? It’s gonna cost you,” Rob flirted, and Iris pulled her lip between her teeth as she blushed. Kyle’s glass hitting the bartop beside me pulled my attention away from the lovebirds, and I looked at him just as he was turning to put his back to the bar.

  Before tonight, I hadn’t seen Kyle since that day in the gym, almost a week and a half ago. It felt like longer though, especially since I’d been losing days to busyness with the details of my new title at the salon. Being away from him, and insanely busy, had worked in my favor – I hadn’t had time or energy to be horny, and since the night with him was the best sex I’d had in… maybe ever… my thoughts would have definitely gone to him.

  But now that he was right beside me, looking good, and smelling good, and— “The shot was nice… but you taste better.” – Saying shit like that in my ear… my body was wide awake, and sending out signals that let me know it was time to go.

  “I think that may have put me over the top,” I said, louder than intended, pulling myself down from my barstool. “I’m gonna head home.”

  “We’ll walk you!” Gia and Iris were out of their seats before I could protest, but I shook my head anyway.

  “Gia, you live the exact opposite direction, and Iris, I thought you were helping Rob close up tonight? What, are you gonna walk back by yourself?”

  “Kyle lives out in your direction, B. Why don’t you let him walk you? That good with you?” Rob said, speaking in Kyle’s direction.

  Kyle shrugged, the perfect picture of nonchalance, even though he knew what he’d just done to me. “Good by me. I don’t mind helping B get home safe.”

  “Whatever,” I said, turning for the door. If you’re coming, come on,” I told him, then hugged Gia and Iris, and waved goodbye to Derrick and Rob.

  Kyle caught up to me a few steps later, pressing a hand to the small of my back as he leaned in to speak into my ear again. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we both come.”

  “See there,” I said, pursing my lips at him. “Hoe antics.”

  He laughed as we stepped out into the cool, crisp air. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to warm my body against the unexpected drop in temperature.

  “Damn,” he said. “I don’t have a jacket to give you, but look, I can do this right here,” he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind, which was admittedly pretty cozy. “We can walk like this.”

  “I’ll be okay,” I giggled, squirming my way out of his arms.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure? The offer doesn’t expire…”

  “Oh I’m very sure. Wouldn’t want to get beat up by one of your girlfriends, you know?”

  “Chill with that,” he chuckled, as we headed down the sidewalk. “I told you nobody wants me like that. Y’all always think I’m a hoe.”

  “Awww! Did that hurt your feelings? I really didn’t mean any offense by it.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me anything after the fact.”

  “Oh please.” I playfully shoved at him, which didn’t even make him budge, but he caught my arm, looping his through it, which I was grateful for. I was feeling a little too loose, and I appreciated the support of his sturdy frame. “Seriously though… thanks for walking me home.”

  “It’s no trouble, B. I noticed you were putting back drinks a little harder than you normally do. What’s up with you? You good?”

  “Wow, what is this? You being all concerned, is this you being a homie?”

  He shrugged. “Classify it in whatever way makes you answer the question. And give me a real answer, not that bullshit for when you just want to be left alone.”

  “But what if I just want to be left alone?”

  “Shit, you’re out of luck tonight. It’s a nice little walk to get you home, so we may as well talk about something.”

  Shaking my head, I stared out in front of us, at the people passing on the sidewalk. It was a Friday night, so the streets were busy, but Kyle kept me close, posing such a menacing figure at his height and build that people gave us room. Neither of us said anything until we’d reached a crosswalk, and had to wait for the light to change before we could go. Kyle turned to me, eyebrows lifted, expectation on his face as his met mine.

  “So…?”

  I sucked my teeth. “So, what?”

  He scoffed. “Come on, B. What’s on your mind?”

  “What’s on my mind is that I never should have agreed to be your “homie”, if it means you’re going to be doing shit like this.”

  “Shit like what?”

  “Asking about my feelings and stuff. I thought Rob was the only one on that, I didn’t realize y’all were all on that “emotional honesty” stuff.”

  Kyle laughed. “I mean… I wouldn’t say I was “on that emotional honesty stuff”, but… it usually feels better to just say what you feel, instead of keeping shit bottled up, and talking around it.”

  “Most of the time,” I started, accepting his tug to get us across the street. “People don’t really want to know what’s up, even though they asked. They want you to reassure them that you’re fine, so that they don’t have to feel guilty for staying absorbed with their own shit.”

  “Damn.” He stopped walking again, turned to face me. “That’s what you think everybody is on? That’s what you think your friends do?”

  I shook my head. “No. Friends are different. My friends are different.”

  “So okay then, what’s up with you?” he asked, pulling his shoulders up as he raised his hands. “I’m asking because I genuinely want to know. You were knocking back shots, your whole vibe is just… off. What’s up with you?”

  I sighed, then started walking again on my own, moving as fast as my tipsy feet could go without me toppling over. Kyle caught up to me quickly, but didn’t say anything or even try to touch me. I didn’t look up at him until we made it to the next crosswalk.

  “Zion is with his dad. All weekend. He wanted to go,” I said, staring up at the bright orange hand on the crosswalk light. “I didn’t want him to, but I don’t… I don’t ever want it to be said that I kept him from his father.” I shook my head, wondering why the hell the signal to let us across the street was taking so long. “I came out tonight thinking it would help, but I can’t chill. I can’t relax. He didn’t want my baby for ten, eleven years, and now all of a sudden, he wants to be SuperDad. I want that for Zion, he deserves a father who wants him. But this… I don’t trust him. I don’t like him. But I know I have to do this. I know, that as long as Scott isn’t abusing him, I have to let it happen. Even if Zion ends up hurt… I just have to let it happen, because if I stand in the way… it’ll be something else.”

  I stopped talking to look at Kyle, who hadn’t said anything. He was wearing a look that was almost like the one Marshall had been giving me, and I shook my head.

  “See? That right there, that look you’re giving me like I’m crazy, is exactly why I blow people off when they come at me with that “how are you?” stuff. They can never handle it.”

  “Hold up,” he said, raising a hand. “If you’re think I’m looking at you like you’re crazy, you’re misunderstanding. My face is probably looking screwed up right now because you said that nigga “didn’t want your baby for ten, eleven years”. What does that even mean?”

  I sucked my teeth. “It means exactly what I said. Scott pretended that neither I, nor Zion existed up until a few years ago. Now he claims to have finally grown up, and he wants to do right by him, but…” I shook my
head. “Let’s just say I’m hoping to be proved wrong.”

  Kyle nodded, then guided me across the street, which put us into the quieter, more residential part of our neighborhood. “You’re not like… worried about Zion’s safety or anything, are you?” he asked.

  “No. If I had even a shred of concern about that, I wouldn’t have let him go.”

  “Then… I know you don’t really have history to fall back on with ol’ boy, but if he’s trying to be SuperDad… trust him to be that, until he gives you a new reason not to. Not suggesting at all that you should forget the shit he did, cause it was foul, but don’t make yourself sick waiting on him to mess up again, you know? He deserves you being suspicious of him, until he proves himself, but not to the extent that it’s messing with your mental state.”

  I let out a dry chuckle as we approached my building. “That’s much easier said than done.”

  “You just need the right distraction,” he laughed. “What do y’all do – find some chick flicks, have a girls night or something.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

  We stopped in front of the door to my building, and Kyle pushed his hands back into his pockets. He looked good as hell tonight, in a deep blue button-up and jeans, with his locs pulled back with a simple band. My face, and other places, got a little hot as the memory of pulling that band off, burying my fingers in his hair while he drove into me played in my head, before I shook it away.

  “You want me to walk you upstairs?” he asked from over my shoulder as I pressed in my code to get in the building.

  “I’m surprised you’re asking.”

  He shrugged. “You didn’t really seem like you wanted company on the walk in the first place, so I figured you would think the front door was far enough.”