Lies In Rewind

by Tali Alexander

  Louis turns around and replies, “I always do, Willy-Boy, I always do.” He throws back a shot of whiskey and heads towards the door. “You have until nine AM to evacuate this hotel or security will help throw you out. This time, you happened to walk into my hotel, and I don’t plan on sharing half my bed with you. New York is mine and so is my wife, remember that!”

  Without another word, he leaves. “Cheerio, arsehole!” I call after him. Bloody marvelous, now I need to get to the bottom of his threat and I still need to find a way to speak to Emily. She needs to know! There is no way he owns this hotel. I would bloody know if he owned the goddamn Pierre! The fucker is bluffing, just trying to run me out of town. No chance, I’m talking to Emily if it’s the last thing I do.

  “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” by Belinda Carlisle

  It takes us over an hour to drive less than thirty-five blocks in New York City. Traffic is insane as usual and pulling up to a hotel on 5th Avenue is virtually impossible. The amount of tourists in this city is inconceivable at times. Em’s driver finally lets us off on 61st Street, right in front of the hotel’s main entrance. Security ushers the two of us inside like we own the joint. Emily and Louis are New York royalty and knowing them as just Emily, my best friend, and Louis, the guy who worships at her feet, is sometimes surreal. Seeing the girl you pee in front of on the cover of gossip magazines is still something I need to get used to.

  Once we’re inside the hotel, everything happens fast; we don’t go anywhere near the check-in counter and we seamlessly follow a man that leads us to a waiting elevator where we’re whisked off to the penthouse suite at The Pierre hotel. The elevator attendant greets Emily, obviously knowing exactly who she is. Emily introduces me and lets her know I’ll be staying at their apartment for as long as I need. The elevator stops and we walk into a foyer that puts many of the top hotel lobbies in New York to shame. I know that once the mirrored doors open I will step foot into what only a handful of fortunate elites have ever seen. The middle set of doors part for us and it’s hard to believe this kind of opulence exists.

  Emily leads the way into the biggest ballroom I have ever seen. The sweeping staircase in the distance belongs in the grand library or a museum, definitely not a private residence on the forty-first floor on 5th Avenue. It’s bigger than the Bruels’ townhouse, for crying out loud.

  My family is very well off. I’ve never heard the word “No” when it came to buying clothes, shoes or taking trips. But what the Bruels have is something entirely different. Their type of wealth you only read about; it’s the kind of money that will open any door. And believe it or not, Emily does not flaunt her status. Any other woman would be shopping day and night, surrounding herself with other wealthy snobby socialites, but not my Emily. I secretly love how my best friend only wants to spend time with her family and me. She doesn’t let strangers into her inner circle. Besides her sister, Jenna, and me, Louis is her only other best friend. Their bubble is something to admire and strive for. Not that I could ever find someone that would only need my company the way her husband wants and needs to spend every breathing moment of his time with her. Anyway, Emily will never make another human question their worth in her presence. She’s humble to a fault and couldn’t be more down to earth if she tried.

  She watches me take in this lavish suite we’ve entered and stands right next to me, taking it all in as well. Her eyes are dancing with excitement as though this isn’t her lifestyle. I love that. We both smile at each other and I instantly think back to our slumber parties back when we were teenagers. She wasn’t allowed to sleep anywhere but home, and my parents couldn’t give a shit where I slept, so I would end up sleeping at her house almost every weekend. We would start off in separate rooms, but we always snuck in and ended up falling asleep in the same bed. Oh, the good ol’ days. Where does the time go?

  “What do you think?” she asks me with a ridiculous smile.

  “‘Heaven Is A Place On Earth’ by Belinda Carlisle,” I answer with an expression I’m sure mirrors her own. Not sure why I’m so happy! I have more problems than God and I haven’t figured out anything except that I won’t be needing to crash at my brother’s or my parents’ or be alone at a hotel somewhere. “Tonight, will you fuck your husband extra hard for me?”

  Her face drops before she starts smiling again. “If that statement came out of anybody else’s mouth, I’d scratch their eyes out. Only you can say shit like that to me and it’s actually comforting to hear.” She smirks my way. She knows I wouldn’t touch Louis if he were the last sperm donor on the planet. I may have slept with a married man my whole adult life, but Louis and Emily are family. It’s like Eddie always said to me, “you don’t shit where you eat.”

  We laugh as we continue to inspect my humble abode for the next month. I look over to a beautifully-set table and I swear it’s like Pinkoulicious did the catering in honor of our arrival. Pink cupcakes, pink macaroons, pink mousse, pink lemonade, I think I even see pink tea sandwiches and wraps. I look over to see Emily holding her head in her hands and shaking it from side to side.

  “Sara, I’m sorry! I told Louis we needed some girl bonding time and this is what he thinks women eat when they bond. He’s not well, it’s the drugs they have him on.”

  We both erupt into uncontrollable laughter. It’s incredibly sweet how thoughtful her crazy husband is. To think that we’re standing here, laughing, when only a month ago, Louis had been fighting for his life. If something would’ve happened to him, I don’t know how Em would go on. He really is her whole life, her first real kiss, her first love, her first everything…hopefully, first and last, I think sadly to myself.

  I always thought the boy I first kissed would turn into the person that I’d get the privilege of kissing for the rest of my days. Em must think that I lost count of how many men I’ve kissed in my life, but I can count them all on one hand with three fingers: Jeffery, Phillip, and Gavin. I don’t even know if Gavin really counts as a kiss since we never actually kissed in private or exchanged spit. What a sad life I’ve lived. I wish I could tell Em the truth. How did I manage to lie and fool her for so long? I think I even fooled myself into believing that I can pick up any guy and just fuck his brains out and walk away. I think I’m the girl that can have one-night stands and never look back. If they only knew. Only I get to carry the burden of my lies and suffer the aftermath. I could’ve had a life, but I chose, and continue to choose to keep the charade going.

  Emily is already directing my luggage upstairs; she orders us some sushi instead of her husband’s food choices, and makes sure it’s not pink. She walks over to me with a flute of pink champagne and says, “‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ by Cindy Lauper.” Clinking our glasses, she adds, “What happens at The Pierre stays at The Pierre,” and winks her baby blues at me.

  “Here’s to you telling me all about sleeping with someone other than Louis. And to ‘Little Lies’ by Fleetwood Mac,” I reply and wink right back at her. “Louis doesn’t have this place bugged, right?” I ask, almost choking on my champagne as that thought hits my brain mid-sip.

  “I’d rip his balls out. He hasn’t given me a moment of privacy since we got back home. If he’s listening in on our conversation, I’ll kill him.”

  Yeah, he wouldn’t go that far, I think reassuringly to myself as I go to plant my ass on the comfy-looking cream-colored couch that’s calling my name. The staff is starting to leave one by one. I was adamant on our ride over that I don’t want a guard or a nanny to watch over me. I’m a nobody and I only plan to use one room and eat out or order in; therefore, I don’t need more than bi-weekly housekeeping services. The Bruels will obviously not let me pay for any of this shit, so I don’t plan on taking advantage of their generosity.

  “Can we talk about why your hair is so dark? I can’t even see any of your blond,” Em, states matter-of-factly, picking up a pink olive from our smorgasbord of pink treats. She lifts her eyes at me, pinning me with a stare. Fuck, do I really have to tel
l her why my hair is almost black? “Sara, what’s up? You’ve been completely not my Sara ever since you married that asshole, whose name I won’t even mention because I’m not trying to upset you or me. But Eddie did mention to Louis that he’s worried about you. And you know I am as well. If you have something to say, you’d tell me, right? You know I would never judge you. I’m here for you—good or bad.”

  I nod as I look down, and once again, that feeling of shame and sadness spreads through my body like cold, liquid fire.

  I need her to stop focusing on me and start telling me what’s got her out of sorts. “Can we please go back to why you’ve called this meeting today? We need to talk about your mystery lover and why he’s here,” I say with exaggerated hand gestures. Em rolls her eyes and flops down on the identical couch facing mine. “Spill the beans, Emily Marcus.”

  She smiles when I call her by her maiden name. “He was a nice guy. I thought he genuinely felt bad for me and just wanted to help me out. You know I’m a naïve dimwit, Sara, I get fooled too easily,” Em says in a small voice with her eyes closed.

  I think of how I’ve lied to her our whole friendship and how spot-on her statement truly is. She is in many ways incredibly naïve and gullible. Emily has always accepted any stupid story I’ve told her over the years without requiring much proof or asking millions of questions. She has never doubted my tales and I guess it’s one of the reasons I love her so much; she accepts me as I am, even if she really has no idea who her best friend really is. She wants to believe people are good and that whatever comes out of their mouth is the actual God’s honest truth. She wants to believe that all men love their wives unconditionally the way her dad, husband, and brother-in-law love their wives. We couldn’t be more opposite on our views about love and marriage. I’ve seen my parents in action so I know firsthand that fairytale love stories are exactly that, they’re fairy tales that our parents tell us until we know better. Knowing Emily and her perspective on relationships I understand how broken she got when she saw Louis walk out of that hotel with another woman. It was nothing she could’ve ever imagined, and rightfully so. Just like she would never think that her best friend is the world’s best liar.

  “Em, babes, I’m still confused about what happened in St. Lucia, so I need you to give me the details and then we’ll figure out how to deal.” I look over at the window behind where Emily is laying down and I think to myself, where is he? He already texted me his daily I love you text, is he thinking of me right now? Does he know that I’m not okay?

  “So, I should probably start by telling you how I got to St. Lucia in the first place,” Emily finally says to me. “This conversation is long overdue, but I first need for you to understand how it all happened. The morning before I ran away, I was at The Plaza with Jenna, and Louis and I had already been fighting for weeks. We hadn’t made love in months. He was the biggest dick to me that morning after I told him about a bad dream I had, so I think you get the picture of my overall frame of mind that day. Then I saw him walk out of the elevator with a beautiful woman by his side and I had a complete and utter meltdown. I don’t remember leaving Jenna, walking home, or how I even got home; it’s just one big mush in my head. I remember sitting in my closet thinking that my world was over—lights out, bye-bye. How could I live knowing that Louis, my Louis, was somewhere loving another woman, touching her, kissing her, making love to her? How could I go on when he is my whole heart, not just half my heart? Sara, I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to get hit by a car and just stop the pain. We haven’t been intimate in months. Us! Can you imagine? The man who couldn’t let me pass him by without somehow touching me, the man who sent me at least four messages and texts a day telling me what he wants to do to me once he gets home, that same man just checked out and slowly started to withdraw from any intimacy with me whatsoever.” She takes a deep breath and I see the tears running down her face. I get up off my couch and come lie next to her, nestling her close to me. She takes a few more deep breaths and continues.

  “I couldn’t tell Jenna, I’ve never involved anybody in our personal issues. I mean, you know how it is, married couples fight and then they make up and everything goes back to normal. Why involve more people for no reason? I didn’t say anything to her or Mike because they were happy, they just had a baby. You know how much my parents love Louis; I didn’t feel right complaining to them and making them worry. I truly believed he was too busy at work to make time for me. You and I weren’t talking, who could I have told about this? I was completely alone.”

  I was a selfish bitch when I stopped talking to Em after Gavin and I got married. She was the only one smart enough to question our phony relationship and I was too scared she’d know the truth and ruin my master plan. Those were the hardest years of my life. And now, hearing her tell me that she had no one to turn to is gut wrenching. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m even more disgusted with myself.

  “All I remember is crying for hours and then I decided that I needed to get my shit together. I knew that I needed some alone time to clear my head and fight through the paralyzing fear of ending up alone and without him. I’m a mother, I have kids to worry about, and whether my husband decided to find a new lover or a new wife, I still needed to be Rose and Eric’s mother. I picked myself up and left as far away from him and his city as I physically could. Before I got to the airport, I made a deal with myself in the cab that I would take the first non-domestic flight that I could get on. St. Lucia was my destiny and off I went.” Emily untangles herself from our canoodling and goes in search of a tissue and some water, I think. I hear her blow her nose before she climbs back to her spot on the couch and cuddles into me again.

  “Sara, you’d be proud of how drunk I got on that flight. When I got off that plane, my brain was too fucked up to function and I just fell asleep on a bench outside the airport.” She raises her hand in the air as if swearing, letting me know she’s serious.

  “Shut-the-fuck-up! You slept outside on a dirty bench, alone? You stupid cow, you could’ve been raped or killed.”

  She nods her head; wow, she must’ve been so far gone. “My phone was dead, I didn’t have a charger, and I was having a mental crisis on a wooden bench in the middle of the night in a goddamn Caribbean Island that I’ve never been to.”

  “I’m sorry.” Now it was my turn to cry. “When I got your text ‘It Must’ve Been Love’ by Roxette, I thought you were talking about me and my divorce. I told Eddie it was okay to tell you, and I was hoping you’d call me once you knew that Gavin and I were over. I’m sorry. I was sure it was meant for me. I should’ve called you! I should’ve answered your text but I was embarrassed after the way I left things off in London…I didn’t even invite you to our stupid wedding dinner in New York.” Emily wipes my tears with her used napkin. “Does that tissue have your shnats?” I ask her as we both laugh.

  “Only my tears, I threw the booger tissue out. We can be tear sisters; two twats crying for no good reason. Don’t worry about not inviting me, I told Louis that I wouldn’t have gone even if you did. He was awful, Sara. Anyway, back to my story. In the morning, I asked a random luggage porter at the airport to recommend a hotel. He said Le Spa. I got on a helicopter and got myself there in less than half hour. So, listen to this part,” Em says as she sits up to start employing hand gestures to continue her destructive tale. We’re New Yorkers, I love how we talk with our hands.

  “When I get there, I find out that the hotel is completely sold out. Zero rooms. The guy at the reception calls over his manager to try and help me arrange another hotel. The manager showed up and was looking at me like he’s seen me before. But people sometimes look at me that way because they may have seen my picture by Louis’ side in magazines. I never pay any attention to it, but then he said my name without me offering it to him, which once again, I chalked up to him reading Fortune or Money magazine, which Louis always gives interviews for.” A knock sounds at the door and Em stops her story to go retrieve ou
r sushi delivery.

  A few minutes later, with a full spread of spicy Tuna and California rolls in front of us, she continues her sordid tale. “Sara, this perfect stranger was ridiculously nice to me. I was a mess, crying at the idea of calling Louis my ex-husband. This guy was trying to make me laugh and saying sweet things. He offered to give me his room. I refused at first but I was so out of it. My brain, body, and especially my heart were on life support. I needed a break and he was it.”

  “Why didn’t you call or check your messages to make sure everything was okay at home?” I ask, knowing that it would be the natural thing for her to do. Emily is always responsible. Her not calling to check in is not her style.

  “Remember I told you my phone was dead? Will was nice enough to offer me his phone and when I called home, Pam picked up.”

  “Who’s Pam?” I really know nothing about her life anymore, I think sadly to myself.

  “Pam is my housekeeper. She picked up and told me my parents slept over that night at my house. When I asked her where Louis was, she said he didn’t come home. I asked if the kids were okay and then I hung up. I had it all figured out; Louis left me and didn’t come home. My parents came to stay with the kids because Louis was MIA. At that point, I just wanted my life to end on that beach in St. Lucia.”

  Em tells me this whole story without looking at me. Her eyes are closed and I know she’s beating herself up inside. She no doubt blames herself for Louis’ heart attack, and I’m not sure what I need to say to her to make it better.

  So, I decide the best thing is for me to be me, and say what Em expects me to say, “Where is the part about you ending up in bed with the manager of that hotel?”

  She finally opens her tear-filled eyes and smirks. At that moment I know she needs me to be me. “Will actually owns that hotel. He gave me his room and I agreed only because he explained that he would be staying at his parents’ Villa a few miles from the hotel grounds. His family owns half the properties in St. Lucia.”