Lies In Rewind

by Tali Alexander

  “Brian, this is going to sound really shitty but I shouldn’t have texted you earlier. I was just mad and fighting with my boyfriend,” I say and point to the oblivious handsome stranger sitting just far enough away to not hear what I’m saying. Brian looks over at my fake stand-in boyfriend and sure enough, the handsome stranger smiles at us and nods his hello. Perfect!

  He lowers his head in disappointment before lifting it up with a sly smile and says, “Okay, I don’t want to cause any trouble, unless you’re looking to spice up your relationship. I actually thought you were married, but if you and your boyfriend are cool with me joining in, I don’t mind sharing you tonight.” He lowers his head and whispers in my ear, “I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for a while and my dreams usually come true. Or I can always wait until the next time you have a fight with him.” He waves to my fake boyfriend once again, who is now sitting back and watching us intently. “Would you like that? Do you want me to join you guys? We can both enjoy you, and I am very hungry!” Brain whispers with a smirk and a wink, making me regret wearing panties because they’re drenched.

  I shake my head and smile, thinking how amazing it would be if the first time I had sex with someone other than Jeff would be with two gorgeous men. Yeah, right. Ha! Maybe “The Sara” would be up for that kind of adventure, but I’m too much of a pussy to have sex with anyone other than Jeff, let alone two men at the same time. It’s especially funny when one of those men in question doesn’t even know what he’s not going to be part of…funny and sad, simultaneously.

  Brian gives me a kiss on the cheek, waves goodbye to our ignorant stranger and leaves. As soon as he’s gone I let out a big breath and sit back down at my spot by the bar. Thank God that’s over; it almost ruined my grand scheme. I go back to writing notes when I’m interrupted once again. For the love of God, what now?

  “Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” some weird-looking guy with a thick southern accent and a beer belly asks, standing way too close for comfort.

  I roll my eyes, raising my hand to say no thanks. Old tourist man doesn’t understand my hand gesture and sits his old ass at the empty seat right next to me.

  “Thank you for the offer but I already have a drink. I’m waiting for someone and I’d like to get some work done…on my own,” I say, emphasizing the last part. He nods his head and remains seated at my side. I try to ignore him but his BO and cheap cologne is fucking with my concentration. He also keeps looking at me every couple of seconds. Some men have so much confidence it’s utterly bewildering. I can’t imagine having the balls to come up to a guy I find attractive and offer to buy him a drink, and when he refuses, just sit right down next to him and fucking stare. What the fuck? Where do they get this self-assurance? It can’t be the mirror. The urge to scream starts to surface.

  I’ve made zero progress with my plan of attack. This redneck at my side has got me so off track that I forgot my train of thought altogether. I don’t have much time, and as I try to find a document on my phone, the rude weirdo slides his hand up my thigh and sends shock waves of creepy crawlers up my body.

  This cannot be happening to me!

  “We Don’t Need Another Hero” by Tina Turner

  I’ve been killing time at the little Italian restaurant located inside the hotel for hours. I’ve only left my post once to piss and I’m attempting to stay away from the manager who escorted me out of my suite this morning. I need to stay out of his sight until I meet Emily later tonight. I try to compose my excitement and my scattered thoughts. I ought to be sharp about this chance and figure out how to tell her about her dog of a husband and yet not seem like a jealous hater. I don’t know what he’s already told her about me. She may think I tried to hurt her in St. Lucia.

  I go over the events of that night in St. Lucia in my head. I didn’t harm her. I never forced her to do anything she didn’t ask me to do. We were both a little zonked…well, she was very hammered. I can bet my left nut that half the things she told me about herself she’d probably never uttered out loud. I think back to the way she begged me to come back to her room, well, it was really my room, but I moved my rubbish out of there for her. She asked me to rub her feet, but then she removed her top and bra and sat in my lap, presented her bare back for me to massage instead of her feet. I remember rubbing her shoulders and thinking that in my wildest dreams I’d never see this, us interacting like this. After walking in on Brandy sucking Jason’s knob, I truly had no desire to even talk to another woman. Emily came out of nowhere and I’m still reeling at my level of infatuation with her. Maybe it’s because I’ve followed their lives for years. Maybe it felt like I knew her because in some creepy-stalker way I really did, even before we’d officially met.

  After Isa got discharged from the hospital for trying to harm herself for the second time, my parents asked her to move in with them. She refused so I moved in with her to make sure she’d never feel alone. I recall her crying for days, begging me to explain what some ordinary, young, stupid, American girl named Emily had that she didn’t. Demanding to know why Louis treated Emily like a queen yet disposed of Isa like yesterday’s rubbish. My heart bleeds every time I think back to what Isa wrote in that book. I wonder if Louis ever did those things with Emily, too. God, I can’t think this way. Emily would never watch as her husband fucked other women in front of her like Isa did with him. Emily bloody ran away from him when she saw him at a hotel with one of his whores. He would never allow his dirty pack of mates to do the things he let them do to Isa in front of him. My sister vividly described what kind of events he orchestrated to get himself off. Acid rises, burning at my throat as I get myself all worked up yet again. Isa let him do anything he wanted in the hopes of being the chosen one, and in the end, he chose Emily, a young, innocent girl who’d never even had a boyfriend before him. He no doubt tainted every inch of her. I wish I could go back in time and save them both from the fucking devil known as Louis Bruel.

  I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice how the hours are passing me by. I look down at my phone and it’s almost seven PM. I stand up to stretch out before sitting back down. I’ve had two bloody salads already. In three short hours, I will see her again. My emotions are all over the place today. I’m afraid that when we do finally see each other, face-to-face, it won’t be what I’ve let myself imagine. I’m worried that maybe it was all one-sided. Perhaps only I felt the intense connection we had that night. Lord, what will I do with myself if she tells me to piss off and leave her alone? What if she’s waiting for me with him to try and make a fool out of me? Maybe Louis will try to humiliate me by having Emily reject me in front of him. That scenario tauntingly plays out in my mind, and yet I know with certainty that I am willing to take that chance, for at least I will go down knowing I’ve told her everything he’s been keeping away from her for years.

  I’ve been staring at my phone and at her texts for over an hour. I can’t help but open my photo folder on my iPhone to look through the dozens of pictures we took together that one night. I have one shot that I’ve been wanking off to for the last three weeks. Emily is squeezing her big tits together with her mouth slightly ajar. My fingers are pinching her pink nipples and I can’t stop myself from smiling like a loon. I look up to make sure no one but me is privy to my exclusive Emily show when I see a couple looking right at me. I nod my head and shut my phone at once. I have a full-on boner that I may need to go take care of somewhere privately. I look for the loo when the guy and girl from before look straight at me once again. This time the bloke raises his hand and waves at me, I wave back. That’s a bit odd, I ponder to myself. The bird at his side smiles my way before kissing him on the cheek. The fella glances back my way as he leaves, giving me two thumbs up. What in the bloody hell was that all about? I think as my erection still strains at my trousers.

  I try to calm my thoughts about Emily and her tits when a little while later I see another man approach that same poor bird at the bar. Maybe she’s a call girl, I rec
kon, which does nothing to calm down my dick. I sit back and watch how this beastly old man sits down and watches over her as she writes on her pad. He moves back and checks out her fit arse and then the bloody fool slides his dirty paw up her thigh. The poor girls jumps up in horror and that’s my cue.

  I take a few steps towards her and once I’m close enough, I slide my arm around her waist as if I’ve done it millions of times before. She’s tall and seems a bit fragile in my arm as I pull her in close. I lower my head and she smells nice. When she looks up at me, she seems familiar. I bring my other hand to her cheek and slightly brush the back of my hand over her über white skin. I whisper loud enough for the arsehole that just helped himself to a feel to hear, “Are you ready to go, love? You look lovely tonight.” She’s cute up close, I think. She’s definitely not a prostitute; I smile to myself at my earlier assessment.

  The rude yank that I almost forgot all about gets up and leaves without a word as I disentangle myself from the helpless young woman in my arm. “He’s gone, I’m letting you go, I think it’s safe unless you have more blokes coming your way,” I say. She still hasn’t said a word to me and I hope I haven’t crossed the line. I was just trying to help her out. I don’t need to get myself into a brawl before meeting Emily. Emily! I remember as alarm bells start going off in my mind and I look down at my watch. “Do you usually need to ward off men when you go out? I’m meeting someone later tonight, but let me know if you need my services in the next half an hour.”

  She slowly looks away from me and says, “Yes, I-I-I’m meeting someone, too. Thank you for helping me with those two guys.” I helped her twice? Interesting, I wonder how I helped with the first fella. I reckon that I may need to stop saving girls. This superhero complex I have going hasn’t been working out for me lately.

  I watch her as she starts putting away her belongings into her purse. She really is a pretty girl. If I didn’t just hear her strong New York accent, I would think she was European. I smile as I take in her appearance. I begin walking back to my table and just before I sit down, I turn and ask her, “Out of curiosity, what did you tell the first fella?”

  “I told him you’re my boyfriend and that you and I are back together and that I won’t be able to hang out with him tonight. It’s my fault, I just forgot I made plans with him and I scheduled an important meeting instead.” She’s doesn’t look at me anymore as she finishes the rest of her drink with one swig.

  Why is she here alone anyway? I reckon that girls shouldn’t be in pubs alone; even in swanky hotel pubs. What if I wasn’t here to help her? That creeper could’ve gotten aggressive with her. I watch her delicate body move. I want her to look at me again. Not sure why, but I guess I need someone to talk to other than the demons inside my head. “As your boyfriend, do I at least get to hear what the poor bloke said when you gave him the brush off?” Am I flirting with this poor girl? Nah, I’m just being proper and making conversation.

  She finally looks up. She really is very pretty. Not my type, but pretty. My knob sprouts to life once again. Look away from her and concentrate on how you’re going to convince Emily to leave her husband for you.

  “He asked me if you’d be okay if he joined us in a threesome.” She smiles and winks before turning her back on me to sit down, leaving me speechless. My dick is at full staff as though this pretty bird were talking straight at it. I look down to assess how obvious my bulge is and how long before I can get the fuck out of this pub and go up to see Emily.

  “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham

  I’ve pissed away my whole interrogation prep time and now it’s almost ten fucking PM. My head is total mush, thanks to seeing Brian, slimy hillbilly, and sexy Brit attack. I need to go back up in case Will Knight decides to come see Em early. I should probably go wait for him upstairs.

  As I head toward the elevators, I ask one of the receptionists if they let anyone up to my suite while I was playing Inspector Clouseau at the bar.

  “Hi, I just wanted to see if my friend Jeffery Rossi stopped by to gain access to my suite. I’m staying at the Penthouse,” I ask, although I’m sure Will won’t come up before ten. I wish I asked Em more questions pertaining to his appearance as opposed to his cock.

  The woman behind the counter types and then sweetly answers, “Oh, yes, your friend is waiting at your suite. We’ve sent him up about half an hour ago.”

  My heart rate picks up as a cold chill passes through my body. How could I have stayed down at the bar for so long? Then I think back to the two disasters I got distracted by and roll my eyes at how amateurish I’ve handled this whole fucked-up evening. I run quickly to the elevator to finally go meet Will “The Problem” Knight.

  As I exit the elevator into the lavish foyer of my suite, common sense finally rears its head. This guy Will could be dangerous. I know nothing about him except that he’s trying to avenge his sister’s suicide through the people I love most in this world. When he sees me instead of Em, he won’t be a happy camper. I need to come up with a plan of action, pronto. The truth is, if he hurts me, no one will even know he did it because Jeff’s name is on the record for visiting me. I’ve erased all our earlier text messages… I’m screwed; there is zero evidence that Will and I ever met.

  “Sara! Where have you been?” I’m startled as I look to the left and at the top of the stairs where his voice is coming from. “I’ve been going crazy. Why aren’t you answering your phone?” he barks my way.

  I look at Jeff who’s standing right there, looking at me as if he’s right where he belongs. As if he has the right to question my whereabouts. My heart clenches and bleeds as I look at him, wishing that he did have the right to question me. I don’t want to act strong anymore. We can’t keep doing this! I want him, I need him and yet he’s not mine to want or need. I made decisions that I had no right making, and I’ve been paying the consequences ever since. I close my eyes, drop my head and belt out a wail at how much I want to rewind and be able to redo it all over again.

  He is at my side instantly as I sink to the floor and try to forget everything. How do I stop this…us…him and me? He should be mine, he’s already the reason I open my eyes each day. How can I deny myself the only thing I’ve ever wanted?

  “Baby, come on, don’t do this. I don’t want to see you cry,” he whispers as he lifts me off the ground and walks us up the stairs to my bedroom. “I called Gavin when I couldn’t reach you for hours and my key to your place wouldn’t work. I was worried, Sara, and rightfully so.” He lays me down on the big bed, props a few pillows behind my head, removes my shoes, and kisses the top of my feet before covering my legs with a throw. He walks over to the under-counter beverage fridge and brings me a bottle of water.

  I’ve known this perfect man for fifteen years, and in those fifteen years, nothing between us has changed. He always took care of me, even when he wasn’t supposed to. Even when I wasn’t his problem or his business, he always made sure I knew just what I meant to him. If it weren’t for me, he would probably just go on living a perfectly normal life with his wife, whom he’s known even before we met. I’ve always pretended that he’s the one that ruined my life, but the reality is, I’ve ruined his. I’ve done more damage to him and his family than he ever did to me. Why can’t we let each other go? What is it about us that nothing or no one can stop us from loving one another?

  “Drink, calm down, and talk to me. I still don’t understand for the life of me why you wouldn’t call me, or come to me! Didn’t you know he sold the place and that you’d have to evacuate?” he asks with confusion and anger mixed in his harsh tone. If he only knew it took me almost every shred of willpower to not dial his number. Every day I try to stop being his problem. We made a mistake that has turned into a lifelong syndrome that neither one of us knows how to cure.

  I nod my head. I’m too tired to talk to him or anybody else. This day has drained me and all that’s left are my aching, heavy bones. I close my eyes as he removes his shoes and climbs int
o bed beside me. He pulls me close as I breathe him in like a deprived addict. He doesn’t smell of a particular cologne or aftershave, but his scent is calming. It’s the familiar scent of promise and hope. It’s the scent of home that I’ve always imagined we’d have. I smile as I feel him breathe me in, too. Look at us—two pathetic individuals who can’t seem to get it right.

  “If I don’t touch you at least once a day, my whole day feels like a waste,” he whispers, already kissing down the side of my face. My limp body starts to respond to his soft lips. “I wish you would let me see you every day. It’s not good for us to be apart.” I do see him every day, he just doesn’t know it. He doesn’t know that I can’t start my day without seeing him. I know what suit he chooses, how he styles his hair, I even know which car picks him up. But he gets to have a family while I get to watch, so he doesn’t have the privilege of having it all.

  “Why didn’t you come to our apartment? I’ve been working from there all day hoping you’d turn up. It’s our place and yet you haven’t been there in years.”

  I will never go back to that place. I stiffen as my resolve hardens. He knows what that space means to me. He knows what that place means to us. Everything I’ve ever wished, imagined, and prayed for was ripped away from me there. I’d rather live on the street than go back there. He stops kissing down my neck when he feels my body tense up at the mere mention of our place. I’m not stupid, I know there is no “our.” I push away from him as I turn toward the window.

  “Jeff, when will you let me go?” I ask, knowing that the answer is never.

  “Why would you want me to let you go? You are my life, Sara, our time will come, and then we will never have to be apart again, baby.” I wonder if he means when we die and then our poor lost souls can finally be together like Romeo and Juliet.