I nod my head. “Yeah, that would be me. So, who does that make you? You’re surely not Emily.”
She closes her eyes and falls face first on the bed before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, which I know from experience will only end in more tears. I fold my arms over my chest and wait for this nutty girl to simmer down and tell me how she knows my name and what in the bloody hell makes this situation a rib-tickler. It takes her a full ten minutes to stop laughing and snorting like a farm animal, which, as I predicted, turned into crying. Now she’s at the hiccup stage. I can see her brain working as she laughs and then starts to cry. Something is off with this bird. Did Louis put her up to this? Maybe he’s using his whore to keep me away from Emily. He does like to share women.
I walk over to a small beverage fridge and fish out a bottle of water. I set it on the bedside table and go into the en suite bathroom to fetch her a paper napkin or a wet cloth to help get herself together so that she can illuminate me with her knowledge. I come back as she sits up against the headboard in the middle of the big, stark bed. I hand over the warm cloth and the water bottle. She takes both and just looks at me. I’m a gentleman; therefore, I make the first move.
“Tell me who you are, since you already seem to know who I am,” I say as seriously as I can. She wipes her face and takes a few sips of water before answering.
“I’m Sara, Sara Klein,” she says and then looks at me with amazement, waiting to hear what I want to know next.
Her name resonates in my head like déjà vu, making this feel familiar, which is peculiar since I’ve only seen her last night at the pub and hadn’t gotten her name. “Sara, why are you here? Where is Emily? Was it you who sent me those texts yesterday?” We’re still staring one another down. My heart breaks for this poor girl with her sad-looking eyes trying to read me. She was pleasing yesterday at the pub, but today, I don’t proper fancy her one bit. Never would I think her to be American and my first thought last night at the pub—that she’s a prostitute—starts to make more sense.
She nods and finally replies, “Yes, I sent those texts…with Emily, at first, but she doesn’t know I made arrangements to meet you.” With that, she breaks our stare and looks down at her hands.
When she mentions Emily’s name, my heart literally clenches as a hundred more questions materialize and beg to come out. This bird Sara then covers her bare legs with a blanket, which I think is odd—her trying to fake modesty. I bloody saw her get banged last night, and her tits were hanging out a few minutes ago. Her covering her legs is quite amusing.
“Sara, why is Emily not here?” My voice betrays me and cracks into a plea. Her eyes dart up as she registers how pathetic and hurt I just sounded. I’m being played, I’m just not sure by whom!
“Will, you need to leave Emily alone! Whatever issues you have with Louis and his involvement with your sister, don’t take them out on her!”
As I chew over her word choice, my blood begins to boil. That fucking bastard sent his whore to tell me to stay away from Emily. I look at her with disgust. I don’t plan to dignify her daft outburst with an answer. I don’t take orders from scum or sluts, I turn and walk away. I’m done with this pile of crap. I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear her yelling after me.
“If you hurt them, you will have me to answer to, you hear me, Will?” she yells from the top of the stairs.
I turn around and take two steps at a time to reach her. She’s tall but I’m still a good head taller. I glare down at her and she can try and act as brave as she wants, but I know she’s scared of me. She should be, she doesn’t know what I’m capable of.
“I don’t take empty threats from whores,” I answer as her eyes enlarge and sharpen right before I feel the sting of her hand across my face. I haven’t been hit on the face in a while and it actually feels good…sobering. I wish it were Louis standing here before me so I could finally help him meet his maker. She spits in my face and tries storming away. Oh, we’re not finished yet, sweetheart, I grab her arms and pull her towards me.
“Why don’t you explain to me why one of Louis’ whores would tell me to stay away from Emily? How much is he paying you for this? I can pay you double if you give me a plausible explanation as to what in bloody fucking hell is going on here!”
“Why did you just call me Louis’ whore? How did you even come up with that?” she asks as she stops trying to pull herself away from my grip. She shakes her head from side to side as if what I said to her is highly offensive and muddling.
I let go of her arms and instinctively push her away; she flies back and falls on her bum on the carpeted floor. I immediately feel like a jackarse for treating her callously, even if she is his whore; she’s still a girl, a sad girl. She looks up with surprise at my brutality and I have this unexplainable need to wipe that disappointed look off her face. Don’t look at me like that, Sara, I’m the good guy.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to fall.”
She fumes and rolls her eyes with disgust; she looks away from me and I feel like the biggest arse on God’s green earth. I lower myself to my knees and inch closer to sit next to her on the floor. This girl is my only ticket to Emily, I shouldn’t let my pride lose the plot.
“I don’t know why you think I’m Louis’ whore, but I’ll have you know that Emily Bruel is one of the most important people in my life. I will do whatever it takes to protect her and her beautiful family.” As she says this within a yard of my face, she starts crying again. This bird is an emotional rollercoaster. Tread with caution.
“So why are you banging her husband?” I ask bluntly, and the emotions that pass on Sara’s face are quite priceless. She wants to laugh and yet looks cross simultaneously, and I see her battling and talking herself off that ledge.
“William fucking Knight, if you refer to my relationship with my best friend’s husband as sexual one more time, I swear I will claw your pretty little blue eyes out and shove them up your stupid British ass. Is that understood?”
I smile at her descriptive dismemberment warning. She’s a cheeky American, my favorite kind.
“Sara, I came up last night per your request! I saw you and Louis boning in this bed. I was hiding in the closet when he left. I know you must be lying to your best friend and I’m not here to tell you what to do, I just want to talk to Emily. I don’t know what kind of magic Louis keeps weaving to lure all of you women to him, but I just need to talk to Emily and she needs to listen. She owes me that much.”
Sara smirks to herself before pinning me with her beautiful, sad gaze. “Yes, I was having sex with someone last night, but it wasn’t my best friend’s husband, you idiot. Louis is more of a brother to me than someone I’d ever want to sleep with; his magic only works on Emily.”
I was here, I saw with my own eyes the man she had in bed; he was tall and broad with black hair. It had to be Louis, I’m certain of it. “Who were you with, then? I came up here, per your instructions, and it was quiet. I sat down to wait for Emily and I dozed off. I woke up and came up here to check and make sure she wasn’t in bed waiting for me. I saw you in bed with him! Was it some kind of setup? Was I supposed to see you two in bed together and think it was Emily and Louis and just leave?” My head is a mess and nothing makes sense anymore.
“You need to stop talking. It wasn’t Louis Bruel in bed with me last night, it was Jeffery Rossi,” she says and closes her beautiful eyes. The way she just uttered his name reminds me of the way I say Emily’s name. It’s an unconscious submission and I recognize it immediately. I’m silent, patiently waiting because I know she has more to say. “I came up last night to meet you and talk to you. Emily told me you were in New York waiting to speak to her. She isn’t legally permitted to have any contact with you, so we decided that it would be best if I spoke to you instead. I came upstairs and Jeff was here waiting for me and I tend to just forget the world when he’s around.” Her lip is trembling and I reckon more tears are coming.
“Why did you tell
me to use his name to gain access to this suite? Did you not know he would be coming to see you?”
She shakes her head. “I gave the hotel staff and you his name so Emily, or more importantly Louis, wouldn’t know I had you up here. I just wanted to talk to you and explain that Emily doesn’t want any problems for her family. I’m hoping to convince you to leave her alone. She wanted to thank you for bringing her back home to her family safely and she just wants some answers.” She says all this very calmly and professionally. She sounds like an attorney but looks like a broken ballerina.
“Who is this Jeffery fella to you?” I ask, somehow knowing that my simple question doesn’t have a simple answer.
“He’s everything and nothing,” she replies and it takes all of my restraint to not pull her in and try to soothe her. She’s a nobody, don’t you bloody touch her, I keep repeating to myself. She’s trying to be strong. I can see the moment that she hears the words she just uttered out loud sink in. Jeff and Louis must be best mates. Louis fancies being surrounded by bastards that enjoy hurting women.
I need to change the subject and have this fragile girl talk to me about my Emily. If they’re best mates, maybe I can convince her to arrange a meeting. I have things that must be said that Emily must know. “Sara, tell me what I must do to see Emily. I would never hurt her or her children. I just want her to be safe and aware as to whom she married. There are things she ought to know about him. I have a book that Emily should see for herself.”
“I don’t think I can help you with seeing her, but I can listen and pass along your information to her.”
I don’t like the sound of that. I have no guarantee that what I tell Sara will ever make it to Emily’s ears. And besides, I need to see her again. I can’t carry on with this unfinished business hanging over my heart.
“Sara, I have information about Louis that I can’t share with you for legal reasons. I’m willing to lose everything as long as I get to tell Emily the truth about her lying, cheating husband.”
Sara does not like what I’m saying. “Listen to me. Louis is not cheating on Emily! She ran away to St. Lucia because she thought he was cheating on her but he wasn’t! He was trying to save his company from bankruptcy and had just closed an important deal with a woman from Russia. Louis was not sleeping with that woman; Emily misunderstood. When she ran away, he was looking for her all night around New York City like a deranged lunatic. He had a heart attack and almost died looking for her. You keep saying things about him that make me very uncomfortable. You don’t know what they have. That man loves her and his kids more than life. If someone loved me one percent as much as Louis loves my best friend, I would be the luckiest girl in the world. Don’t you dare say anything bad about Louis! He is a great son, a loyal friend, a loving father, and the best husband any woman could ask for. I don’t know what happened with him and your sister, but what he and Emily have is bulletproof.”
Her words are making me bleed inside and I won’t hear any more of her rubbish. He is not a good husband—he’s a fake, a liar, and a cheat. If Sara read my sister’s book, she wouldn’t have such a high opinion of Louis fucking Bruel.
“Do you want to tell me what evidence you have confirming that Louis committed the heinous misconducts you speak of? I think your opinion of him is based on hearsay. You accused him of sleeping with me a few moments ago while the truth of the matter is he wasn’t even here. Don’t you think he deserves a fair trial before you go accusing him without any proof of acts he’s never been a part of?”
This girl is most definitely a solicitor, and she may look fragile and weak, but I’m starting to think that she’s as strong as they come.
“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Knight, how about you go make us some coffee while I go shower and change. You and I can sit down and talk like two adults. I promise to listen to everything you think you know about Mr. Bruel, and if I feel your information has merit, I will immediately convey your concerns to Mrs. Bruel.”
Her stoic tone and her formal mention of Emily and Louis’ names are meant to draw the line in the sand between us, and yet I feel like we’re about to cross lines I didn’t even know existed. I smile and nod. I know I don’t have any choice; if there’s any chance of seeing and getting through to Emily I need this bird to help me. I get up and quickly offer Sara my hand. She accepts it easily and waits for me to properly answer her back and accept her proposal. “How do you take your coffee, Sara?”
She smiles, which makes me smile. She’s such a conundrum; she appears fragile, almost breakable, but I have this hunch she’s tougher than I am. I can’t explain how I know, but I just know it in my gut.
“I take my coffee in the form of tea with milk and two sugars, please,” she says while walking towards her room.
I yell back after her, “Are you sure you’re American? I don’t know any tea-with-milk-drinking American girls under the age of one hundred.”
She pops her head out while smiling and says, “Well, you do now, Liam.”
Liam! How did she know to call me Liam?
“Things Can Only Get Better” by Howard Jones
The hot shower helps me wash Jeffery from my mind and body. I have the urge to yell and cry but I’m calm, I’m used to this. After all, I wake up every morning with only his old grey T-shirt around my body instead of his arms. But today feels worse because I’m not there to see them all leave. I feel physical pain that is slowly turning into a massive, silent panic attack. Starting a day without seeing him off is almost as hard as knowing that my time with him is finally up. A thought crosses my mind: If people ever knew the truth, would they hate me? At least he’ll know the truth even if no one else does. Today was supposed to be about me coming up with a plan to start fresh and escape this pathetic existence I’ve staged and orchestrated for myself. I shouldn’t have made love to him last night, but in a selfish way, I’m glad I got to be with him one last time. I may pretend, but inside, I know that there is no us—never was and never will be. I’ve been as strong as I could be for as long as I possibly could without going crazy. I’ve waited, prayed, believed, lied to the world and myself, and ultimately…I lost. The tears run down my face but the water washes everything away…even him, and hopefully, one day, the pain.
I know—William fucking Knight is downstairs and I’ll have to figure out a way to deal with him without Emily or Louis knowing I did this. This will be my gift to her. After being the shittiest friend any girl could ever have, I owe her this. She may never find out that I took care of Will “The Problem” Knight for her and Louis, but I will know and that’s enough.
The shock hasn’t worn off yet as I think that this stranger was in my room last night watching Jeff and I make love. The thought of him spying on us causes my body to respond in a very unprofessional way. I need to be Sara Klein, attorney at law, not Sara Klein, slut extraordinaire. How could that stupid man think I was fucking my best friend’s husband? I mean, yes, I’m fucking somebody’s husband, but that’s a different story. What Jeff and I share is not some transient secret office affair. Ours is a heartbreaking love story that spans half my life.
I dress casually in comfy shorts and a soft sweatshirt, fighting the urge to wear Jeff’s old T-shirt under my loose top. That old grey T-shirt is one of my most prized earthly possessions and I handle it with tender loving care. I head downstairs to try and make the British fool understand that he needs to go back home to Mother England and stop dreaming about breaking up my best friend’s marriage. I saw the look in his eyes when he said her name. The only other man who has the right to have that look in his eyes is her husband, and he does!
My new guest is in the kitchen. He’s removed his light jacket and stands in a wrinkled white T-shirt. The boy obviously lives in the gym; his biceps are on display as he expertly pours our tea. I look away from his arms and catch him eyeballing and assessing me as well. He knows I’m his only meal ticket to Em and I’m sure he’s about to try and milk me. I need to use his weakness for th
at woman and extricate every shred of information needed to help send him packing.
I give him a small smile as I pick a seat at the round kitchen table. He walks over and places my hot cup of tea in front of me, and smiles back. “Tea. Should I have poured the milk prior to your tea?” he asks.
“No, I like adding it after and watching the milk disperse and hide the tea,” I say, not sure why I’m offering him any explanations about my tea preferences. He nods and smiles and he’s sorta handsome in that carefree, Australian surfer kind of way. When I was a teen, he would have been exactly what I’d lust over. His eye color looks Photoshopped and those disheveled blond locks would have made him the perfect candidate in my childish fantasies. I wonder how far he and Em really got in St. Lucia. The way she described his dick and blushed really was a Kodak moment.
As I add the milk and take my first sip of tea, I can’t help but close my eyes and hold back a sigh, trying to savor the comforting flavor. If this were my last cup of tea on earth, I’d be okay with that—it’s that good. I don’t think anybody, not even my mom, has ever made me a cup of tea. Jeffery probably makes Jacqueline tea all the time.
“Nice shower?” he asks me as I return back from my mini tea-induced orgasm to the here and now.
“The best shower of my life,” I answer sarcastically, thinking that telling him I just washed the love of my life’s scent off my body forever probably wouldn’t be wise.
“Really? That good? Well, I may have to give it a go myself,” he says with a smile and a wink. I want to hate him, but I don’t think I can. I kinda see how Emily could’ve given into him and his British charm, he is slightly sexy. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, just confused and very misinformed. He and Emily are very similar and, in an interesting way, remind me of one another. They both seem to believe everything at face value. How do people not know that things are not always as they seem? Even if we think our loved ones are telling us the truth, sometimes they’re not. I’m not sure what he thinks he knows about Louis, but I’ve known Louis Bruel for almost twelve years and his only fault is loving my best friend too much. “I made tea and ordered us some breakfast, now why don’t you tell me how you knew to call me Liam?”
Lies In Rewind Page 9
