Choke on Your Lies

by Anthony Neil Smith

  What would I say?

  Then her eyes grew wide and she turned her head as if talking to someone else. Sure enough, another pair of eyes appeared, blinked, dropped out of sight.

  Okay, wait. I had a better idea of what this was. Even closer, there was harsh whispers and rustling. And then I was there, leaning into the van in time to see the other teen, a boy, zip up. No time to button, though. The girl had her hand up her back, trying to refasten her bra. So what they’d really been looking for was their youth leaders. Maybe it was a coordinated effort, the group covering for them so they could have some make out time, which of course would give them a story to tell the separate girls and boys rooms later.

  Instead, they saw me and a well-dressed butler carrying a passed-out woman to the back of an unmarked, tinted SUV.

  I gave them a big grin. The boy was hiking his shoulders, scrunching his neck, trying to hide the hickey the girl had given him. Both were scared out of their minds. If their religion hadn’t been that important to their lives before—just went to church because their parents did—it sure as hell was now.

  “So,” I said. “You guys having a good time?”

  Nothing. Not a peep.

  “I mean, it looks like you were left behind. The rest of your group went inside already.”

  “Mister…” It was the girl. All in all, I’d say she was fourteen. It was kind of a good thing they saw us, then. Stopped her from doing something she’d regret once word got around school. “Our youth leader will wonder where we are.”

  “Sure, as soon as everyone’s checked in. Maybe you guys should button up and get on in there.”

  They looked at each other. She was hoping the boy would be tough, I could tell. Hoping he would say something. Anything. But he was navelgazing, embarrassed. Not how he expected his first blowjob to go.

  I backed away from the van, hands in pockets, as casual as the winter is long. “Let’s put it this way—you two teens from Eau Clare Lutheran Church were having a lot of fun out here. And my friends and I were having a lot of fun, too. So much fun, someone passed out. A couple of hours, she’ll be fine. You get it?”

  They both nodded. Boy had a scowl on, but it was pretty sad.

  I held out my hand. “Cell phones?”

  “What?” Maybe they would fight me on this,

  “Let me see your cell phones.”

  I didn’t think they were going to do it. If it had been me caught like that by a stranger, I sure as hell wouldn’t have. But eventually the girl pulled her phone out of her pocket and gave it to me. It indeed had a camera on it. I flipped it open, hit the camera button, and scrolled through pics. Close-ups of girls faces, tongues out, pouty lips. Goofing around. Then one or two in the van on the way over. Then a few of this guy. Then one of this guy with his pants down. But none of me or Jennings or Alice. I tossed it back. Looked at the guy. I gave him some Hand it over with my fingers.

  “Come on, douche. You don’t scare me.”

  I pointed towards the hotel. “Shall we all go talk to your chaperones together? No?”

  “Man…” He passed over a cheaper model, no camera on it. So far so good.

  I thought about keeping it. A little insurance. But even the cheapest phones had GPS these days. I gave it back. “All right. Have a good time at your conference. Remember to stick with your group.”

  And I was gone.

  As soon as I was inside the hotel room with the door slid shut and the curtains back in place, I crumbled like a cookie. Didn’t even make it to the bed. Just sprawled on the floor and cried my fucking eyes out.

  SEVENTEEN

  I arrived at Octavia’s early, still feeling overheated and clammy, a hellish mix that didn’t make any physical sense. My clothes were sticky. My hair felt heavy, loaded. Even a scalding shower in the hotel room didn’t help. Even turning the air on high. I worried nothing would ever feel right again.

  Jennings opened the door and let me in, led me to the sun room as if we’d not committed a federal crime together. He’d already changed into a mod skinny suit, looking too hip for the job. Not a word or a wink. Back in our old roles—manservant and visitor.

  Octavia was, well, incredible. She’d had her hair fixed, a lovely Veronica Lake cascade over one eye and down her shoulder. Lips glossed and pouty. Mascara. A really nice black dinner dress that did more for her than I would’ve expected. Yes, it sent my heart aflutter, a teensy bit.

  She knew it, too. Clasped her hands together in front of her like Jackie O. “Wanna fuck?”

  I snapped out of it, blinked blinked blinked. “Geez, can‘t you just…you look nice, that’s all.”

  “Let me get this right.” She turned away from me. We both stood facing the early evening light breaking through the trees, mirroring off the surface of the lake. “She doesn’t do this according to plan, but you plow her anyway? Are you really that hard up? I’m starting to see things Frances’s way.”

  I licked my lips. Salty. “I didn’t know what to do. It happened so fast.”

  “Spoken like a knocked-up prom queen.”

  “She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

  She spun and showed me a face I was hoping would turn me to stone. Anything to not have to deal with her right now. I deflated. I stepped over to a chair and sat.

  I said, “Oh god, what am I going to do? We never should’ve—”

  “Shut up.”

  Fine with me. I’d had enough of all this and wondered if prison would be so bad after all. Surely they would see that I wasn’t some roid raging career criminal. Minimal security. I would finally have something interesting to write about.

  Another few minutes of Octavia standing with her back to me, and I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. I got a little excited. Any man would.”

  She sighed. Finally turned and started back towards me. She stood at my knees and I couldn’t face her.

  “Mick.”

  I sank a little further.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to her, and she won’t do a thing. No charges, no threats, no blackmail. And I’m sure she’ll be looking for a job starting tomorrow. Maybe I can point her in the right direction.”

  Typically I would shake my head, protest, say I’d find my own way to deal with my mess. But not this. I knew she could work a miracle. I knew Alice would be putty in her hands. And the wonder of it was that I didn’t feel as ashamed as I thought I would.

  I raised my chin. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like to freshen up before dinner?”

  I thought that was a good idea.

  As I was leaving, Jennings was escorting a still dazed but very aware Alice into the office. She lunged at me as I passed, but nearly fell over woozy. Jennings held her upright.

  I stood in the hall outside the room, trying to keep myself as quiet as possible. A few seconds later, Alice lit into, “This is ridiculous. You realize your life is over, right? You’ll have the police out here so fast as soon as Carl knows I’m missing.”

  Jennings stepped out, saw me and blinked. Stood still a moment. Then shrugged and walked into the back of the house.

  Octavia said, “I’ve been threatened before. I’m still here.”

  “Not by me.”

  “Alice, right? I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve heard you’re a real whore, too. My friend Mick speaks highly of your seductive powers.”

  An incredulous bellow. “I never. How dare you! You, you, fucking whale, how dare you.”

  “I take it you’re not Minnesotan.”

  “Huh?”

  “Hot-headed. Full of piss. I like you.”

  I closed my eyes, shook my head. The woman was yelling about kidnapping and rape, and Octavia was flirting with her?

  Alice’s low sarcastic laugh pulsed my blood into the wrong places again. “You like me? So you and Mick drug me? Rape me?”

  “Oh, get off it. You know it wasn’t rape. You jumped on that cock like it was a free cigarette. And you loved it. If he�
�d actually gotten it right, you would’ve been asleep before you’d even kicked your shoes off. But he didn‘t think to ask if you liked wine or not.” Louder. “Isn’t that right, Mick?”

  I cringed. Didn’t answer. Just tried to sneak away without making noise, but it was hard to do in a house of old hardwood floors.

  “Mick? Is Mick out there? Mick? You son of a bitch!”

  I headed upstairs with Alice yelling and Octavia yelling right back until their voices sounded like distant coyote calls.

  *

  By the time I had run my clothes through the dryer for a few minutes and toweled off the sweat, it was nearly time for our dinner guests to arrive. I put my clothes back on, warm, and began sweating even more, so I knelt by an air vent and shook my shirt as the airstream whooshed over my chest and face. Octavia’s reassurance helped peel the image of an accusing Alice from my head. Eventually the noise of their shouting subsided and I wondered briefly if one had killed the other. But I wasn’t man enough to go downstairs and check.

  Now I could focus on seeing Frannie again. She’d be with the Provost, of course, and probably slightly uncomfortable, but it would all be worth it as we revealed what we knew about the orgies, the tapes, the blackmail, and the phony quitclaim deed.

  So why was I still nervous? Still sweating? Jesus, it couldn’t be…well, maybe there’s a small part of me that expected that through this…forget it.

  No, I’ll say it: That this could win her back. Ridiculous. And yet, I could visualize the whole scene—after the Provost, faced with his shortcomings, gets up and storms out, showing how weak-willed he is, Frannie is left broken, confused, and apologetic. A new woman. A chance to start over. I hold out my hand. She hesitates at first, but then reaches for it, grasps it in such a way that tells me she’s made up her mind. And we got home, hand in hand, quiet but determined.

  There was a knock at the door. I turned to find Jennings staring down at me.He said, “You’d better get in there.”

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t get up immediately. We just stayed that way for a few moments, frozen like mannequins. He expected me to come at her beck and call? Not likely.

  He finally left, mumbling about what might happen if I was the one holding up dinner. I closed my eyes and allowed the air to balloon my shirt. I felt sick.

  But there was no way to turn back gracefully now. All because I was angry enough to accept help from one of the most awful people I’d ever met.

  *

  They were in the study, waiting for Octavia. Provost Carl and Frannie, neither dressed as formally as our host would’ve preferred, I supposed. Neither was I. Stephanie was there, too. She hugged herself and ignored my ex-wife, looking up when I walked into the room, her eyes a bit wide. Also there was Pamela, imposing in a melon-colored pantsuit. She stood in the middle of the room with a wine glass full of something dark, dark red. Hot in a “punish me, ma’am” sort of way, but it definitely kept everyone at arm’s length.

  Frannie sighed, low and rumbly, then said, “Jesus Christ.” She wanted me to hear.

  I didn’t shake hands. Didn’t greet anyone. Seemed no one else had either. All of us standing around, unwilling to ask, “What in the hell is this all about?” like they do on a bad TV mystery show. Instead, we all hoped someone else would say it first.

  Frannie covered her mouth with her hand and mumbled something to Carl, who said through his teeth, “I can’t hear you.” She tried again. He said, “Not now. It’s fine.”

  Jennings entered the room with another man. I hadn’t seen him before. Looked in great shape, a tight polo shirt over his chest, tucked into his khakis. Maybe in his early fifties. Hair mostly gone, what was left kept very short. Jennings asked him if he’d like a drink while waiting.

  Whoever he was, he made Carl nervous. Frannie, too. They both tittered and hissed at each other, walked deeper into the room, farther from the rest of us.

  The man looked like we were wasting his precious time, said no to a drink, then noticed Carl and Frances. He said, “Hey, actually, okay. Bourbon?”

  “Neat?”

  “No, on the rocks. Thanks.”

  Jennings went off to make the drink. The guy shoved his hands in his pockets, watched me watching him. “Can I help you?”

  Then I knew. Don Moose, the sex club’s high-tech guy. The one I had sent Pamela after. I didn’t expect he even existed, or would actually show up. I said, “No, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  I moved in Stephanie’s direction, motioned to the seats in front of the desk, and we both sat down.

  I asked her, “How are you doing?”

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I had no idea it was going to be…you know.”

  “Carl jumped me outside your house. After that, well. I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay. It’s not.”

  “But are you sure this is the right way? Isn’t it risky?”

  I reached over, squeezed her hand. “Who’s got more to lose?”

  Then Jennings spoke. “Excuse me, but if you could all follow me into the dining room, Miss VanderPlaats is waiting for you.”

  I winked at Stephanie as we stood. “Here we go.”

  We found ourselves at the entryway at exactly the same moment as Frannie and The Provost, us nodding curtly at each other. Frannie smiled at Stephanie, who was in no mood to smile back and apparently not much for faking it. I liked her even more for that. Fran drifted closer to me, arms folded across her chest.

  “What exactly is all this about?”

  I shrugged. “Sure she’ll tell us.”

  “I refuse to walk into some sort of ambush. It’s not fair, and you won’t win.”

  I stepped around her, back to Stephanie’s side. “Fine. Leave. Who gives a shit, Frances?”

  She grabbed my arm. I stopped, and so did Stephanie and the Provost. I turned to Stephanie. “Go on, save me a seat.”

  She continued, along with the Provost, both looking a little startled by the Ralph Steadman prints on the wall. Like a real life house of horrors—crazed faces and eyeballs and skulls and scribbled lines and and and, well, they weren’t used to it.

  Frannie said, “You fucking her now?”

  “Really? You’re going there?”

  “Don’t even—”

  “The answer is no, not that you care. You’re the one who slept with her husband.”

  She curled her lip. “Grow up.”

  “Seems to me I’m the adult. Kids take whatever they want, no consequences, and refuse responsibility. Then they want more and more, like, I don’t know, say, the house?”

  “Nice, impressive. You been practicing that little speech?”

  I thumbed over my shoulder and took a step back, almost giddy with power. “Hey, I don’t want to be rude to our host, so, if you’re just trying to insult me—”

  “Okay, wait, I’m sorry. Listen, Mick…” Trembling hands. She rubbed her palms together, then laid one on my chest. Whispered. “I’m sure we can work this out another way. There’s no need for everyone to know our business.”

  So many comebacks to that line. So, so many. But which one would I choose? Which one would sting the most?

  I heard some giggles and “Oh my God, you’re kidding me” from the dining room, so they must’ve just then saw the Boteros.

  Back to Frances, who was genuinely scared. I didn’t know why, since she seemed to come out of the deal in the best shape. Or had her double-cross blackmail plan failed her? Without me, without the house, how could she continue to pull it off? That would make the Provost her safety net. I was watching as she only just realized.

  I said, “I didn’t want it like this. Maybe we can reign it in, but you’ll need to do your part, too.”

  “I’m okay with that. Please, we can even use your lawyer. We can work this out fairly.”

  It wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind. “It doesn’t even have to come to that. I’ve heard about some counselors. Not the usual type. I mean real
ly good, honest, in-your-face counselors.”

  She closed her eyes. “No, Mick, no, I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to give you hope just now. We have to end it. We both see it’s the only way. Come on, we’ve talked about it over and over—”

  Then a shout from the dining room. The Provost. “No fucking way!”

  Well, we had to go see. Stopped mid-sentence and took off down the hall and into the room where we found everyone watching Carl nearly growling at Octavia, finger up and stabbing the air in front of him.

  Then I saw why. So did Frannie. She let out a quick shocked breath.

  Alice was standing next to Octavia, looking much more peaceful than at our last encounter, but also ready for a naughty cocktail party in a little black dress I’m sure Octavia kept around just in case petite drugged women guests needed to play dress up.

  Carl said, “We’re done. We’re leaving and you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Whatever‘s going on, we’ll find a way to make sure you pay for this. All of you”

  From behind Octavia, Pamela said, “I know your lawyer. We used to go out.”

  Carl swung left and right, finger still stabbing. His face was glowing like it was on fire. I’d never seen him break his calm and collected mask before. When he found me in the room, he marched right up to my face. “You really thought you could make me look like an asshole? Is that it?”

  I caught a movement from the right, and then Jennings was beside me, ready to step in if Carl got out of hand. I kind of hoped he would, just to see how it would go down.

  “You’re done, too, mister. We’ll find a way, but you are done with me, the school, and Fran.”

  Pamela shouted back, “Excuse me? Are you threatening my client?”

  He ignored her and turned to Fran. “We’re leaving now. We’re leaving, right?”

  She said, “Calm down.”

  “But we are leaving.”

  “We will, but obviously we’ve been invited for dinner. Let’s find out what they have to say, first.”

  “Oh, I know what they have to say—”

  “Good, good.” It was Octavia, her volume matching Carl’s, but with much more authority. “Then let’s either skip right to it before you ruin the entrée, too, or can we sit down and enjoy the meal? Let’s not waste all of the hard work and fresh ingredients my chef has put into this, okay?”