Lies

by Aleatha Romig

  “He sang like a fucking bird, spilling his guts, apologizing. Explained that they’ve done it before, and it’s more fun to ask the second time when the bitches don’t remember you already fucked them.”

  My throat tightened.

  “When Ms. McCrie left her drink,” Reid went on, “McBride gave Amanda the vial, told her he’d pay her for the three-way, and she’d get the night off, could make double if she fucked someone else. All she had to do was slip the GHB to the glass. They were going to take it from there.”

  With each of Reid’s sentences, words, sounds, my blood pressure built. I was a fucking gasket about to blow. “He swears?” My words were separate and distinct. “Tell me that he’s still alive.”

  “Yeah, you could call it that. Hanson has him. Hanson wants no part of this. When McBride went rogue, killing Amanda, Hanson called Patrick, informing him what happened, totally unsure why McBride would kill the little bartender. He didn’t know about Ms. McCrie. We’ve tried to keep those details quiet. Hanson told Patrick he assumed it was a drug-related; she stole his stash or pissed him off by not swallowing. He fucking didn’t know it involved Ms. McCrie.

  “McBride,” Reid said, going on, “didn’t realize the mistake he and his girlfriend made until you came to get her. And then he just about shit himself. Well,” Reid said with a scoff, “by now he has. Anyway, last night he threatened Amanda. During the night, he must have gotten scared that she’d talk, so he took care of her.”

  I remembered now. There was this kid looking at me with wide eyes who quickly turned away. I didn’t recognize him, hadn’t given it much thought, not with Annabelle and Araneae. “Fucker made a deadly mistake.”

  “We have him and Leslie.”

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  “His bitch, the one that picked Ms. McCrie for their three-way.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Sparrow, we can take care of this. Keep your hands clean.”

  The fist of my free hand balled and unballed. “No fucking way. I made a goddamned statement to the McFadden outfit, I never thought I’d need to make one to the Sparrow too. Once I’m done, every fucking person from the top to the bottom will hear it loud and clear. Call the crew leaders together, Hanson included. We’re going down to the lake in East Garfield Park.”

  My nostrils flared as I imagined the scene. “These two like to fuck unwilling women? We’ll give them a fitting end, one that will spread through the ranks faster than shit from the damn geese moves through that shithole lake. No one fucks with Araneae, and no one under my name has a reputation for rape. After tonight, the capos will clean up their fucking crews or next time, it will be one of them.”

  Araneae

  As I moved, the aches throughout my body brought me back to consciousness. There was the now strangely familiar reminder that Sterling and I’d been together. Memories of me pleading for more of what only he could give brought warmth to my cheeks as well as tightening in my nipples. Those were the aches I wanted. The way that even behind my closed eyes, my temples throbbed and muscles throughout my body felt sore, similar to the aftereffects of recovering from an illness, reminded me of my new reality: someone had tried to poison me. Scratch that. Someone had poisoned me. My hand rubbed over my upper right arm.

  I contemplated what was real and what was covered in lies.

  Sterling had caught me before I hit the floor. It made sense. It fit the scenario I’d been given. Why then did I believe it wasn’t the entire story?

  Somehow, unimaginably, I had become a woman who’d been sucked into a world she didn’t understand. Then again, in Sterling’s soft bed within this apartment, I felt safe.

  Was I? Or was I acting like the people he’d mentioned, those who craved security so much that they didn’t see the lies and deception staring them in the face?

  The thoughts twisted my stomach, taking me down a rabbit hole; like Alice, I was in a strange land, unsure of whom I could trust.

  The incredible softness of the sheets against my skin gave me the sensation of floating. I liked that better than falling. Maybe it wasn’t a rabbit hole but a cloud. I just couldn’t see beyond the fog. Forcing the uneasiness from my mind, I concentrated on the softness around me.

  I should talk to Louisa about the idea of expanding Sinful Threads into bedding. After all, people spent more time in their bed than in a dress.

  Louisa.

  I needed my phone.

  My eyes sprang open and closed again just as quickly to the bright sunshine still filling Sterling’s bedroom. No, wait. He said it was ours. I shook my head.

  “Saying it doesn’t make it true.” I’d said that to him just this afternoon, yet somehow, I was beginning to doubt that statement. It seemed as though Sterling Sparrow had that ability—to speak and make it so. As if he could declare the sky green and the grass blue and that would be what the world saw.

  As my eyes adjusted, I assessed my surroundings more closely than I had when Sterling brought me here. First and foremost, I was alone. I’d known that before my eyes opened. Sterling Sparrow had a palpable energy that was verifiable even without visual confirmation. Though the pillow beside me held the indentation—I leaned down and inhaled—and the fresh, spicy scent proving that he’d been here, the coolness told me that his departure wasn’t recent.

  Throwing back the covers, I made up my mind that I was going to get more answers.

  The room wavered, not the spinning that occurred in the kitchen yet enough to twist my stomach and still my progress. I hesitated on the edge of the tall bed, my feet resting upon a wooden beam that was like a step. I’d noticed it when Sterling helped me into the bed, but now I was giving it more thought.

  Who had a bed that required a step? And what the hell did he mean about my ass?

  No. Oh hell no.

  A breath in. A breath out.

  The queasiness lessened.

  Looking to the bedside stand, I searched for a clock. There was one on the other side of the bed—Sterling’s side. I’d only once before been involved in a long-term relationship. It probably shouldn’t have happened, and while for me it was long-term, in reality it was only a little under a year.

  He’d convinced me to move in with him. Doing so was our first mistake, and even then, we didn’t make the move until nearly four months into the dating. This was insanity that I was living with Sterling after less than two weeks.

  The clock read 5:03 PM.

  Turning back to my bedside stand, I saw a piece of paper beside a cell phone. It wasn’t mine, but it was there.

  Curiosity won. I picked up the phone and swiped the screen. A code screen came up.

  Really, Sterling? You’re going to leave me a phone that I can’t use?

  Asshole.

  I smirked to myself.

  He really did have that talent, and no, it wasn’t a virtue.

  Placing the phone back down, I picked up the paper—it was a note.

  * * *

  Sunshine,

  I hated to leave you, but there are things that can’t be avoided. First, so you aren’t surprised, the outside door to our room is locked.

  * * *

  What? My eyes darted to the set of double doors as my pulse surged, forcing blood through my veins.

  * * *

  Before you panic, keep reading.

  * * *

  Too late...was this a good time to call him an asshole?

  * * *

  It’s locked from the inside. You control the key.

  * * *

  My smile tugged at my lips. Okay, Mr. Sparrow, I may jump to conclusions when it comes to you. I continued reading.

  * * *

  I meant what I said about others seeing your pussy, and lying there all curled up, you were too peaceful and beautiful to disturb and do anything but pull the blankets up to cover your sexy body.

  * * *

  You may have noticed the phone by this note. (Not sure yet of your observation skills.) It has six numbers p
rogrammed into it and your outgoing number is blocked on two.

  * * *

  Great. What’s the damn code?

  * * *

  Once you’re awake and clothed, call Lorna. She’s expecting your call. Dr. Dixon and I agreed that another staircase journey should wait for tomorrow but food cannot.

  * * *

  Why wasn’t I consulted on this treatment plan?

  * * *

  There is a pitcher of water on the armoire and more in a refrigerator hidden behind one of the doors. Look around. Lorna will bring you food. The other phone numbers are for me, Patrick, Reid (yes, he is real), Louisa (her private cell), and Winifred (her private cell.) Don’t forget you already texted them once today.

  * * *

  I promised you contact with Sinful Threads and your friends. I keep my word.

  * * *

  This phone is sufficient for communication. For today and tonight, don’t fight me—we can save that for when you have more strength.

  * * *

  I trust you’ll remember the rules we discussed. Don’t mention anything private or about me to Louisa or Winifred. To them and Sinful Threads, you remain Kennedy Hawkins.

  * * *

  I will be back as soon as possible. Make yourself at home—because it is—in our room. Did your own deception help you sleep?

  * * *

  Until I return,

  * * *

  Sterling

  * * *

  My own deception?

  “By all means, sunshine, if that description will help you sleep...”

  Shaking my head, I turned the paper over.

  Nothing.

  I stood and spoke to no one, “Asshole, just because you give me the greatest sex of my life, doesn’t mean you can control everything. How the fuck am I supposed to call without a damn code?”

  Slowly, I spun, taking in the room. Could he hear me? Were there cameras?

  I couldn’t see any, but that didn’t matter.

  Clothed?

  How the hell am I supposed to do that, I wondered, as I walked naked around the room, approaching the tall windows. The view was simply spectacular in an urban fashion. I missed the mountains and wilderness of Colorado, yet there was beauty in a city like Chicago.

  Getting even closer, I peered downward. I wasn’t certain of how high we were, but by the sight of tiny cars on narrow strips of street, we were about as high as you can get. The more my vision narrowed on the workings of the city below me, the more I pondered about the illusion Sterling mentioned.

  I wanted to see the beauty.

  Walking around without clothing was something that I was never comfortable doing, yet in this new life, everything seemed different. Maybe it was Sterling and the way that even though he could be infuriating, he was also adoring.

  Never before had anyone made me feel as at ease in my own body.

  Opening a door that I knew was not to the hallway, I first found an attached workout room. The discovery made me giggle. Sterling Sparrow did work out. There was a treadmill and free weights, an elliptical machine, and another contraption with weights and cords. High on one wall were three TV screens.

  Going back to the bedroom, I found the pitcher of water. Opening the cabinet doors beneath, I also discovered the refrigerator as well as a liquor reserve and a stash of books. I picked up one. These books weren’t for show. Their spines were creased and pages furrowed. Lifting one to my nose, I inhaled. There was something about the scent of a real book that made me smile. These had that aroma, but also a faint spicy aroma. These were Sterling’s books. He’d held them and read them. The man who took responsibility for the city below liked fictional classics.

  I would have taken him for a mystery/crime suspense reader or perhaps nonfiction. Then again, maybe that was what he lived—mystery and crime. Perhaps the fabricated tales from the likes of Charles Dickens, Herman Melville, and George Orwell provided him with an escape from the darkness that surrounded him.

  Closing the cabinet, I realized I’d just discovered another tile in the mosaic that was Sterling Sparrow.

  Near the window was a sitting area with a long chaise and other furniture including overstuffed chairs. There was also a small table with two chairs, perfect for eating dinner alone when he wasn’t up for the conversation of his housemates.

  It was an assumption on my part, but it seemed to fit.

  “Okay, Mr. Sparrow, how am I supposed to be dressed when your room contains no dressers or clothes?” The question was out of my mouth when I opened another door to a giant bathroom. The tile was dark and masculine, yet with the large window above the sunken garden tub, it gave it a light and airy feel. I stepped closer to the tub. Sunken into the floor with only a small lip to catch water, it was more like a small pool than a tub. I’d never seen one like it before.

  Standing still, I inhaled. The entire room was saturated with the aroma of Sterling: his choice of bodywash and cologne, not overpowering but reassuring. The shower was bigger than the one at the cabin, with a panel of controls that would give the helicopter a run for its money. The vanity was long with raised colored-glass bowls for sinks and an array of lighting options for the mirror.

  After taking care of business and washing my hands, I opened the drawers and cabinets.

  Within the cabinet containing both the cosmetics that I’d packed and what could basically be considered a department store makeup counter’s worth of new cosmetics—everything from creams and lotions to eye shadows and mascara—I found another note.

  * * *

  The code to open your phone is the same as the one to open the safe in your Chicago hotel room.

  * * *

  I know everything about you because...

  * * *

  I’m ready to hear you finish that sentence.

  * * *

  Sterling

  * * *

  Because you’re creepy as shit with your spying and knowledge? That was my retort though I knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

  Though there was a robe on a hook in the bathroom, I walked past it as I made my way back out to the bedroom to the one last door I hadn’t opened.

  When I opened it, I found the clothes.

  The closet was bigger than my bedroom in Boulder. The walls were lined with open racks of clothes as well as drawers and compartments for shoes. Divided down the middle, one side contained a variety of men’s suits mostly in shades of gray and black. Starched button-down shirts all present in color groupings ranging from dark to light. It was a perfect rainbow, not one color out of place.

  OCD much?

  Farther down the closet were the clothes I thought I preferred he wore: blue jeans and casual shirts. Even the drawers on his side of the closet were organized with precision. Gym shorts, t-shirts, socks, and ties.

  What I could only assume was now my side of the closet was also full. Though all my clothes that I’d packed from Boulder were present, so were many more I’d never seen before. I ran my hand over the luxurious materials.

  My clothes too were hung in groupings: skirts subdivided by color, dresses divided by color and length, blouses by color and sleeve length, sweaters color, suit jackets color, casual clothes were there too. Jeans, capris, and tops.

  It was like walking into a boutique where everything was my size. Drawers contained various items of lingerie from bras and panties, to stockings and socks, and of course, sexy as well as comfortable sleeping attire. There was even an array of workout clothes.

  The shoes on my side were another matter altogether. The racks slid out like drawers, each one containing a half-dozen pairs of shoes. Heel length varied, as did the designers. There were boots of all styles, sandals, pumps, even athletic shoes.

  I shook my head as I took it all in.

  Standing naked in a sea of clothes, the reality overwhelmed me. My mind went to Louisa, her baby, and Boulder. Uncontrollably, tears spilled from my eyes. I sank to the posh bench in the middle of the room, pulled
my knees to my chest, and with my arms wrapped tightly around my legs, gave into the grief.

  My forehead fell to my knees as my lungs fought for air, and I choked on the boiling emotion.

  I wasn’t going home—ever.

  This was now my life.

  Such as it had been with the decision of my name—Hawkins or McCrie—and discussing my medical treatment, somehow within the last two weeks I’d lost control of...everything. As my tears finally slowed, I thought of something.

  No, I hadn’t lost control of everything. I wiped away the tears.

  I still had Sinful Threads.

  I just needed to get back to it, to the part of my life that was mine.

  Opening drawers, I found what I needed to dress and laid them on the bench where I’d been. Within minutes, I was back in the bathroom brushing out my sex-mussed hair, washing my face, and brushing my teeth. The reflection in the mirror continued to morph as did the woman I was, including my name.

  I stared beyond the surface into my own eyes. “Think of Josey. Think of the risk she took for you...think of how strong she was. She was your example. She didn’t send you away to be locked in a tower. She’d never settle for that. You may be back in Chicago, but that doesn’t mean your life is over. You and Louisa built a life, one you love. Don’t let Sterling Sparrow or anyone else change that.”

  I heard the words in my head. They began in my voice and ended in hers, my adoptive mother’s. Just as she’d said the last time I saw her—listen to my heart, she was there. With a heavy heart for the decisions that landed me here, I lifted my chin and made my way back to the closet.