Masked Definitions

by A. E. Murphy

  “I’m not.” He sounds affronted and his eyebrows vanish beyond his black hair. “Me and Elijah are fine.”

  “Liar.”

  His eyes narrow. “Am not.”

  “You so are.”

  “I am not.”

  I place my hands on my hips. “Cut the crap, Elijah.”

  “Elijah?” His brow quirks.

  Fuck.

  “Max… I meant Max. I’m tired.”

  His suspicious gaze lingers. “Whatever. Weirdo.”

  “Are you going to tell me what it is you’re hiding from me?”

  “I’m not hiding anything.”

  I don’t know how to handle this. Max has always been very forthcoming. This is new. “Fine, I’m here when you’re ready,” I relent, feeling like a hypocrite for trying to steal what’s in his mind when there’s so much I’m hiding from him in mine. “How is therapy?”

  “It’s therapy…”

  “You promised you’d try.”

  “I am trying. Rome wasn’t built in a day so stop being a b…” He stops himself before he calls me the one name he promised himself and his therapist he’d stop calling me.

  I guess he is trying.

  “I think I’ll just go and play on the Xbox. Have you ordered any furniture for the house yet?”

  I shake my head, no. “It’s not like we can afford to splash out right now. We’ll take our time, get the basics and then plan around it.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Your new favourite word? Are you twelve?”

  “Don’t start.” He grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to have a shower.”

  Olivia: Max isn’t telling me anything. Whatever beef he has with you is between you two. Ask him. Figure it out.

  Elijah: I’m not that interested, in all honesty. Max’s moods are harder to follow than income tax…

  Olivia: He’s your brother.

  Elijah: I’m aware but I’m trying to compartmentalise that fact, seeing as I’m still fucking his wife. I’m sure you understand.

  Olivia: You don’t have to be a twat about it. Besides, define ‘fucking’…

  Elijah: You know what I mean. Don’t twist my words. I’m in love with you and that isn’t changing.

  I delete the messages and throw my phone onto the couch. I should really invest in a phone that isn’t twenty years old but I wouldn’t know how to begin to use a smart phone.

  “Hey, baby,” my mum says softly into the phone. I can hear the smile in her voice. “How is everything?”

  “I’m going to tell Max in two weeks. After his birthday.”

  I hear her breath hitch. “You are?”

  “Yes so… be safe. Okay?”

  “Of course. However, how he’ll get to me I have no idea. Why in two weeks? I thought you were going to wait?”

  “I don’t think it matters when I do it anymore. His therapist has even said that he’s a ticking time bomb and is putting in a request to rehabilitate him. He says that he has more disorders than he can tick off a list and he’s uncertain why he was even released five years ago.”

  “Well we already knew that.”

  “I can’t take it anymore. Now I’ve had a taste of freedom, I want to be free,” I whisper, more to myself than to my mum. “Elijah paid for my first driving lesson today. It was a surprise.”

  “Elijah?” I hear the suspicion. “Why is Elijah paying for your driving lessons?”

  “Because he’s a nice guy.”

  “Not many of those left.” She sighs softly. “Do you think that generosity will stop when you leave Max?”

  “Elijah knows,” I admit and I listen when she clears her throat, something she does when she’s unsure about something. It’s something she has always done since I was small. “Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “He’s the one making Max go to therapy.”

  “I’m concerned.”

  “Don’t be. Elijah is helping me escape.”

  “Why?” She clears her throat again and I can’t deny that I’m grateful that I didn’t inherit that particular tick from her.

  “Because he’s a nice guy and he’s seen Max…” I clear my throat and cringe; maybe that tick did pass to me and I just haven’t realised it.

  “Olivia,” she prompts, her tone low and warning.

  “He’s seen Max get like he does with me.”

  “Violent?”

  “More grabby than violent.”

  “If he put his hands on you to get his point across then that’s violence.”

  She has a point. “I know… that’s why he’s helping me.”

  “Well…good. You know I’m here too, right?”

  “Of course I do.” I smile at the empty room, still feeling the buzz of the adrenaline from driving around York city. “My instructor said I was a natural, by the way.”

  “You take after me then.”

  I hear footsteps coming down the hall before Elijah appears in the doorway and mouths, “Where’s Max?”

  I point to the hall and mouth back, “Games room.”

  Grinning, he strides towards me and pulls my head to his with his hand around the back of my neck. His mouth finds mine with ease and only for a second. The kiss still leaves me breathless.

  “Are you there?” Mum asks and I realise that in my stupor I’ve removed the phone from my ear for too long.

  “Yeah, sorry. I was just having a drink.”

  His lips move to my neck as my eyes remain fixed on the door. Tilting my head back to allow him further access, I try to keep my breathing steady which proves difficult when I’m so desperate to moan and shake from the feeling he’s creating just by kissing along my throat and shoulder.

  “I should go anyway,” I tell her. “I’ve got so much to get done.”

  “Sure, sweetie. I love you. Call me again soon.”

  “I will.” I hang up and Elijah immediately bends and lifts me by my thighs so my chin is level with his forehead.

  “I have a present for you,” he says, holding me with such ease I feel as though my body is weightless.

  I kiss the tip of his nose and then his mouth as I slide down his body until my shoes are back on the ground. “You’re spoiling me.”

  “This gift is a bit selfish.” His grin is wicked and has me instantly intrigued, although I can kind of already guess what it is that he’s purchased for me. “Start getting ready the second Max leaves. A driver is picking us up at nine and I want my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours before we go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Dancing.” He kisses my lips once more and pulls away to answer the phone vibrating in his pocket.

  Dancing? I don’t get to ask as he’s exiting the room and I look down at my clothing wondering what the hell I’m going to wear.

  Dancing tells me very little about what it is we’ll actually be doing.

  Dancing as in clubbing?

  Dancing as in ballroom?

  Dancing as in fucking to music?

  Dancing as in me on a pole?

  “What is up with you lately?” Max asks, snapping me out of my daydream. I stare into his dark eyes. “You’re so spacey.”

  I don’t respond; I just wait for him to tell me what he wants.

  “I’m hungry. Shall we go eat somewhere?”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere away from here. I actually need to talk to you.”

  Maybe he is finally ready to open up about why he’s been dodgy with Elijah for the past couple of days.

  “Sure.” I smile and check my phone for the time. We have two hours before he has to work. “Let me just grab my bag.”

  He waits, looking nervously around as he shifts from one foot to the other. “Be quick, we’re meeting a friend of mine.”

  A friend? Now I’m really intrigued.

  I’m even more intrigued when he waves off the driver’s offer of a lift and leads us silently onto the streets of York and straight to a bus stop where he calls a taxi.

  Random
as fuck.

  “You’re being so weird.”

  “I don’t trust that Elijah won’t have somebody neb in on our meeting.”

  “Meeting?” This is just getting weirder. “What’s going on, Max?”

  “You’ll see,” is all he says before the taxi arrives and we make the journey to a not so well known hotel on the edge of the city. The taxi costs a fortune but Max doesn’t even blink as he pays it, which is so unlike him. His stillness, seriousness and concentration are actually scaring me. I’m not sure how to handle this new side of Max.

  We enter the hotel and immediately head towards the elevator.

  “Freaking out now,” I say as it takes us up to the private restaurant on the third floor. The second the doors open I scent smoke and food… not a great mixture, yet my mouth is watering all the same.

  The room is shadowed. The only sunlight available is glowing through the translucent, cream blinds that cover all of the windows.

  The people sitting at the round tables by candlelight don’t seem to mind. In fact, none of them are making much noise at all either. The chatter is such a low murmur, it’s almost as quiet as a library.

  Max speaks quietly to the man behind the bar who winks at me over his shoulder. I give him a tight-lipped smile, eager to get to where it is we are going.

  “There you are.” A loud, male voice booms over the silence, causing all heads to turn our way. “Come, come.”

  “Max?” I whisper, feeling uneasy in the man’s company. He’s a tall, handsome man with startling white blonde hair. My issue is his eyes. They’re slanted and narrow and gaze upon his surroundings as though he’s superior. He emits a vibe that instantly sets off my flight instincts.

  “This must be the beautiful Olivia.” He smiles, showing slightly crooked but white teeth. I place my hand in his, showing my good manners, and wait for him to finish pressing his lips to my knuckles before pulling away. “I’m so glad you could make it. Call me Carl.”

  Why is he glad I could make it?

  “Follow me to my temporary office. Allan is waiting for us in there.”

  “He has news?” Max speaks at last, taking my hand in his.

  “Oh, he has news. You aren’t going to like it.” Carl’s frown replaces his lopsided grin.

  Max’s hand comes to mine and he squeezes it for support. Support for what, though?

  The second we step into the office, I’m assaulted by the scent of stale cigarettes. Sensing my discomfort, the man behind the desk – who must be Allan – moves to open a window. It doesn’t help much.

  His eyes scan me up and down and I cringe when I realise that this is a man I’ve danced for before. My heart takes a running leap at my rib cage as panic ensues. Does Max know? Has this man told him?

  Fortunately, his eyes leave me as quickly as they sought me. He doesn’t recognize me. Or if he does, he’s not showing it. I doubt Max would be holding my hand right now or placing me in the same room as this man, had he heard of my deceptions. Not only that, but Max would not be able to stay quiet for so long.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Olivia.” Allan extends his hand. I shake it before he moves onto Max. “I’m Allan, Mr Wakefield’s attorney.”

  “Me.” Carl points to his chest and motions for us to sit. “Can I offer you a drink?”

  “No thank you,” I tell him softly, still wondering why I’m here. I look to Max for guidance as a drink that I didn’t ask for is placed in front of me.

  “It was as expected,” Allan states and Max’s hard gaze rests firmly on his. “With the correct representation, we would have been able to get at least a third of all assets and moneys left behind by your birth father.”

  My heart skips a beat in my chest and my eyes fly to Max, whose lips are twitching.

  “The problem we have is these.”

  Max’s smile fades as my shaking hands reach out to touch the photocopied papers spread across the desk.

  I’ve never been so badly betrayed that I want to rip out my own heart, purely to stop it from constantly aching.

  “Did you sign this?” Allan says, pointing to a white, A4 sheet of paper with a lot of writing. My signature is at the bottom, as well as the date.

  “That’s definitely my signature,” I whisper, recognising my neat scrawl anywhere. “But I didn’t sign this.”

  “It was signed a few days ago…”

  I realise I must have signed it in the midst of the NDA paperwork, where it was likely hiding while Elijah distracted me with his mouth and hands.

  Max sits silently beside me, nursing a beer in his hands. His shoulders slump forward right before his arm flies back, sending the beer spiralling across the room.

  I watch blankly as it shatters on the wall, spraying beer in all directions.

  “That fucking wanker. This…” He stands and slaps his hand on his chest. “Me and him, it was all for fucking greed.” His hands go to his hair and grip. “He didn’t care about me; he just didn’t want me having half of what’s his.”

  “Calm down,” I tell him. Regardless of how fucked up this situation is, I can’t let him lose control.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” he bellows so loudly I wonder if the windows shook. “That fucker fucked us both!”

  “I know,” I whimper, bringing my knees up to my chest.

  “We’re never getting any of it. You heard what Allan said and he’s one of the top solicitors in his field. He knows what he’s talking about.”

  “I know.” But I don’t care about the money. I care about the lies. I care about whether or not Elijah used me and fucked me purely to get me to sign these papers. “I’m angry too, but what can we do?”

  “We can fight it.”

  “We can’t.”

  “We have to!”

  “There were witnesses to every single signing. We’ll never win. You heard what Allan said.” I explain. My mouth feels dry and my tongue feels heavy. “Let’s just go home, calm down and…”

  “No. There is no going home and calming down. I want to punch him in his fucking face!”

  I stand and place my hands on his shoulders. “Please calm down.”

  “Stop telling me to calm down.”

  “Max…” I take a step away from him, knowing that it’s no good being within grabbing distance. “You freak me out when you’re like this.”

  His dark eyes sharpen and I know that I have to ditch him now or calm him, or he’ll take this out on me. My heart starts rapidly beating in my chest, fear clenching my palms and beading sweat on my forehead.

  “I’ll go and get a bottle of vodka, shall I?”

  With his chest rising and falling, he suddenly lunges for me and instead of hitting me… or worse… he pulls me into his chest and rests his chin against my temple.

  “Come back soon. I don’t like how empty this place is.” He’s talking about the hotel room we’re in, that holds a bed and little else.

  “Then come with me for a long walk,” I say softly as he rocks us both in his arms.

  “No, I…” Pulling back, he kisses my forehead. “I’m trying to be good right now but all I want to do is punch somebody.” This is the first time he’s ever admitted that his anger is irrational and dangerous. “So, go.”

  Inhaling deeply, I burn the memory of his lemon scent to my brain and step away. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Be quick.”

  I turned my phone off three hours ago, an hour before I was supposed to meet Elijah and an hour before Max was supposed to go to work. I didn’t know what to say. I’ve always been the type of person that likes to settle her own mind before she starts yelling and cussing at somebody, but my mind is blown. I don’t know how to handle this.

  Maybe standing Elijah up wasn’t the best solution, but I don’t know what to say to him.

  I turn my phone on after a long deliberation and the second I do, it begins to ring. Elijah’s name flashes on the screen. I reject the call just as a thousand messages come throug
h, all of them from him. It’s not until I see this one, that I call him back.

  Elijah: You’re missing. Max is missing. I’ve never felt so worried. Please… PLEASE, even if I’ve done something to make you hate me, send me a text so that I know he hasn’t hurt you. Please.

  He answers immediately, his tone husky and full of relief. “Liv…”

  “When were you going to tell me that the only reason you seduced me was to get me to sign those papers that essentially fuck Max over?”

  His silence is deafening. It lasts for so long, I’m not even certain he’s on the line anymore until he asks, “Where are you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I don’t want to see you.”

  His voice is deep and breathy when he says the shortened version of my name. “Liv.”

  “I literally do not want to even look at you right now.”

  “Please, tell me where you are so I can come and get you and explain.”

  “Explain now.”

  “No…” He breathes in and releases. “Not on the phone.”

  I can hear my heart cracking. “You don’t trust me. You think I’ll record you and prove our stupidity in signing shit without our knowledge.”

  “That’s not it and you know it…”

  “It isn’t?"

  “Tell me where you are,” he continues. “Please.”

  Resigned, I snarl, “No. You’ll explain yourself right now.”

  “Olivia…”

  “Unless you don’t trust me.”

  His silence lingers between us for a long moment.

  It’s me who breaks it, purely so that I can get this crap out of my head before I push him out of my life. “You don’t trust me.”

  “There’s a lot at stake.”

  He doesn’t trust me. He says he loves me yet he doesn’t trust me. I’m not doing this again. “Goodbye, Elijah.”

  “Goodbye?” His voice hits a lower note, a dangerous one.

  “As in bye, adios, see you never.”

  “Liv…”

  I hang up before he can talk me out of it and wipe the angry tears onto my sleeve. Then I go and buy vodka and drink half of the bottle before I make it back to the hotel room Max rented for us. The alcohol has not only made me woozy but it has also given me a clarity I wouldn’t have otherwise.