When I Lied

by Michelle Kemper Brownlow

  “Yeah, I tried.” MacKenna shrugged. “Sorry it didn’t work for you, Kate. We saw Jason leaving not too long after we left you at the door.” I threw my shorts and t-shirt to the floor and stood before them in my bra and panties.

  “Just because he didn’t stay over doesn’t mean it didn’t work for me.” I took a short, black jumper off the hanger and stepped into it.

  “WHAT??!!” Their squeals actually knocked me off balance. I caught myself before I fell and shook my head at them. We really were middle school girls on the inside sometimes.

  “We kissed. And it was really nice.” I blushed and smirked at their gasps and had to turn away from them. I checked myself out in the mirror and envied the contents of MacKenna’s closet. She was the closest to my size, almost an exact match, so if I didn’t soon let them take me wardrobe shopping, she’d cut me off from borrowing her stuff because I couldn’t reciprocate unless she wanted jeans and t-shirts or hoodies. Which she didn’t.

  “You guys kissed? That’s awesome, Kate. He’s a really, really good guy. Most of the guys at Beta Sig are. Really decent guys. We’re lucky, ya know. There are a ton of fraternities that live up to the manipulative, sexual assault headlines we see every day. But not our guys. They’re good guys.”

  “Yeah, he was very sweet. And very respectable. I just…”

  “Wait! You’re going on a date tonight, aren’t you? With Jason?”

  Ugh.

  “Yes. I mean, no, well, sort of a date. And, no. Not with Jason.” In my mind, I was going on a date with Oliver… and Gretchen was tagging along. But, I was certain in her mind, I was the one tagging along.

  I stripped off the jumper and tried on a black maxi dress that was a little fancier, more grown up with a slit all the way up to my thigh. That was it. I headed to my vanity to do something with my hair that was still wet from my shower. And I wanted their help with my makeup.

  “Where’s your date?” Emily walked over and grabbed a comb. She started to twist it up against the back of my head.

  “Emily!” Hayden laughed. “Where?! That’s your first question?!”

  “Who is your date with, and where are you going?” Jules corrected Emily and came over to go through my makeup drawer.

  “It’s just a guy I’ve known for a while. But, it’s not really a date; it’s with another girl, too. We’re going into the city. I’m not sure exactly where, though.” Wow. I didn’t expect it to be so difficult to be secretive. My story with Oliver was so complicated that even trying to just give minimal details proved difficult.

  “Explain, sister.” Emily poked me in the back of the head with one of the bobby pins she used to secure the twist to my head. She carefully pulled out a couple tendrils from in front of my ears. She missed her calling as a hair stylist. But I guess the kids she will teach one day could somehow benefit from her trendy talents.

  “Girls. I can’t.” My phone rang, which was a godsend. It was a number I didn’t know, and no one that was in my contacts. But I answered it anyway so the girls couldn’t continue to pry and was surprised by the voice on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “Kate, it’s Jason.”

  “Hi, Jason.” I gave the girls a look and they giggled. I tried to figure out which one of them gave him my number. I never put him in my contacts after he gave me his number in the quad. In fact, I’d completely forgotten I had his number until that moment.

  “We’re having a party tonight and I was wondering if you were coming out with the girls. I was hoping to see you again.” He was so sweet. I felt so bad.

  “I’m so sorry, Jason. I have plans.” I bit my lip and awaited his deflected response.

  “Understandable. An amazing girl like you would surely have plans on a Friday night. I’ll try and be proactive in my future invitations. Maybe I’ll get to you first one of these times.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I stammered a little. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. Considering all my friends practically live at your house.” I loved that I said my friends and meant it. For so long I’d referred to mere acquaintances as friends when I talked to other teens. This time I meant it. My friends. And, that made me smile.

  “I look forward to it, Kate. Have a good night.”

  “You, too, Jason.”

  “Kate?” His voice remained hopeful.

  “Yeah?” I raised my eyebrows and shook my head at the girls who high-fived each other.

  “Now, you have my number in your phone and not just on a slip of paper.”

  “Perfect.” I smiled. He was no dummy. He knew I hadn’t put it in my phone. And for that I felt bad. Jason was interested and I was distracted.

  Twelve

  When a black stretch limo pulled up outside my dorm, the girls went nuts. There was a window at the end of the hall that looked out onto the sidewalk. The girls screamed when the car pulled up. Emily even FaceTimed Ally so she could see it with her own eyes. I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting a limo. I guess I hadn’t thought about the fact that Moose probably wasn’t taking us in his big white utility van. The girls hugged and kissed me, careful not to mess up my makeup, then stood at the window as I made my way outside. My body quaked with nerves.

  A salt and pepper-haired man I’d never seen before took my hand. “Miss Green, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He opened the door for me and I slid into the backseat but not before I winked at the window filled with my very own set of groupies.

  “Kate, you look absolutely stunning.” Oliver leaned toward me from the adjacent seat with a glass of champagne. He took my hand and kissed it then handed me the glass. If I kept at this social drinking thing, I’d have quite the alcohol tolerance built up before Christmas break.

  “Thank you, Oliver. You look handsome, too.” He wore black pants, a crisp white dress shirt—untucked and unbuttoned at the neck with a loosened bowtie, of course—and a black sport coat. All that juxtaposed with his unruly black locks took my breath away. On stage, Oliver rarely wore much more than skinny jeans; I was pleasantly shocked to see him so dressed up. So ungodly handsome.

  I glanced over at Gretchen, who was next to him. She scowled at me. “I love your dress, Gr—” I almost blew it. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Lexi, I love your dress.” Oliver didn’t pick up on anything but I was certain Gretchen’s heart pounded as fast as mine. She nodded and fake-smiled, but said nothing. I reminded myself, in class she was Gretchen, tonight, she was Lexi.

  Go ahead, Gretchen. Show Oliver your bitchy self. You can’t hide it forever.

  “We will be meeting the rest of the band at Minibar.”

  “Minibar? Wow.” I’d seen an interview Anderson Cooper did with José Andrés, the owner of both Minibar and Barmini, in which he mentioned the restaurant being included in Bon Appetit’s list of “The 11 Toughest Restaurant Reservations in the US.” I wasn’t sure I was ready for something so elite, but I’d be damned if I was going to let it get to me with Gretchen as my biggest critic. It was nice to see this side of Oliver. All put together, seemingly not distraught or struggling with any demons.

  We met up with the band inside Minibar, a very avant-garde establishment with an intimate feel and lots of white. I didn’t expect to feel as comfortable as I did when we were seated. Whitewashed hardwood floors, white countertop seating, white chairs, white shelving against one wall, yet the small venue had a strangely homey feel. Almost like you were sitting in someone’s kitchen. A very rich someone. But someone familiar, nonetheless.

  There was seating for twelve along the U-shaped chef’s table. I watched a principal bartender and his team hover over blocks of ice, commandeering ice picks and induction burners. I looked around at the open shelving along the back wall. Inside each rectangular-shaped nook was some type of vessel, unique in its own right. There were white enamel planter boxes suspended from the ceiling with bright green plant tentacles that reached for the ground, some winding around the cords that he
ld them in place.

  We had the room to ourselves. Our own epic private party. I just wished Gretchen wasn’t along for the ride. I knew it’d be easy for her to put a damper on things and not feel a single pang of guilt if she ruined the evening. I had a feeling she’d been a “mean girl” in high school.

  The classical piano music made the ambiance that much more ethereal. You could almost see the pianist’s fingers run up and down the keys, plucking beautiful tones from under the lid. The sound was so effortless, my body sunk into my seat as though it’d been calling my name my whole life.

  Just then, the bartender called us over and we stood belly-up to the bar in front of him as he explained each drink they had on the night’s menu in great detail. No one asked for ID. I heard every word he said but there was much of his verbiage that floated right over my head. I knew I was going to have to order something so I just grabbed hold of a name and held it in my attention until it was my turn to order. I prayed it tasted good because there was no doubt we were in the kind of place that frowned upon untouched food and drink.

  “Yes, may I please have the Red Jacket?” I caught the words fuchsia, Creamsicle and Campari in the description and figured it was something I would like. I didn’t pay attention to what anyone else had ordered so when our drinks came out it was like show and tell. Everyone was flabbergasted at the artistic beauty of each drink. It was almost a sin to drink them. I reached for my phone but then realized how immature and anti-fancy it would be to take a picture to post online, so I didn’t even take it out of my clutch—well, MacKenna’s clutch.

  The U-shaped bar allowed for the seven of us to sit across from each other for easy conversation. Three on one side and four on the other. Of course, Gretchen scooted Oliver to the end of their side of the table and she grabbed the only seat next to him. Max motioned for me to have my choice of seat on our side and he, Theo and Calvin waited for me to choose. Oliver smiled sweetly when I chose to sit directly across from him. Gretchen rolled her eyes and then batted her eyes at George, who sat on the other side of her.

  “It is so nice to have some pretty faces to look at this evening.” Theo motioned to me and Gretchen. “I get tired of staring at their ugly mugs all the time.” I smiled and held his gaze. Or he held mine. It was then I realized how incredibly beautiful his eyes were. I couldn’t even describe the color. Then he winked. I blushed and quickly looked away.

  “Phobia5. I can’t find anything anywhere about how you all came up with the name.” Gretchen plastered a fake smile across her face and batted her eyes yet again.

  “Well, you know what they say, what happens at Minibar, stays at Minibar. Okay?” George used his finger to slice his throat and we all laughed. His dirty blond hair stood on end, which made him look the maniacal part.

  “I can break it down for you easily.” Calvin, who seemed to be the quiet one, spoke up. He took a sip from his tall, slender glass of something Day-Glo green then continued. “We’re all freakishly terrified of something and there are five of us. Hence, the phobia and five.”

  “Interesting. And what are these freakish phobias?” Gretchen’s elbows were on the edge of the table. And she slowly clasped her hands and perched her chin atop them. I quietly imagined pouring my drink in her lap and smiled on the inside. I was for sure turning into a deviant.

  I couldn’t believe they weren’t picking up on her ulterior motives. She was interviewing them. I had to stop her.

  “Do you know what I’m afraid of?” It was so out of character, not to mention very rude of me to interrupt and jump into the conversation to talk about myself, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t just ask them another question, because I didn’t want to put the information she wanted right in her hands.

  “I don’t see you as someone who is afraid of much.” Oliver tilted his head to the side and smiled again. His smile melted me.

  “I’m terrified of the dark.” I looked around to see their reactions and although they all smiled and nodded, I realized that was not worth interrupting Gretchen’s question for. It quite possibly made me look like an idiot. “The dark and jellyfish.”

  “Jellyfish?” Theo squealed the word a little too loud and we got a grumpy look from the bartender, who’d spilled a little amber liquid on the counter when he jumped.

  “Yeah, there’s a long story that goes with that but it’s not one for a fancy, posh place like this.” I cupped my hand next to my mouth and leaned in over the table to whisper to them and to make sure the bartender didn’t hear me. The last thing I needed was to get us kicked out. “You have to pee on a jellyfish sting to make it stop stinging.”

  Our end of the bar erupted in laughter. Oliver even snorted. Gretchen, however, glared at me and appeared completely annoyed.

  “So, who inspires you?” Gretchen turned and directed her question directly to Oliver. I suspected that was her way to keep me from interrupting again.

  I’d have to let her slide with this one; I didn’t want to be too obvious.

  “Well, Lexi, of all the conversations we’ve had, that’s not one I remember having, which is odd, it’s usually the first question people ask when they’re getting to know me. And we’re so far past that phase.” My heart thumped in my chest.

  “I was more interested in your heart, Oliver. Now I’m just playing catch up.” And that’s when it happened. She leaned in and kissed him softly on his lips. The same lips I’ve studied in the thousands of YouTube videos I’ve watched of their performances. She kissed him. Right in front of me.

  She marked her territory.

  “Can I guess?” I could play her game.

  “Sure. Take a stab at it, Kate. I’d love to hear what you think.” His accent and whatever was in my Red Jacket drink kept me warm from the inside out. Typically I got cold when I was nervous. And being in a place as fancy as Minibar and having drinks with Phobia5, sitting across from Oliver Walt should have had me growing icicles from my eyelashes. Instead I was so warm, like everything I loved about Oliver was woven into a cashmere blanket and I was wrapped up in him.

  “I would have to say, there’s a touch of his style in some of your songs. Not all your songs. Just a couple. I’d have to say, you’re mostly inspired by…” I wanted a dramatic pause, so I created one. “Cole Porter.”

  “Oh my God! You’re right! Wow. I’m completely honored that you heard his influence in our music. Thank you, Kate. That’s one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received.”

  Gretchen scowled at me until Oliver turned toward her and gushed some more about how well I knew his music to be able to hear Cole Porter’s influence in the melodies.

  It wasn’t completely true. I did hear Porter’s influence, but I only knew to look for it after Oliver told me that dope and Cole Porter were his anxiety’s lovers. It was our first phone conversation. I remembered every word he spoke that night.

  Even the part when he described what groupie sex was like. I sat there across the table from him and wondered how many girls he’d been with in the past week since they’d come to town. I assumed they’d been partaking in the D.C. party scene every night. But I’d been distanced from Oliver. In one sense, he felt a million miles away, but in another, he was close enough that I could still see the twinge of pain that resided deep in his big brown eyes.

  The lie I’d created clawed at me from inside my chest. I breathed life into it each time I went along with Gretchen pretending to be Lexi. Which I was doing as we sat and enjoyed each other’s company at Minibar.

  “So, tell me, Kate. What do you know about Cole Porter?” I was thrilled to hold Oliver’s attention; not because I was flirting, but because we were connected in a way I knew he wasn’t with Gretchen. If that made me a bitch, then so be it.

  “Definitely not as much as you know, I’m sure. He was an American songwriter and composer. I think I read somewhere that his grandfather tried to talk him out of making a profession of music, which he ignored, and by the time he was forty, he was on
e of the major songwriters for Broadway. I know this because of his musical, Kiss Me, Kate. I’ve seen the movie about a hundred times.” I loved telling Oliver the truth.

  “Do you know what happened to him just before he wrote Kiss Me, Kate?” Oliver was fully engaged. We were no longer on a group date—it was just us. Oliver and Kate.

  “I don’t.” I took the last sip of my drink and leaned in to hear what Oliver had to tell. I could see Gretchen out of the corner of my eye. I dared not look at her as there was no doubt she was putting curses on me left and right.

  “In 1937 both his legs were crushed in a horseback riding accident. For two decades he endured many operations and years of unbearable pain and it was within that timeframe that some of his most brilliant works were conceived.” I hung on every word. I could see the striking parallels between Porter’s and Oliver’s lives. “The Broadway hits Kiss Me, Kate, Can-Can, Silk Stockings and the remake of The Philadelphia Story were all seen to fruition by Porter as he suffered from inside an ailing body. It’s a very sad story because only a very few people actually knew what he was going through. He exuded creative genius even though he was a prisoner inside a tragic life. Four years after losing the love of his life, his wife Linda, an infection found its way into his bones and one of his legs had to be amputated. It was reported that he told his friends, I’m only half a man now.”

  “Unbelievable.” The story Oliver told had me blinking back tears. Not because I was entirely wrapped up in the life of Cole Porter. But, I was wrapped up in the life of a creative genius who was held prisoner by a tragic life. “Please, tell me there’s a happy ending.”

  “Sorry, Kate. Like most creative geniuses, Cole Porter confined himself to his apartment, broken-hearted and addicted to painkillers and alcohol, all the while enduring overwhelming depression. It’s the curse of creative brilliance. You know, pours himself into his craft and inspires generations only to die alone, addicted and empty.”