Secrets, Lies & Imperfections

by Pamela L. Todd

“Prove it?” I asked with a bitter laugh. “How am I supposed to prove myself when you won’t give me a fucking chance?”

  “Because borrowing a car and returning it in the same condition does not mean you’re suddenly this responsible adult who should be given respect.” Blake shook his head, as though I were a sullen child who’d missed the entire point of the lesson. “Grow up, Seth. Start acting like the person you claim to be, and I might start treating you like it.”

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” I asked. I clenched my fist so hard my knuckles turned white. “Since I’ve come back home, I’ve been nothing but a responsible adult. I got a good job. I’m not out partying all the time. I pull my weight around here.” I gestured to the forgotten meal on the table, growing cold, like the atmosphere in the room.

  Blake smiled, cruel and hostile. “Right. You got a good job—in a club, slinging drinks with a little paperwork thrown in to keep Dad happy. You don’t need to go out partying every night because you’re already there with your job, only you’re earning a little money instead of spending a lot of Dad’s. You pull your weight around here when it suits your own purpose.”

  “Blake,” Marley said, her voice cautious.

  He didn’t look at her. He was honing in for the kill and nothing would break his concentration. “Like when you’re trying to impress some poor, clueless girl.”

  My blood turned to ice in my veins. I wanted to shout and yell. I wanted to throw a goddamn tantrum and fling my plate at his fat head. Instead I swallowed the emotion, bitter as it was, and plastered a fake smile across my face. “You would expect any less? I’m only interested in bedding her. She’s taking longer than usual, so I need to up my game. I figured a sweet little ride in the convertible should have her sucking my dick before the night was out.”

  Blake’s face twisted in revulsion. “You’re pathetic. Truly.”

  Unable to contain my simmering anger for a second longer, I slammed my open palm down on the table. Marley jumped but I didn’t take my eyes from Blake’s sneer. “And I couldn’t have been fucking lying, could I, Blake? Jesus Christ, what do you really think of me?”

  Blake held up his hands. He shook his head as he raked his judgmental gaze over me from top to bottom and apparently found me wanting. “I’m done here. I’m not getting into this ridiculous argument with you when we both know who’s at fault.” He glanced at Marley for a brief second before shoving out of his chair and leaving the room.

  Charged air still hung around me and Marley. Her neck and cheeks were flushed and I’d bet good money she was moments from breaking down herself.

  I let out a long, slow breath to try to chill some of the adrenaline spiking in my blood. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”

  She shook her head and threw me a wobbly smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I swear. I really did just want to do something nice for the two of you.” And look how well it had turned out. Meddling, in any way shape or form, was doomed for failure. At least, it was if I were the one doing it. Now I’d made things doubly as awkward and I doubted Blake would calm down for at least a few days. Not what this beaten and broken couple needed at all.

  “I know—” Marley started.

  “Don’t you dare try and sweet talk her onto your side!” Blake roared as he stormed back into the dining room. “How dare you? God, nothing has changed with you. Here we are, two years later, and you are still playing everyone off against each other when something doesn’t go your way.”

  I got to my feet so quickly the chair toppled over behind me. “I was telling her the truth. I wanted to do something nice for you guys. It’s no secret how tense things are around here these days.”

  Blake’s face turned a violent shade of puce. Ah, shit…wrong thing to say, even for me. “You thought she would be the soft touch—the one more likely to let you back into her good graces.” He sneered. “Don’t be here when I get home.” His back was rigid as he left again, fists clenched hard—and I knew it was to keep from hitting me.

  Even as kids, we’d never gotten physical with each other. Blake was the calm and cool one. I was the wild one you couldn’t catch. Even when I had been a little prick and broken his shit—not always on purpose…not always an accident, either—he’d not given me the pounding I had deserved. It had become a game for me, to see how far I could push him. The closest he got had been locking me in the laundry room for twenty minutes after I had hid in his closet when he had been making out with his girlfriend. Man, I was filthy little pervert, even then.

  Blake had never laid his hands on me. But I had a feeling I’d just come as close to it as I ever had in my life. I wasn’t a kid anymore and I had to take responsibility for myself and my actions… But Christ, if Blake ever took a swing at me, I think it would break what was already so fucking fragile to begin with.

  A single tear slid down Marley’s cheek. She scrubbed it away as though by getting rid of it she didn’t have to acknowledge it.

  I moved around the table and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m really sorry.” There was little point in saying anything else. If I tried to defend myself, Blake would probably still be in earshot and would rush into the room and lay me flat on my back. If I told her my true intentions of the evening, I’d no doubt hurt her more.

  She didn’t respond, or even look my way, as I left the dining room. I threw on my jacket and shoved my phone and wallet into the pockets and headed out the front door. Blake’s car was gone and I didn’t put it past him to be back soon, just to check that I’d followed his command like a good little Boy Scout and vacated his house.

  The argument with Blake ran on a loop in my head as I trudged down the street, no firm destination in mind. One of these days, I really would have to get my shit together and stop making things worse for everyone involved.

  Maybe Dad and Blake were right. I’ll always be the same old Seth, the same loveable screw-up who needs a firm hand.

  I kicked a mailbox and fuck me, it must have been made out of titanium because it felt like I broke every goddamn bone in my foot. Throwing my head back and staring into the dark night sky, I let out a sigh. This night was not going well.

  Dropping onto the curb, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through the contacts. I had a few options and the most appealing—and therefore going by my current streak of luck, the most unadvisable—was Cassidy.

  Hank answered within three rings, the blare of a bar almost drowning out his voice. “Hamilton! Where the fuck have you been, man?”

  “Hey, what are you guys doing tonight?” I asked, giving my toes a wiggle in my sneaker. Ouch. Just fucking great.

  “We’re down at Sam’s. Old favorite of yours, wasn’t it?” Hank asked with a laugh.

  Jesus, was it ever. Sam’s bar was the right kind of grungy, full of loose women looking for a good time and cheap beer on tap. Me and the guys had spent many nights filling the cash register and satisfying our dicks.

  And it sounded fucking perfect. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  * * * *

  There’s nothing quite like walking into a place you haven’t set foot in for years but feeling as though you’ve never parted. Sam’s still smelled exactly the same. The pungent smoke around the door where smokers grabbed their fix, beer, tequila and cheap perfume mixing together inside to create a weird comfort blanket of scents that were imbedded in my memories.

  Hank, Jimmy and Mike had a booth in the back, two brunettes with a line of shots sandwiched between the former two. It was Mike who saw me first, and the giant fucker slid out of the booth with all the grace of a rhino, knocking into the table and sloshing beer over the sides of the full glasses.

  He thumped me on the shoulder, a smile stretching across his face. “Hamilton! How’s it going? Finally get sick of Euro babes and decided to come home to the motherland, huh?”

  I grinned. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Mike shoved his way back into the booth and
I took the minimal space he left. “Have a beer,” he said, placing a glass in front of me.

  Hank gave me a nod and gestured to the girl plastered against his side. “This is Charmaine. She’s a showgirl.”

  Right. And my left nut was just for show. I smiled at her anyway. “Nice. Hank has a thing for showgirls.”

  “So I hear,” she purred, tracing the ring of her glass with her finger.

  Mike snorted beside me. “So I hear you’re running the club at The Oasis now. How’s that working out for you?”

  “Good,” I said with a nod. “It’s really good. You guys should come in one night. Bring your girl.”

  Jimmy groaned across the table. He glared at me and threw back a shot. “That’s all the big man does now, Hamilton. Trots her out fucking everywhere.”

  Mike cuffed him upside the head. “Watch your fucking mouth. If you took the time to enjoy your women, you might find one you wanted more than one quick meal from.”

  Jimmy laughed, high-pitched and full of good humor. “What, so I’m into the fast food of women?”

  “No, more like the drive-thru of fast food.”

  I laughed at the look on Jimmy’s face—part insulted, part recognition that Mike was probably right.

  “What about you, Hamilton?” Mike asked. “Have you slowed down any, or do you still have as big an appetite as you used to?”

  Cassidy’s face flashed in my mind and I didn’t have a clue what to say. I wasn’t the kind of guy who was afraid of what his friends might think. These assholes were more accepting than anyone in my family had ever been, even if they did like to give each other a hard time. But what the hell could I say? Yeah, there’s this one girl. She’s pretty cool and she’s got me tied up in knots. We haven’t had sex. She probably doesn’t even trust me.

  “You know me,” I said with a grin. “But let’s just say my tastes are more acute these days.”

  Mike threw a heavy arm around my shoulders. Jesus, how does his girl handle this gorilla? Mike had played football in high school, and even got a scholarship to play ball in college. But a dirty tackle his sophomore year blew his knee and any chance he had of going pro. Now he’s into sports therapy and, apparently, still kept up his insane training to stay so big and beefy. “You’ll get there, man. Women…they’re cautious around guys like us. And for damn good reason.”

  And it seemed that Mike had also become way more attuned to what we said, and what we didn’t say.

  A blonde with thin, straight hair and tight red shirt slid a tray of shots onto our table. She winked at me. “You guys ready for another round?”

  Hank and Jimmy whooped and reached for a shot each. “Thanks, Jenna. You’re a good girl,” Hank said, tossing back his shot.

  “Who’s your friend?” Jenna asked, not taking her eyes from me. Once it would have been a turn-on. Now I was a deer trapped in a set of headlights.

  “That’s Seth. He just got here. Make him feel welcome, will you, Jen?” Jimmy said with a wink.

  Jenna smiled, slow and calculating. She grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat herself as close to me as she could without being on my lap. “I’d love to. My shift just finished.”

  I exchanged a look with Mike. It wasn’t so long ago we’d both have counted Jenna as an easy target, and probably wouldn’t have bothered to chase harder game. After the argument with Blake, it would be so fucking easy to go with it. Let Jenna here blow me, clearing my mind along with my balls.

  She was pretty enough. Tits perky enough—though I’d been fooled by an expert bra more than once in my life—and almost falling out of the plunging neckline of her shirt. But it was a different shade of snarky, curvy blonde I wanted to lose myself in.

  “I haven’t seen you around here before,” Jenna said, reaching for the beer in front of me and taking a sip. She lifted her eyebrows, putting me up for some bullshit test. She was welcome to the beer. I didn’t give a shit.

  “Hamilton used to live here. But he’s been whoring around Europe for a few years,” Hank said, pushing a shot glass across the table to me.

  “Oh yeah?” Jenna asked softly, leaning that little bit closer to me. “Sounds fun. What did you do for work?”

  Jimmy snorted. “Who needs to work?”

  All three of us came from families with money. It was how Jimmy and Hank funded their party lifestyle, only their parents didn’t give them shit for it. And Mike actually earned his own living now, though it wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time, he was a trust fund brat just like the rest of us. My dad’s empire put whatever my friend’s families had in the bank to shame, but they never cared and it never mattered.

  Jenna brushed my leg with her foot. “All play for you then? Were you a very busy boy?”

  “Something like that,” I mumbled.

  “I hope you saved some energy for us poor girls back home,” she said, dropping her hand onto my forearm and tracing her fingers up my skin. It made my aching balls tighten. But not in want.

  I reached for the shot Hank had gave me as an excuse to break the contact. It burned on the way down, but it was better than having my skin crawl. As I placed the empty glass on the table, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Unlocking the front screen, it showed a new text from Cassidy.

  Noodles sucked ass. Hope your dinner is going down better than mine did.

  I smiled and thumbed out a response.

  Dinner blew. What are you doing?

  She responded within a few seconds.

  Watching TV and lounging around like a potato. You?

  It was easy to picture her sprawled out on a couch, maybe wearing a pair of tiny shorts and loose T-shirt, long caramel-colored hair splayed out across a cushion. The visual was way more appealing than what was right in front of me. Lying on a couch with Cass would be a balm to my raw insides. Why hadn’t I just called her earlier instead of thinking drowning my wounded pride would be all I needed to get over the stupid fight with Blake?

  Wondering what the hell I’m doing. Do you want company? I’d make a fucking amazing potato…

  I tapped my foot as I waited for her reply.

  LOL. Sure.

  “Girlfriend?” Jenna asked, breaking my concentration from my text conversation with Cassidy.

  I frowned, annoyed she’d snapped me out of the bubble I’d had going on and pissed at myself for not knowing how to answer the question. “Girl,” I finally settled with.

  Jenna shifted even closer and started rubbing my leg with her foot again. “There are plenty of girls right here.”

  I smiled. “She’s not.”

  She huffed, admitting defeat. Funny, I’d thought it would take more to scare her off. Guess she doesn’t like any kind of competition, which worked out well for me. “I’m going to get a drink.”

  “You do that,” I said, smiling as I lifted my phone to reply to Cass.

  Jenna rose from her chair and shoved it under the table, catching my foot with the leg.

  I groaned and muffled the very unmanly yelp that had risen in my throat. Seriously, what the fuck had that mailbox been made of? I tapped out a message to Cassidy.

  Send me your address. I’m getting a cab right now. I might need you to fix my foot. I think it’s broken.

  She texted back within a few moments.

  I’m not even going to ask. Are you at home? I’ll come get you.

  Shit. Would she be mad I’d end up going out with my friends instead of calling her? One way to find out. I’d already made a clusterfuck of this night, it couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  No, I met a few friends for a drink after dinner blew up in my face. I’m at Sam’s on LV Blvd.

  Cassidy didn’t reply back as quickly as she had been. Uneasiness started to unfurl in my gut just as my phone vibrated with a new message from her.

  Give me 15.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The guys took my abrupt departure exactly how I thought they would—with name-calling and heckling, none of it with malice. Mike had
winked and raised his glass to me as I’d hobbled out of the bar to wait for Cassidy.

  Christ, my foot hurt. I’d planned on being pathetic so she’d look after me, her nursely instincts taking over her usual prickly nature. But I didn’t need to play anything up because it really fucking hurt.

  Before long, I caught sight of Cassidy’s familiar little car. She pulled up to the curb and I shuffled into the passenger side. Cassidy maneuvered into traffic and shot me a glance out of the corner of her eye.

  “What did you do?” she asked, pointing at my foot.

  Man, she was hot. Her long hair hung in soft curls, framing that face that made my gut tighten. I trailed my eyes down her body, over the sweater that skimmed her luscious curves to her legs, which were nicely showcased by a pair of yoga pants. I’d have preferred the shorts I’d envisioned, but these were pretty fucking nice too.

  “Seth?” Cassidy prompted.

  “What?” I asked, snapping my gaze back up to her face. A man could really get lost in that body.

  “Your foot?”

  “Oh. I kicked a mailbox.”

  “Why?”

  “It looked at me funny.”

  “Of course it did,” she mumbled.

  We were quiet for the rest of the drive. She parked in the garage for an apartment building and got out of the car, not looking to see if I was following her. I did indeed follow, but not as gracefully or as quickly.

  She held the elevator door for me as I hobbled along on my messed-up foot. Cassidy’s lips twitched as though she was trying to keep from laughing. Inside the elevator, I released a huge breath, grateful that the worst was over…for now, at least, and slumped against the mirrored wall.

  A cackle burst from Cassidy’s full lips. “What the hell was that mailbox made of?”

  I sighed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”