Tell Me True

by Ally Blake

  If April tried such a move, she’d have an instant afro. She ignored her sister instead. Until Erica started going through her mail. Where the Cinderella Project contract lay innocently at the bottom of the pile.

  April launched herself bodily at her sister only she forgot to let go of the mixer. Her shoulder near yanked out of its socket as the cord remained stubbornly plugged in at the wall.

  She squealed in surprise. Prince thought it was a game. Tail wagging, nose twitching, he scrambled out of his depths of his cushion and spotted a globule of semi-mixed batter on the floor between them the same moment April did.

  Swearing ten ways from Sunday, April dropped to the floor so hard her knees screamed in protest but at least she got to the batter before Lactose-Intolerance Boy. While out of the corner of her eye saw Erica casually flipping through the junk at the top of the pile.

  Dammmit. “That’s private.”

  Erica looked at April like she was nuts. “We both came out of the same womb, April. Having shared that no doubt terrifying landscape, we have no secrets.”

  Easily bored, Erica threw the mail back onto the bench and grabbed a wooden spoon and the cupcake bowl and began shovelling batter into her mouth.

  Crisis averted, April dragged herself to her feet and spat a hunk of wavy hair from the edge of her mouth.

  “What’s this I hear about you having a new boyfriend?”

  Crapola! Of course Erica had heard. April had not only given her big sister a room, but had lined her up with a job in the cafe at Halcyon when her travel agent “career” hadn’t “worked out”. Booking her best friend on a second honeymoon cruise for the over seventies crowd instead of a singles sextravaganza hadn’t been a good career move.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why? Is he...” Erica crooked a pinkie finger.

  April smacked it away. “No! I mean I don’t know for sure, but I can say with near certainty he doesn’t have that problem.” After wriggling around on his thigh the other night she was sure of it.

  “Right. So he’s not man enough to get you in the sack quick smart. Talk is he’s super fit, though. Big too. Like the werewolf on True Blood.”

  “The Viking vampire.” She shot back before she could stop herself. “Only darker. And hotter.”

  That bit was absolutely true.

  Erica nodded, mouth turned down – pretending grudging respect. For Erica clearly didn’t believe a word of it.

  April wished she had a photo. It would be kind of nice to shove that in Erica’s disbelieving face. But she’d Googled Finn. Of course. And the guy was a ghost. No Facebook. No Instagram. Not even a small profile on that bastion of the business professional, LinkedIn. April wasn’t all that social media savvy herself, but even she had photos of her “out there”—mostly thanks to her loving sister—that she’d pay good money to get back. If April hadn’t have met Sally and Bob, she’d have been convinced that Finn had given her a fake name. What was that all about?

  Through a mouthful of cupcake batter, Erica asked, “So what does he see in you?”

  Brought back to earth with a thud, April muttered, “No doubt my sparkling personality.”

  Erica’s discriminating gaze trailed over April’s wild hair, and batter-splattered ‘You Can’t Take the Sky Away From Me’ t-shirt. “He must have an excellent flashlight and a really detailed map.”

  “Ha. Ha.” April had spent most of her life at the sharp end of Erica’s tongue.

  It was okay. Really. While April had been shocked when their dad left, Erica had been devastated.

  As Mum’s favourite—or least troublesome at least—lucky April had become an even sharper focus of her mother’s life. And her books.

  Books.

  April casually cleaned up her mail, pretending to sort it into piles. Then she carefully took the Cinderella Project contract and slid it between the pages of a cookbook – Erica would never look there – and casually filed it in the bookshelves under the canted eave by her bedroom door.

  Which was when her front door burst open.

  “Ms. Swanson.” Heaving breath. Wheeze. “I heard a scream. A bang. Strange voices. Is everything alright?”

  Wincing, April turned to find her landlady’s son, Clive, at her door; hand on his knee as he caught his breath, one eye closed in pain, the other trained on Erica as if she was a stain on the landscape.

  “Hey, Clive. I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?”

  Erica’s wide eyes moved slowly from the vision that was Clive to April. A single eyebrow rose in question.

  “Clive, this is my sister, Erica. Erica, meet Clive.”

  Clive kept up the stink eye as he heaved himself upright. There he sucked in his impressive gut, shoved his hands on his hips; classic Wonder Woman pose. Prepared to take down anyone if April asked it of him.

  “Erica’s staying with me for a bit. Isn’t that nice? I was going to see your mum and let her know in the morning.”

  After a few fraught moments, during which Clive clearly felt hard done by that he wasn’t the lucky recipient of April’s couch, Clive nodded. Gave April a look that could only be construed as hopeless adoration. Then quietly closed the door.

  April put a hand on the wall and dropped her head. Surely life needn’t be this complicated.

  “Wow, I never thought you had it in you?” Erica said. “Two men on the go at once. You dawg. Though that dude was less Viking than victim. Supplying different needs, I assume.”

  April’s response was silence.

  “Must be serious if he has a key.”

  April’s shoulders slumped. And, okay, she might have whimpered. “Clive’s mother has a key. She’s the landlady. He looks out for me. Even though I’ve asked him nicely, on multiple occasions, to... not.”

  Erica didn’t even bother to hide her laughter.

  Another reason to pick up the pace on her down payments and get the apartment paid off as soon as humanly possible. First thing she’d do was change her lock. Maybe that would be the final touch to make her sweet little garret feel like home.

  She looked to the door, finding Clive had actually left it slightly ajar.

  Mmm. She and Mrs. Parsons had a fantastic relationship and April had never been worried about the handshake deal. But, what with the way her year had begun, perhaps she ought to talk to a professional about making the arrangement a tad more formal. Her bank? As a single woman with a modest income living in Sydney, a loan would be out of the question. Maybe an investment advisor was the way to go.

  Only one person she knew who worked in that field.

  Finn.

  A thrill shot through her – quick and hot. Followed by the sludgy, cooling ooze of trepidation.

  No. She’d find another way. For one thing, she’d have to tell him about the “fake boyfriend” situation. The several long moments in which she argued with herself as to whether not telling him was really lying so much as saving him from the angst of knowing were not her finest. The effort of keeping up such a ruse had to cause some kind of internal damage. Her dad suffered from stomach ulcers. Just saying.

  For another, after her Google fiasco, she had no clue how to track him down.

  “Now,” Erica said, sliding from the kitchen bench and cutting into April’s thoughts, “do you have plans with any of your multitude of lovers on Saturday?”

  “Nothing planned as yet.” It was disconcerting how easily she was getting the hang of the “skirting the edge of truth” thing.

  “Excellent. Then you can do me a favour.”

  Erica smiled, though there was no humour in her eyes. April wished she knew how to put some there. Erica might be the toughest woman April knew, Erica might tease April mercilessly and take advantage of her good graces whenever possible, but it was only because Erica had been so hurt. Right down to the core.

  So April gave the response she always did the rare times her only sister reached out.

  “What do you need?”

&nb
sp; Late the next morning Finn’s cell phone rang. He motioned the café waiter for the bill for his office for the morning – a table with a stunning Harbour view. Then he answered, “Ward.”

  “Need to patch a call through.”

  It was one of the wall of women who manned Hamilton’s reception and kept the business humming. Joan? Jenny? The one who quibbled about having to field his calls since he refused to have an assistant.

  “Can it wait?”

  “She was insistent.” Joan/Jenny allowed. “Promised to only take up a second of your time. Told me her life story first, mind you. Says she needs investment advice. Claims you’re friends.” A pause, then, “That you met when she tried to pick you up in a bar.”

  Joan/Jenny was clearly enjoying herself.

  While Finn’s breath lodged in his throat.

  It couldn’t be. Putting aside the fact that anytime he’d caught sight of someone with a hint of auburn in their hair his pulse had raced like a wild brumby, he would have sworn black and blue he’d not given April his number. Not when he’d put in such effort to make a clean break. “April Swanson?”

  “That’s the one.” Joan/Jenny’s curiosity was palpable. “Shall I patch her through?”

  Only then did it hit him. April hadn’t called him, she’d called Hamilton Holdings. If April had put two and two together and come up with Hazel, she wasn’t going to take it lightly. If nothing else, she deserved an explanation.

  “Put her through.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Finn pictured the salute that no doubt went with it. “Thanks, Jackie.” Jackie, that was it.

  A sigh. “You’re welcome, Finn.”

  He breathed into the silence, waited for the click. “April.”

  “Finn. Hi.”

  The sweet, husky spark of her voice did things to him. Warm, enlivening things. Right down deep inside. He dug his nails into the soft bit of his palm.

  “Um, you’re probably wondering how I got your number.”

  He was at that.

  “Turns out your friend Sally gave it to Smith the other night. Seemed they were in cahoots.”

  Finn ran a hand over his mouth. Of course they were.

  “Best we trust neither of them with the launch codes.” A breath was taken. “And I’m babbling. The reason I called – it’s not about the other night... I have some questions about an investment and having racked my brains to find another avenue, you’re the only person I could think to ask. I’m calling that you might be open to giving me some advice. I’ll pay, of course. All business. No pleasure.”

  In the beat that slunk by, Finn imagined the colour pouring into her cheeks as the word pleasure hung between them like forbidden fruit.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Happy to help.”

  Was he? Truth was, hearing her voice took the edge off. Settled him somehow. Made the sense that he was working to tie up loose ends rather than working to work feel less brutal.

  “Really?” She sounded as surprised as he felt. “That’s... Thank you! I’d wondered if maybe... Anyway. Awesome. Great. Half an hour is all I need. I can meet you at your office. Or after work. Whatever suits you.”

  The waiter returned with the bill, Finn withheld his card and motioned for the guy to stick about for a moment.

  The second he’d heard April’s voice the Hazel connection had flown out of his head. But unless she planned to vilify him in person, it seemed she hadn’t made the leap from Hazel to Hamilton Holdings – and thus to him – after all. No point rocking that boat. He was undertaking the task of untying knots, not creating new ones.

  “Do you know The View on Circular Quay?”

  “I can find it.”

  “I’m there right now.”

  He heard papers swishing. What sounded like a chair wheel squeaking. “Awesome! I’ll be there ASAP.”

  “See you soon.”

  Finn slid his thumb over the red button to hang up the call and to the waiter, said, “Change of plan. Sticking around for second lunch.”

  “Yes, sir,” the waiter said, sliding the bill into his palm. “Another drink?”

  “Double espresso,” Finn said, knowing he’d need the fortification.

  A half hour—and two espressos—later April bustled into the cafe carrying a box under her arm.

  She stood out from the hip, beige crowd in her red flannel shirt and tight, black jeans like a sole poppy in a barren field. She ran a hand over the hair escaping from some kind of twisty up thing, and pressed her lips together as her bright eyes scanned the room.

  When she found him her fidgets stopped. She propped up onto her toes and waved. A smile burst onto her face before she shut it down. Remembering belatedly this time their meeting was “all business”. Not pleasure.

  That kiss was epic. You weren’t pretending anymore than I was.

  Finn shook his head to clear the image of her wide, pink mouth saying those words. What did it matter that the kiss had been epic, he was pretending about the rest. He was seeing her here, now, so as not to blow Hazel’s cover. That simple. Hadn’t stopped her narrating his dreams.

  Finn stood as April wriggled through the tightly-packed tables until she reached his. Always smaller than he remembered – the top of her head hit the top of his shoulder – her energy still saturated the air around her.

  Finn had his hands in his pockets. Took them out. Moved as if to shake her hand. Which felt foolish, to be frank. So he did what felt right.

  He leaned in and took her by the arm. Her eyes widened a fraction as he closed in before fluttering closed, her lashes sweeping south before he bussed her soft cheek with a kiss. She shifted the box out of the way, curling in toward him. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, infused him like a potion, hitting highs the caffeine hadn’t come close to reaching.

  When they pulled apart her cheeks were the prettiest pink.

  All business. His subconscious ribbed him even while his heart thumped in his chest.

  Needing space, he moved away, held out her chair. She took it, folding into the metal contraption as though her legs were relieved not to have to hold her up a second longer.

  He pressed a menu her way.

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t. I’m too wired.” Her eyes skittered about the cafe, not landing on anything in particular. “But you get something!”

  “I’ve eaten.”

  “Oh.”

  “So,” he said, scraping back his own chair to give himself some breathing space. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Not pleasure. Business.

  “Right, to the point. Good idea. I have to be back at work ASAP anyway. Traffic was crazy. And...” Her face fell before it sank into her palms.

  Finn sat forward, his chair scraping against the concrete floor. “April?”

  Through her fingers her voice was muffled. But he caught, “If I don’t get something off my chest I’m going to burst.”

  Finn curled his reaching fingers back into his palm. “Yet another confession?”

  At the wry tone of his voice, she looked at him through splayed fingers. “You’re mocking me.”

  “Not at all. My breath is bated. I am all ears.”

  She let her fingers drop and looked at him, dead on.

  Challenge glinted in the grey depths of her eyes. “Okay. Here goes. Everyone at work thinks you’re my boyfriend.”

  Finn let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

  “Word got out about our...” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Stayed a beat before she dragged it back to his eyes. “About the other night. And now the entire place is abuzz with news of the big, hot urban-Viking in my life.” She took a breath. Then smiled. “I actually wasn’t sure whether or not I was going to even tell you, but it feels so much better to get that out.”

  “Better for who?”

  She held up two hands in surrender. “Interest will die down in a day or two – the moment someone in the office announces they’re p
regnant or ate sugar. Unless, of course, you’d prefer for me to gather everyone today and tell them in no uncertain terms that it was all a big misunderstanding. Because if that’s what you want, I will do it.”

  Finn had thought his life dramatic enough before meeting April, but he’d had no idea. He pictured April – hands wringing, pulse beating erratically in her throat as she stood in front of her peers and tried to undo the mess he’d made – and shook his head.

  She breathed out hard. Then looked at him with one eye scrunched shut. “Are you mad?”

  “At what?”

  “Me.”

  Discombobulated, discomposed and – he feared – completely snowed. But mad? Not a bit.

  “You’re sure it’ll work itself out,” he said, feigning lament, knowing she wouldn’t let it drop otherwise.

  “Cross my heart.”

  Clearly feeling better about things now her latest confession was off her shoulders, she tapped her fingers on the table – rat-a-tat-tat. “Now, back to why I’m really here. I told you about the promotion, didn’t I?”

  “You did.” Right before you kissed me. Finn shifted in his seat.

  “There’s also an investment involved that rides on my getting the promotion. Or making more money somehow, at least. And I can’t dance to save my life so stripping’s out of the question.”

  Sweat prickled the back of Finn’s neck. “The exotic dancing industry must be sighing with relief.”

  April’s eyes sparkled like silver dollars as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “You have no idea. Erica – my sister – conned me into taking a pole dancing class with her once. The instructor said she had real talent. As for me, he didn’t know human limbs could actually work so independently of one another.”

  Finn squeezed the soft part of his hand in an effort to distract the images playing through his head.

  “Anyway.” April flapped her hands in front of her face, then thankfully moved onto the far more dry subject of the history of her apartment. She was so animated in the telling it was practically an interpretive dance of its own – arms flailing, shoulder wriggling, constantly tucking wayward locks of hair behind her ear.