Under the Lies

by Green, Sarah E.

  “You’re here for answers,” Noah reminds me.

  Right, I nod. My parents owe me answers to the questions that have been burning in my head for two days since I found out my granddad was a thief.

  “You can do this, Sayer,” Noah encourages, offering me his elbow, which I take. Nodding my head again though I don’t believe it myself.

  Since finding out, Noah’s been different around me. More open. But not open enough for me to know where I stand. With him. With his life.

  Where do I go when Harlow is caught and my stalker is dealt with?

  “You okay?” Noah asks.

  I look up at him, realizing I’ve stopped walking, too lost in my thoughts, and nod. “Yeah,” I feel myself say, but not feeling my lips move in the process. “I just don’t want to be here.”

  “We can leave after you talk to them.” His thumb strokes my lower back. “I’m here.”

  But for how long?

  I bite my tongue to keep from asking, instead I nod again, feeling like a bobblehead.

  His words are meant to provide comfort, but they bring a hole to my chest instead. Those blue eyes that penetrate my soul stare at me, knowing something is off.

  But he doesn’t get a chance to call me out on it because someone wraps their arms around me from behind, shouting in my ear, “Happy birthday!”

  I wince at the ringing in my ears, turning around to see Brin’s wide, smiling face before she tackle hugs me. We fall back into Noah, whose hands go to my waist, laughing.

  Over Brin’s shoulder, Thea stands behind her, waving. I break away from Brin and Noah, to hug her. “What’re you two doing here?”

  There’s a high chance my mother invited Brin since our parents are friends, but I know for a fact that she wouldn’t have invited Thea.

  It now makes sense why they never liked the circle Harlow ran around with. Because they all could expose them for the frauds they were.

  Maybe I’m being a little harsh. My dad is a very successful lawyer so I’m sure not all our money is from crime, but there is no doubt in my mind that the people my parents call friends wouldn’t turn their backs on them the second they found out.

  “Noah invited us.” Brin looks over my shoulder at a scowling Noah. Always with the hard faces.

  “You did?” I look up at him.

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised.” He rights his askew glasses.

  Thea giggles. “He doesn’t want you to know he did something nice.”

  “Why?” I ask Noah.

  “It’s your birthday, Sayer. I didn’t want you to not have some friends of your own here.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. It is a big deal though, and he knows that. Which is why he’s watching me, trying to gage my reaction.

  I give him a soft smile, mouthing a quick thank you.

  “Isn’t that adorable?” Brin smiles at him.

  “Totally adorable,” I agree, still watching him.

  “I also invited Reeve and Gabe,” Noah adds as if that takes away from the gesture we’re praising him for.

  “Speaking of…” Thea looks around. “Where are they?”

  Noah shrugs, not particularly bothered.

  “Sayer.”

  My name sounds like a whip lashing in the wind.

  My friends stop talking as I turn around. “Mother.”

  She looks elegant in a form-fitting white dress, but her eyes are thrashing with rage, locking on Noah. Not wanting to create a scene, she briskly walks over to us. “I need to speak to you.”

  Thea and Noah share a look while Brin looks at me in alarm. Kathy Brooks does not sound happy.

  I’m not intimidated. “What a coincidence, Mother. So do I.”

  “Your father is waiting for us in his office.”

  “Perfect,” I say as she turns around, walking and smiling at her guests. The smile says nothing is wrong, but any person who knows anything about body language can see it’s a lie.

  Her shoulders are too far back, her spine uncomfortably straight, and that smile…there has never been a more plastic, overstretched smile in this house.

  I start to follow her with Noah close behind. My mom stops, hearing the extra set of feet following her. Quickly turning around, she looks to Noah. “You’re not coming.”

  He stares at her, hands leisurely in his pockets. Unimpressed.

  “This is a family affair.”

  “Then shouldn’t he be included?” I keep my voice low. “After all, Granddad thought he was his family.”

  My mother is the Queen B of Botox, but even that can’t keep the shock off her face. She turns to Noah. “You told her?”

  He shrugs, continuing to give her nonverbal answers.

  They’re locked in a stare down that gains the interest of some nearby guests, wondering what’s going on, when a man with thinning hair taps Noah on the shoulder.

  At first, it looks like Noah isn’t going to turn around and acknowledge the intruder, but he finally tears his gaze from my mother and whirls around to the man.

  Noah simply raises a brow. There’s so much discontentment in a single movement.

  “Mr. Kincaid. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you.” This brave man doesn’t cower as Noah’s gaze turns darker as if to say you really interrupted me for this?

  Yes, apparently, the man is.

  If looks could burn people, Noah’s would eviscerate him on the spot.

  As the man drones on about some property he wants to acquire, my mother grabs my elbow and yanks me to her side. “Let’s go.”

  Noah whips his head around, hearing her.

  I shake my head, letting him know it’s fine. I can handle this on my own. I’m not fourteen anymore. My parents can’t intimidate me into bending.

  His eyes narrow, not agreeing with me.

  As I let my mother pull me away, Noah tries to follow, but the man with thinning hair is insistent. He actually grabs Noah’s arm to keep him in place.

  I have to give credit where credit is due. The man is ballsy.

  My mother leads us through the house to the end of the hallway where my father’s office is.

  She pushes me inside first.

  My father sits behind his desk, a fat cigar in hand. Waiting.

  I’m inhaling the rich, smoky aroma when the door clicks shut.

  “Have a seat,” my mother instructs, not really giving me a choice as she pushes me farther into the room, into one of the chairs before my father.

  He regards me with quiet eyes and a closed off face.

  “She knows.” My mother walks to my father’s side, resting a dainty hand on his shoulder.

  The frown on his face deepens.

  “You don’t have to pretend I just found out you’re spies or anything.” I cross my legs, fighting calm. “I simply found out my grandfather stole art for a living and was one of the most notorious criminals never to be arrested. Pretty tame things.”

  “Sayer.” My father’s voice is very much like his cigars. Thick and smoky. My name is a scold, a reminder to watch my tone.

  I ignore the warning. “I just want to know why. Why was I kept from knowing?”

  They share a look and it’s quiet in the room.

  I want to shake them. I want the truth, not planned and strategic words. I’m tired of all these mind games.

  “Stop stalling. Just tell me.”

  And after I know, I’m leaving.

  Maybe I’ll even try to salvage my birthday when I go.

  “We made a deal with him. He got Harlow and we got you.”

  I look between them. “What does that mean?”

  “It means.” My father puts his burning cigar on the ashtray. “We got to raise you how we wanted to and we gave Harlow to your grandfather for what he wanted.”

  “You just gave Harlow to him?” That doesn’t make any sense. “She lived with us.”

  “But he was in charge of her.” My mother shrugs like she’s talking about a car service, not her daughter. “Don’t
you remember how he would always come over whenever she got in trouble?”

  Actually, I do. He even cut some of his “business” trips short because of some of Harlow’s incidents.

  “Then why did she live with us?” I push. If they didn’t want my sister, why was she here? Why torture her with living with two people who didn’t love her enough to raise her.

  “For appearance purposes. Think of the scandal if she didn’t live with us. Everyone would think we couldn’t take care of our children.”

  “You couldn’t.”

  My words drop like a bomb, creating a calm that’s unsettling.

  Until my mother speaks.

  “Excuse me?” She speaks slowly, controlled. Holding herself back. She reminds me of when I told her I wanted to quit cheerleading. Frightening made even more so by the frozen muscles of her face.

  “You couldn’t,” I repeat. “I wish you would’ve let Granddad have us both.” Maybe then Harlow and I would’ve gotten along. Instead we were strangers living together, always at odds.

  My mother walks away from my silent father, he’ll let my mother handle this until the very end. When he’ll deliver his closer. She walks until she’s right in front of me, blocking Father from my view.

  Bending at the waist, she makes us eye level. “You should be grateful. We gave you a beautiful life. Don’t be ungrateful like your sister. When your father and I married, we didn’t even want kids. We just had one because we thought we needed one.” She speaks almost clinically. “Harlow, though, we knew right away she would be too much. Take too much time. So we tried again. And we got you. You were perfect. So impressionable.”

  That should hurt or at least, sting. But it doesn’t. Because it makes sense. I always felt more like an accessory for them than a person.

  “You had kids to climb the ranks,” I summarize. “Do you really like this life so much?” Where you’re more fake than real? Where money speaks louder than words?

  Apparently they do.

  “We had you to protect our assets.”

  I start to stand up, hearing enough, but my mom pushes me back down.

  “You wanted someone to protect the money Granddad got from stealing.” There’s irony somewhere in this.

  I scoot the chair back, far enough away to where my mother can’t shove me back down and stand up. We’re eye level now. “Were you never going to tell me the truth?”

  She purses her lips together before shaking her head. No. No, they weren’t. They were going to let me keep living a lie. All because of what?

  “Why?”

  “Because you were ours! I was always afraid to send you to your grandfather’s, afraid one day he’d tell you and have both my girls. He always wanted to teach me, but my mother wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want me to have that life and I didn’t want you to either. We did it to protect you, Sayer.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “You did it for what you said, protecting your assets. It had nothing to do with me. If it did, you would’ve given me a choice.”

  They didn’t give me the option.

  Instead, they did what they always did.

  Decided for me.

  My free will is just that. My own. And I was never given the chance to choose it.

  I think my time is done here. They’re not going to apologize.

  But that’s okay.

  I know now and they can’t take that away from me.

  I turn away going for the door.

  “Where are you going?” my father asks.

  “I’m leaving.” And because I know it’ll piss them off, I add, “With Noah.”

  “He’s using you.” My mother stares at me.

  I know, a tiny voice says, but that’s nothing new. I willingly agreed to that. We’ve used each other. “At least he’s the one that told me the truth.”

  My hand wraps around the door handle, but before I leave, I look over my shoulder. “Why did you even throw me this party?”

  “You’re back home now, Sayer. It was expected.”

  I nod. Right. Of course.

  Leaving the room, I don’t look back.

  And they don’t stop me.

  As I walk down the hall, I tell myself to go find Noah, but when I get back out to where everyone’s mingling, I see him still talking to the man from earlier.

  Noah looks ready to snap the other man’s neck.

  I should save him.

  But I don’t.

  Instead, I decide to clear my head first.

  So with my chin held high, I wander outside, grabbing the first coat I pass on the way, where the noise of the party doesn’t reach.

  I trail along the path I’ve had memorized since I was eight years old when I wanted to escape the frigid temperatures of my house. No matter the time of year, I always found the outside to be warmer than in there.

  Past the pool, the basketball and tennis courts, through the thin line of trees is a little lake that’s always helped clear my thoughts.

  Thankfully my parents have lined the property with little lights in the ground.

  Coming here was a mistake. And the disappointment I’m feeling right now is no one’s fault but my own. Why did I think this would be any different than any other party my mother has thrown for me? They always end up with me feeling more battered than loved.

  How different my life would’ve been if I knew from the beginning. Would I be like Reeve, a forger? Or like my sister, a thief? Or would I still be me, in grad school wanting to save art instead of steal it?

  As weird as it might sound, I’m happy my sister has something she’s good at.

  After growing up and hearing my parents say Harlow would never amount to anything, it’s nice to know that she proved them wrong. Even if it’s with something illegal.

  What my granddad made gave my sister a way to live her life. Gave Noah’s life a purpose when he was lost and looking for his way. I remember hearing about his parents’ plane crash. How he went to go live with his aunt and uncle in New York. They sent him to boarding school with his cousin in England, not consoling a boy in his time of grief.

  He was in England for three years before he came back. His uncle, supposedly, was able to get him access to part of his parents’ trust early, making it so Noah was emancipated by the time he was sixteen.

  What if my granddad was the one that saved him?

  I’m lost in thought, pulling the borrowed coat tighter around me, when I hear voices build against the night.

  “Gabriel! Get your ass back here!” It’s Reeve. And he doesn’t sound happy as I see Gabe briskly walk across the grass in the close distance.

  Reeve stomps after him, his hands running through his hair.

  Gabe doesn’t stop, not until Reeve sets off in a jog and grabs his elbow, twisting him around. They stand so close, almost chest to chest. Though their tones are anything but hushed.

  “What is your fucking problem?” Reeve’s hands are tight on the lapels of Gabe’s jacket. Refusing to let him go. “Why do you always run?”

  Gabe shakes his head. “I can’t keep doing this, Reeve. I can’t.”

  From where I stand, I can see Reeve’s throat constrict. Struggling. His stance screams that he’s on the brink and he’s trying not to break. “Why?”

  One word. One question. And the sadness in his tone has my heart tripping over itself. It sounds so pained, asking around broken glass.

  I’ve never thought of Reeve as an emotionally sound being. He finds humor in darkness.

  Never did I know he could sound so vulnerable.

  My frown pulls at my face as I watch them.

  Gabe’s eyes flick toward me for the briefest of moments and he grabs Reeve, pulling him back in the direction of the pool.

  Reeve and Gabe?

  Pushing them away, I continue the walk to my lake, leaning against the giant oak tree once I’m there.

  But I’m not alone for long.

  A branch snaps causing me to whip my head to the sound.
My heart jumps until I see the culprit. Noah stands in the clearing, hands in his pockets. Watching me with worry.

  “Couldn’t even give me five minutes?” I ask, a small smile touching my face. Thankful that he’s here. Aside from light, he’s the only thing to chase my fears of the dark away.

  “Please,” he says, walking toward me. “I had to get away from Donald Rodgers before I strangled him. He wouldn’t fucking shut up.”

  “It’s not like you would’ve went away for murder. Everyone is in your pocket.”

  “Not everyone,” he says, giving me a pointed look.

  Is he talking about me?

  I don’t get a chance to ask.

  He’s close enough now for his hand to cup my cheek, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. His touch brings a burn to my skin. One that thaws me as I lean into it.

  “Are you going to ask me how it went?” I ask when it’s quiet for too long.

  “No.” His thumb strokes my cheekbone. “I can take a healthy guess, but you’re out here, so that’s enough for me to know not well. This is where you always went when you were overwhelmed back when you were a teenager.”

  I blink up at him in surprise. “You remembered.”

  He smirks, but it’s sweeter than any he’s given me in the past. Less arrogant. “You’re a hard person to forget, Sayer Brooks.”

  I suck in a breath, seeing the emotion behind his glasses, but I’m robbed from saying anything as Noah lowers his mouth to mine.

  A kiss that never comes.

  “Well, isn’t this adorable.”

  We pull apart as someone else joins us.

  My chest feels heavy as I see who it is.

  Stepping out of the trees, with a twisted, nasty look on her face as she takes in me and Noah, is my elusive sister. “My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

  Harlow Brooks.

  The antithesis of Sayer.

  Where Sayer is smiles, Harlow is snarls.

  Where Sayer is timid, Harlow oozes confidence.

  One who bleeds with her heart, the other who drips apathy with her soul.

  Two siblings who couldn’t be more different.

  Wearing her usual all black ensemble, Harlow looks the same as she did when she stole my ledger, except there’s an ugly look twisted on her face as she drinks in my embrace with her sister.