Beautiful Deception

by Addison Moore

  Before I can answer, a burly man, familiar dark hair, day-glow smile, jumps me from behind before slapping me five.

  “Ace Waterman.” I shake his hand and pull him in. Ace and I used to row across the lake each morning when we were kids. “You still kicking ass on the water?”

  A sweetly perfumed girl with the face of a china doll pops up behind him. It’s Reese. I recognize her from the day at the cabin last year while trying to pin down who was blackmailing Kennedy. “Kicking ass and taking names. He’s on the rowing team at Yates.”

  “Yates? No kidding. Congrats, dude.” I slap him five. “That’s huge. I’m proud of you, man.”

  “How’s the book?” Ace’s eyes darken, and his brows dip as if calling me on my bullshit. And like magic, Caleb pops up as the music roars to life with a louder, trashier song about bare booties and big tits. I’ve always been a lyrics man. It’s nice to know I’ll be appreciating the fine art of wordsmithery via the millennial generation’s contribution to music. It’s technically Caleb’s shindig by proxy, so it’s nice to know my brother is keeping it classy. I’d tease him, but I wouldn’t want to offend Kennedy. She’s a spitfire, and my future sister-in-law, so I want to keep the peace. Besides, the way Caleb’s been smiling every single day since the day they’ve made it official, I should be penning her a thank you note for pulling him out of his perennial funk—which ironically was due to Kennedy herself. It turns out, Caleb had spent his entire life wishing for the girl. Can’t blame him. Kennedy is a stunner.

  “The book is going great, Ace. Thanks for asking. How’s school?”

  I dig my gaze back into the crowd, winnowing through the blonde Zoey lookalikes to try to find the real deal.

  “School is wrapping up. You’ll see my ugly mug back here on a regular basis. Keep an eye out on the lake in the morning. If you see me out there, join me. You know where I keep the sculls.”

  “That I do. Thanks for the invite. I’ll be there kicking your ass all over that lake.” We bark out a laugh because neither of us thinks that’s possible.

  Reese grimaces a moment. “Can I ask if you’re single?”

  Ace growls at her playfully before chomping down on the side of her face with a cannibalistic kiss.

  “I mean”—she giggles into Caleb—“I have a friend who would love to have coffee with you.”

  “Do people do that?” Ace shakes his head. “Coffee?” he mouths as if it were an expletive.

  “Actually, coffee sounds safe.” It doesn’t sound safe. She might as well have asked if I wanted to drink arsenic. Coffee sounds perfectly satanic at this point. But after Elizabeth, every unassuming task has a toxic potency to it—like writing that damn book for instance.

  “What friend is this?” Kennedy presses into our tiny circle and pulls me into a hearty embrace, her tits smash over my chest, just a casualty of a platonic hug, but nevertheless they make me uneasy, considering my brother’s proximity to their owner. Kennedy holds the strong scent of beer mingling with her sticky sweet perfume. More toxicity and I force a smile to come and go as we part ways. I’m guessing Kennedy would have strongly disliked Elizabeth. She was no sorority girl. She would have frowned at the idea of attending this boisterous gathering, and that thought alone makes me feel smugly self-righteous and damn glad to be here.

  “Brylee.” Reese breaks out into a sinister grin while curling her finger at a blonde not too far away. And horror of all horrors, said blonde bounces over in a pair of hot pink heels, matching vinyl dress, and pouty full lips. If you squint, she could be Zoey’s sister, but there’s a mean streak to Zoey that makes her a little edgier than the bubbling girl before me. “I have someone I’d love to introduce you to.” Reese commands her voice in a singsong manner, and my stomach does a revolution. I’m not big on a setup. I’m hoping my new friend Brylee will find me both old and repulsive because my heart is still bleeding out from its latest adventure in love and relationships—two things I’ve sworn off for the long haul. I’m sure my brand of wounded isn’t something beautiful Brylee is looking for.

  She lands in our ever-growing circle with a spring in her step, her features all the more appealing as she draws in close. “Well, well, who is this?” Her eyes light up like spark plugs. “Let me guess—a long lost McCarthy of the legal branch down in Collingsworth?”

  Every last one of us breaks out into a laugh. It’s hard not to. Caleb and I have been mistaken for twins for as long as I can remember. Solomon not so much, no thanks to the burly hair, the month-long scruff he’s spent a lifetime perfecting.

  “Abel”—I hold my hand out to her—“you hit the McCarthy right on the head.”

  She reels me into a quick embrace. “Well, you’re just like family.” She pulls back, that come-hither look in her eyes already tossing out the invitation. “Are you here on family business?” She glances back to my brother, her hand still very much attached to my own.

  Kennedy bites down on a smile. “He’s writing a book on trashy girls with loose morals. If you play naughty, he might just invite you back to his place for research.”

  The crowd breaks out into laughter once again, and I take this as my cue to free myself from Brylee’s death grip.

  Reese shakes her head. “He’s taking a break and soaking in the sights. He won’t be here long. Just thought it might be fun if the two of you met.” She pins me with a hopeful look. Reese and Ace still have their arms tangled around one another’s bodies. Kennedy and Caleb are their matching bookends.

  “It’s great to meet you, Brylee.” I offer my kindest smile, one that says I’m pretty sure I’m not what you’re looking for.

  I glance back to Gavin, and he slaps me over the shoulder.

  “If you ever want to soak in some real fun, head down to the clearing.” He points just past The Corner Store. “You can help me split wood in the afternoon. There’s nothing that relieves tension better than slamming an ax over a hunk of pine.”

  “It takes a hunk to know one,” Demi hums into his ear while taking a bite out of it.

  “Would you look at this?” a sharp female voice cuts through the jovial atmosphere—Zoey. Her hair fans out like a white mane, her eyes sparkling like cut stones. My heart jumps at the sight of her. She’s that much more cutthroat looking than she was last night, and suddenly my adrenaline is charging as if it has somewhere to go. “It looks like I’m missing the party.” Her eyes widen my way. That open-mouthed cherry smile is working its magic on me whether I want it to or not. It’s clear I’m not in charge of this parade. I’m just some hapless victim of her desires.

  Brylee slips a hand around my waist as if claiming me for her own, gliding in close beside me. “I’m the party, Zoey.” She gives a little wink. “Don’t you forget it.”

  A light chuckle works its way around our group, but I can feel the tension between them, an old rivalry amping up with the claiming of new territory, me. Selfishly it feels like an ego boost to be a part of something so childish. Maybe it only seems childish because Loveless is tagged with so many of my own childhood memories. Maybe this is a newer version of dating that I’m unfamiliar with, and these are the rough undercurrents I’ve been missing out on after a seven-year hiatus.

  “You’re a party, all right.” Zoey gives a dry laugh. “A host to all sorts of venereal diseases. I’d watch your man parts if I were you, Abel. You’re awful close to ground zero.”

  Brylee bubbles out a laugh as she adheres herself to the left side of my body. “Ignore her. Zoey is like my wingman. The more she tries to scare men away from me, the more they’re drawn to the light.”

  “Like a fly to—”

  “Zoey.” Gavin steps in and whispers something into her ear and her demeanor changes on a dime. Gone is the viral hatred toward Brylee as a calmer, curious version of Zoey appears. “Everyone”—Gavin flashes his lightning bolt smile—“Demi and I have an announcement to make.” He holds an arm open, and Demi flutters in like a dove.

  Ace and Caleb step in close,
as do Reese and Kennedy, but Zoey takes a step back, her face bleaching out as if she already suspects the worst. Ironic. Anyone can tell they’re happy as anyone can be. Happier than Elizabeth and I were at the end and quite possibly the beginning.

  Gavin gazes lovingly into Demi’s eyes, his smile ever expanding, and my gut clenches because whatever they’re about to tell us feels monumental.

  “Demi and I are having a baby.”

  Our small crowd breaks out into cheers, but his words sear through my heart like a blade cutting open an old scab that refuses to heal. Just as I’m about to manufacture a smile, a howl, a brief round of applause, I catch Zoey with her face gone white as if she were witness to a murder.

  Brylee screams wild in my ear, embracing and quickly kissing me on the cheek before abandoning her post.

  But my eyes are still on Zoey and that dead gaze of hers. I’d say something, but the crowd is busy mixing around the happy couple, offering up congratulatory embraces, asking all of the appropriate questions.

  “We’re due in October!” Demi’s voice rises from the thicket of bodies crowding her.

  Zoey glances past me. It’s that panicked scanning of the vicinity when you hear a predator in the midst and you are very much the prey. She’s about to bolt, I can tell.

  “October,” I say as I head over. “You’ll be an aunt.”

  “An aunt.” She blinks to life, and the color returns to her cheeks.

  The music changes pace to something slower as couples migrate to the dance floor, spilling out toward the sand with their lazy romantic sways.

  Ace taps me on the elbow. “Let’s catch up sometime. Don’t be a stranger.” He needles me with his dark stare a moment. “There are some things I think we should talk about.”

  He wraps his arm around Reese and heads toward the swaying crowd, but I’m still stuck on his cryptic words. I’m not sure what things Ace and I have to talk about, but I’ll assume they have to do with rowing, his career plan now that he’s in college, and the future—his, not mine. I’m well past that collegiate career plan part of my life, and ironically I’m still second-guessing the future. But I won’t be discussing my past with Ace or anyone else for that matter. I don’t need to talk about it. Hell, I don’t need to think about it.

  I glance to Caleb who hasn’t stopped eyeing me suspiciously since I’ve arrived. That jovial smile he shed moments before has long since dissipated. I nod over to Kennedy. “Get out there with your girl. It’s a nice night. Make it work in your favor.”

  Caleb’s expression sours as he examines me. “Let’s do dinner. I don’t like that you’ve been up here and we’re still hit-and-miss.” That morbid look I’ve sponsored in him lets me know he’s worried. I’ve never been one to wander off to find myself. Even as kids, I was the pragmatic one, with my nose in a book, a goal forever dangling before me like a carrot. And now here I am, the jobless wanderer doing an about-face in life.

  Kennedy pulls him away with a laugh. That was the first thing I noticed about her once they got together last year. Kennedy and Caleb are perennially happy. They’ve been floating along like a couple of helium balloons, growing steadily higher with their elation in one another. A sharp contrast to my dark and bitter heart. That analogy alone makes me want to laugh.

  I spot Zoey downing shots over at the refreshment table and head her way.

  “The music’s right,” I whisper over her shoulder as she knocks another one back. She bites down over a lime and winces.

  “Ken really does go all out.” She hoists a shot up in my direction. “Good news. Your brother didn’t spring for the cheap stuff.”

  “He never does.” I step in front of the bar and make her face me. Zoey’s eyes are like cats, completely committed to doing whatever they want. Even if she’s having a conversation with someone, looking at them seems to be optional. But I don’t need to be gazing deep into her eyes to know that she’s hurting right now. I recognize the invisible fortress she’s built around herself, because I happen to have one wrapped around my own life at the moment. “Come on.” I pick up her hand, and her cool fingers wrap softly over mine. There is something to be said about holding the hand of a beautiful woman. Zoey is like a work of art, fragile and stunning. People would happily pay the admission to gaze at her for hours.

  “I’m not much of a dancer. But then, you should know that by now,” she says as we make our way down the sand, away from the sorority hustle happening at the heart of the dance floor. Her fingers lock over mine, and I can see the smile she shed quickly fading. “In fact, I think I just need another drink.” Her eyes close involuntarily as I wrap my arms around her.

  “In celebration of the great news?” I know otherwise. With some people, you can see the pain in their eyes, but on Zoey you can feel it emanating off her like a heat wave.

  Zoey sighs with her whole body, and I can’t help but study this gorgeous woman in my arms. Only twice before have I felt so instantly connected to another human being. Once in a grocery store, there was a woman doubled over in pain, vomiting in the middle of the frozen foods aisle. I had just recovered from the worst flu of my life—norovirus, which happens to attack at both ends—I helped the manager get her to her car, and I called her husband myself. I figured I was immune to the crap-fest by then. And I remember the ripe humiliation of having to go through that with Elizabeth in the next room. I could imagine how she felt in a crowd thick with onlookers. The other instance was a friend from college. I helped out with his divorce. That was one of the last legally inclined things I did. I got to witness his demise front and center—watch as his ex—also a friend from college—emasculated him so thoroughly. She took the house, the good car, the timeshare, the kids, and more than half the money. To the naked eye it seemed amicable—fair even, but it left my buddy a shell of who he was. Little did he know I was right there with him. When you’re hiding something damning from the world, the shockwaves are less present to those around you. But you still feel them. I’m guessing that’s what’s happening with Zoey.

  “Tell me a secret,” I whisper into her ear as her soft body relaxes over mine. Zoey is not so much dancing as she is supporting herself against me.

  She looks up with those sleepy eyes, moist with tears, bloodshot from a combination of booze, lack of sleep, and heartbreak.

  “You first, hot stuff.” Zoey giggles, and her body strums over mine like a tuning fork. It feels good, like a healing balm, and I almost want to laugh.

  “I’m an open wound.” There. The truth swims out of me like a poltergeist, shrieking as it writhes between us.

  Her brows rise in amusement as she presses her chest to mine—so very soft my boxers twitch to life. “Well then, I suggest you let me heal you.”

  I bark out a laugh without meaning to. “Two open wounds don’t make a right. They make one hell of a mess.” Zoey and I could never heal one another.

  Her mouth falls open. “Presumptuous, aren’t we?” Zoey ceases all movement in one lucid moment as she struggles to examine me.

  “Just calling it like I see it.” I stretch my neck in a moment of piousness. I’m not backing down from this one. The old me would have apologized, made some lame joke about wanting to spread the misery around, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. There’s not a person on the planet I’d want to sip from my bitter cup.

  “Okay, maybe I do think two open wounds can find a little respite in one another.” She’s back to frowning, and even with that discontented look on her face, she could place as Miss America. Zoey is her own odd irony, beauty and the beast, pleasure and pain. “But what’s wrong with fun among friends?” Her hands swivel down my back with promise, and my boxers blink to life once again. “Just something to dirty up the night.” A smile pumps through her as her finger bounces over my lips. “You and me”—she whispers—“we can be one another’s best kept secret.”

  A laugh starts in my chest and dies there. The moon sprays over her features and bleaches them like paper, l
eaving a hot pink mouth, bright eyes that shine like blue topaz. Zoey looks like a hologram. Like the idea of a woman—perfect nonetheless.

  “I’ve got plenty of secrets.” The words expire from me, slow and damning, each one sounding lonelier than the last. My hands fasten themselves over her tiny waist, and I press her to me tight. Both my body and my mouth giving her opposing messages to work with. That’s not like me. I’m composed, levelheaded, in control, and this night, with this woman, I seem to be anything but.

  Zoey hikes up on her tiptoes, her peppermint breath blowing softly over my lips. “I want to be another one—the hottest secret you’ll have to date. Add me to your list, to your bedtime routine.” She gives a little wink, but her affect remains unmoved as stone. “I promise, you will not regret it.”

  The song comes to a close and the music ratchets up again, but my arms are still settled at the base of her hips.

  “You never told me a secret.” I swallow hard because a part of me is already regretting pulling her in that direction. Zoey lives in a fortress of invisible walls, so high they reach the stratosphere. I doubt she’s willing to spill it all at the feet of a virtual stranger.

  “I’ll let you in on the biggest one.” She kisses her finger and touches it to my lips. “I’m a killer.” She turns and drifts into the night, her body evaporating into the darkness as if she had the ability to dematerialize like a ghost.

  An arm falls over my shoulder, full dead weight, and I turn to find Warren by my side.

  “Dude, she is into you. You’re going to get lucky.” He bobs his head matter-of-factly. “And then, just as fast as she whipped into your world, she is going to fly like a bat on fire leaving the depths of hell. It’ll be a short ride but a wild one. Enjoy it.” He pats my shoulder before heading back to the party.

  I can’t help but swallow down a laugh at Warren’s cryptic words. I know Zoey slept with him. I know she tried to sleep with Caleb, too. I’m not delusional. Zoey wants something quick—something to dirty up the nights as she put it.