Loving the White Liar (2 page)

“Miss!”

For the love of Christ.

“Miss!”

Seriously, how much would they tip on a twenty-dollar tab?

“Miss!”

I was the worst waitress ever.

“Miss!”

“I’ll be right with you!” I shrieked, desperately pleading for just a minute of peace. I’d already visited that table no less than ten times in twenty minutes. They’d ordered grilled chicken salads. How high maintenance could that possibly be?

“Can we get more ranch?”

I looked down at the sea of ranch in her bowl that swallowed the sparse amount of green and sighed. Reluctantly heading to the kitchen, I grabbed the dressing, noting my best friend Gerri sitting on the counter glaring at her tip count. Gerri was short for Geraldine, a name she cursed her parents for repeatedly over the years.

“There really has to be more to life than this shit,” I said with a scowl as I opened the fridge, filling two cups of ranch and seeing through the double doors that the annoying patrons at my table were pushing their plates away. They’d never needed more of anything, except
someone
to order around. Those types of tables made it hard for me to maintain faith in the human race.

Gerri eyed me with slight fear. “I’m not going to make rent again. Might as well hit the bar.”

“No.” I shook my head as I walked past her. “No.” I gave her a sharp look before bursting through the double doors, check in hand, and the requested ranch.

“We don’t need it now,” one of the girls snapped, taking her ticket as I thanked them and walked away.

Ah, so she wanted to justify giving me a shitty tip. Nothing new.

“Leave a dollar, at least,” the other, more personable woman at the table scorned.

“You know I won’t. I don’t
do
charity.” I froze at the waitress stand when I heard those words. It took everything I had not to walk over to bitch slap the woman and shake out her three hundred dollar
Coach
purse for my
charitable contribution
.

When the women got up, I walked by and smiled right at them. “I hope you both choke on a nice day!”

They smiled back in fake reply, neither of them catching my sarcasm, while I began to bus their table.

Ralphie, the sixteen-year-old busboy, shooed me away. “I’ve got this, Miss. Go on.”

“Don’t call me Miss. It makes me feel old,” I scolded gently.

“You are ten years older than me.” He winked as he pulled the empty glasses out of my hand. Totally stunned, I stared after him as he continued his task.

And
that
was the moment that time stopped for me.

Actually, I was eleven years older than he was, and I’d been waitressing at the same place for four years. It was supposed to have been temporary, and I’d only been twenty-three the day I took the job. I was supposed to be figuring out what to do with my life and instead I’d ended up at Grady’s Grill as a permanent fixture.

Oh my God.

Looking up at the rusted but working clock over the checkout counter, I noted the time.

Don’t do anything crazy, Hilary. Ten minutes...just ten minutes and you’re off.

Bursting through the double swinging doors leading into the kitchen, I looked at Gerri as my face paled.

“Oh, God, you didn’t make rent, either. We’re screwed.” Her shoulders slumped as I walked up to her, pulling all the cash out of her hand.

“I have rent. I save my tips. And you still owe me for last month. Get it together,” I snapped as she gave me the evil eye.

“So what the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, following me to the dish room where I began to stack glasses.

“I’ve been working here too long. I have to get out of here now.”

Gerri suddenly looked panicked, and deep down I knew it was because she believed me. When I set my mind to something, I stuck to it. I’d stayed true to that my entire life, except for when it came to a career choice. I couldn’t commit. I’d gone to school to be a nurse and dropped out as soon as I saw what installing a catheter entailed. I would never look at a flaccid penis the same. I’d changed my major to business and got so bored I started the bad habit of online shopping and damn near flunked out while maxing out my credit cards. By my junior year, I had a hundred and ninety-seven credits and not enough classes taken for either degree so I decided to join the workforce for a while until I figured out my next step.

That was four years ago.

I’d been swallowed by the black hole of indecision and now I’d lost the entirety of my twenties to it. Looking up at the safety reflective mirror above the double doors, I saw Flo from the TV LAND sitcom
Mel’s Diner
looking back at me and let out a shriek.

“Oh my GOD!”

Gerri very calmly walked up to me and put her hands on my shoulders. Her short, spiky brown hair was a scattered mess, and I couldn’t help but think she was adorable as she tried to comfort me. Gerri could only be described as cute. She was petite and had the most animated features on a girl I’d ever seen. Her eyes were huge, but still beautiful, and a bright blue. She’d been my best friend for nearly three years and my roommate for two. I wasn’t a fan of too many girls, but I loved her spontaneity. She was a spur of the moment kind of gal. No, seriously, her last suggestion was that we make the nearly twenty-four hour drive to Las Vegas and spend the day gambling to pay for the trip. I’d actually been bored and desperate enough to believe it a possibility, until we only had twenty dollars left. We were starving and had no gas money left to get home. It was still one of the most exciting things I’d ever done. Even though I still gave her shit for it, secretly I thanked her.

How we got home was another story entirely.

She was always the life of the party, and only took responsibility for being irresponsible.

“Okay, before you freak out, just hear me out,” she said, demanding my attention.

“Too late!” My panic began to rise as I thought of the years I’d wasted pacing this diner with food instead of finding my niche.

“We should go to Mike’s, have a few beers, shoot some pool,” Gerri said seriously, as if our everyday routine would make things better.

“I’m trying to break away from the norm, Gerri,” I said, shaking my head, “not institutionalize myself!” I was yelling now as Joe, the main cook and my boss, rounded the corner.

“Your yapping is giving me a headache,” he mouthed smartly as he eyed me warily. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m putting in my two weeks,” I said without thinking.

His eyes widened and he turned his head to the side in his ‘What you talkin’ ’bout, Willis?’ move. Okay, apparently I watched too much TV LAND. He put his hands on his hips in an attempt to show authority and I nearly laughed, mocking him. Joe seemed like a hardass, but deep down he was a teddy bear. His northern accent was rough, but his eyes were always kind.

“Are you going to give me a reason for leaving?”

“I don’t want to be your Flo, Mel.” He furrowed his brows, making me laugh. Was I the only one who watched old reruns?

“I need to do something else. Nothing against you or this place—Ow.” I jerked my arm away as Gerri pinched it with wide eyes that begged me to keep my mouth shut.

“Don’t you think you should find a job first?!” she scolded as I gave her my attention.

“I just gave myself two weeks of motivation,” I whispered back in a way that let her know she should back off.

Joe stood for only a moment before his eyes softened more than usual. “We’ve always got room for you here, Hilary, if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Joe,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. He stared at my hand as if it was covered in shit before I removed it. The man was a mystery, and would have to remain that way. I wasn’t sticking around to figure him out.

I was moving on to greener pastures, and would soon have another mystery on my hands. Maybe this one would be worth solving, and hopefully liked to watch old episodes of
Different Strokes
and thought Jr. Mints were God’s gift to humanity. And maybe this mystery could sport a large penis and have a skilled tongue, dark hair, maybe...or light. And he had to have sisters—I couldn’t handle any more mama’s boys—aka only-child men. Screw that shit. Also if he could—

“That was stupid!” Gerri said, jerking me out of my dream man wish list. “Now you have no job.”

I untied my apron then slammed it on the metal counter. “I can’t believe
you
, the queen of ‘I’m short on every bill we have this month,’ is lecturing me. Shut up. I’ve got this.”

And even though my legs were shaking along with my voice, I pressed once again through those double doors, which only fueled me more. I was scared to leave my waitressing job and
that
was all the motivation I needed.

Okay, you have two more laps; you can do this.

I circled my apartment complex’s community pool, my limbs burning in protest as I pushed as hard as I could. Spending the entirety of late spring into summer after my shifts taking out my frustration in the water, I had lost a few pounds and was proud of my new endurance. It took my mind off the ever present gnaw in my chest from my last breakup and helped to keep me exhausted and at home, instead of spending my money out with Gerri. The most I was up for these days was a stale beer and a round of pool after my shift.

“You really love her?”

“Yes.”

Remembering Sean’s words helped propel me through the last few laps. Our year together had been over for almost the same length of time, yet I was still reliving it. I knew it was because I hadn’t given anyone else half a chance. I wasn’t jaded. He’d ended it before he had a chance to cheat. I could feel him growing distant in the last few months of our relationship. I knew it was coming, but I’d ignored the signs and didn’t do a damn thing to save it, or say a damn word to persuade him otherwise. There was no point.

Two tears in a bucket, fuck it.

If a man wanted to be with me, he damn sure better make me believe I was the only woman that existed, not his runner up.

So, as much as I wanted to believe I was still hurting over Sean, in truth, I was just bored. Pulling myself up to sit on the side of the pool, I let my feet dangle in the water, making circles while I fought to get my breath under control.

I had bigger issues than my lackluster love life. I had exactly two weeks to find a new job, and that was part of the problem. I wanted a career, not another escape from the never-ending question of where I fit in the grand scheme. But the more I thought about it, the more I came up empty.

I decided to look up some possible career choices on the web. I mean, that’s
why
God invented Google.

Making my way toward my towel on one of the empty lounge chairs, I heard the pool gate open. I looked up simply because for the last hour I’d been completely alone with my thoughts and the water.

“Holeeee shit,” I muttered under my breath as I turned away from the interloper, making sure my suit was covering all the right places. I’d seen more than one or two hot guys grace the pool.

Gerri and I had moved into this complex specifically because it catered to young twenty-something’s. We lived on the outskirts of Spartanburg, South Carolina, which housed five colleges. The city sat right on the border of North and South Carolina, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountain range. I had grown up an hour closer to Columbia, but had ended up here for school. It was a decent enough city. Well, for a college kid.

It seemed an ideal place to live at first, but as of a year ago, I was over it once it proved to be just another ragged out college complex with too many alcohol induced parties and way too much visitor traffic. Unfortunately, Gerri insisted we finish out our lease.

Braving another glance over at the eye candy who took a seat in a lounge chair with his iPod in hand, I eyed him as he looked down, shuffling through his music. He glanced up at me then gave me a wink before putting the buds in his ears and closing his eyes.

I threw on my cover up and walked past him, relieved that I wouldn’t be forced to make small talk. What I did do was take in his tanned, toned legs, his hard and slightly ripped stomach, and pronounced pecs that covered an insanely broad chest. He was sweating already from the unforgiving sun and when my eyes drifted from his sculpted chin to his long fanned eyelashes, I damn near hit the edge of his chair as I walked past. His dark brown hair was an unruly mess and stuck up at all angles. It was thick and sexy as hell, and just long enough to run my hands through. He had a full sleeve of ink on his right arm. It was colorful and filled with musical notes and what looked like song lyrics. He moved his head slightly back and forth and I couldn’t peel my eyes away even after I passed his chair.

He probably dated girls with a contingency and told them flat out that it would just be for fun, nothing serious, no strings. And he probably got away with it often.

And
that
type of guy was most definitely not my type.

That’s all I ever heard any more about dating.

“He’s not looking for anything serious,”
or,
“I want to have fun but no more than that.”

These phrases seemed to be the motto of my generation of cowards. No one wanted to risk getting hurt. Or even worse, experience the feeling of rejection. Men and women of my age seemed to think it was a sign of weakness to admit to wanting more than casual sex.

Not me, I wanted to experience it all. I’d loved hard before and lost big, and it hadn’t killed me. It hurt, like it was supposed to. It also made me a junkie for more.

I loved the idea of falling hard for someone who could finish my sentences or finding a soul mate. I’d dated a ton over the last ten years and actually found it helpful instead of discouraging. I may have no idea what I wanted career wise, but I damn sure knew what I wanted in a man.

My expectations weren’t impossible to meet, either. But what I did know is I wanted that feeling again. And I knew someday I would have it. I’d given myself a break over the last year, only taking one walk of shame. It was a result of drunken sex, which is always great at the time, but a false memory in the morning. Looking at Mr. Sex with the iPod somehow made my situation seem hopeless. I wondered if all the men I was attracted to were casual play only.

If I was the last of the romantics of my generation, where could I possibly find my match? Were there any guys out there looking to do more than hook up with a random girl to get off? I was all for sexual gratification, but once I learned what sex
and
love felt like hand in hand, there was no going back.

Opening the gate, I heard the splash behind me, and though I didn’t want to look, I had to. This man was gorgeous. His arms waded through the water so gracefully that I stood motionless and dripping with my towel surrounding me. When he ended his lap at the other side of the pool and surfaced for air, his eyes found mine and I practically ran away, embarrassed I’d been busted. I did catch his sideways, curious glance and small smile before I bolted.

Walking back into my apartment, I closed the door, leaning with my hands splayed flat against it like I had just outrun a predator.

What the hell was that, Hilary? Oh, girl, you need to get laid.

I had always considered myself a pretty confident woman. Good looking guys with hot bodies had never intimidated me much before. I’d even had one or two between my legs. Apparently, I was getting rusty. And even as I thought about it, I knew it would take a back seat on my priority list.

Feeling the AC kick on, I hightailed it into the shower to get warm. Gerri, being the most considerate roommate in the world, barged in just as my shoulders relaxed under the scorching water.

“Let’s go to Mike’s.”

“No,” I said sharply as I listened to her rummaging through the drawers.

“One beer.”

“NO!” I barked. “I have work to do.”

“Like what?” she protested, shutting the toilet lid and planting herself on our shared throne.

“Look, I’m tired. I just need to think about my next move. Not tonight, okay?” I peeked out of the shower to see her fully dressed and in fresh makeup. She was sure I would agree.

“Take a twenty out of my wallet and go.”

She jumped off the toilet and clapped her hands. “I should’ve known you only wanted me for my money.”

“It’s not that. I’m...It’s...”

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s Mike and I’m going to remind you for the hundredth time, he’s got a girlfriend, whom he loves.”

Gerri gave me the same exasperation she always did when I nailed her with the truth.

“He will be mine.” She walked out of the bathroom, head held high as I shut the curtain, resuming my task. Gerri was a romantic in her own right. We’d been frequenting Mike’s for eight months due to her infatuation with him. She seemed to think it was kismet we stumbled into his bar. She’d been completely single focused in her pursuit of him, and faithful to boot. She hadn’t had a single man to our apartment since she declared her love. Unfortunately, the fascination seemed one sided. She was a glutton for the reminder, choosing to spend her tips sitting across from him almost every night. I envied her in a way and had hoped on more than one occasion she would get her wish.

My phone buzzed on my bed as I threw on my nightclothes. It was a group text from my mother to me and my siblings.

Mom: Brunch Sunday. No excuses, I want my kids under one roof. If you don’t come, we will carpool until every last one of you is picked up. Bradley PLEASE leave your girlfriend at home. I can’t stand her.

Me: I’ll be there early, Mom, to help out. Tell me what to bring.

I burst out laughing as my siblings replies came in.

Brad: She’s in New York for a shoot. And why don’t you like her?

Sabrina: I have church.

That was the worst excuse imaginable. The last I’d heard she was a practicing Wiccan.

Alexis: Hilary you are such a kiss ass. I’ll bring champagne and OJ.

Sabrina: Ohhhhh mimosa’s. I’ll go to the late service.

Alexis: Nothing shows more devotion than showing up to worship the master of creation with a buzz.

Sabrina: Jesus did turn water into wine.

Alexis: Point taken. Hilary, bring my damned heels back. It’s been six months.

The next notice was:
Brad has left the conversation.

I laughed out loud. My brother, God bless him, knew when to bail. This group text could very well last the better part of an hour and he spared himself from his four older sisters’ ramblings. As the baby of the family, he’d grown up in the torturous household filled with teenage girls. He had been a late surprise for my mother, who had assumed she was done bearing children, until he popped up on her thirty-ninth birthday. I adored Brad and had doted on him his entire life. He was the spitting image of my father and looked more and more like him as he aged.

And, of course, Molly was the last to answer.

Molly: Ok :)

Sweet Molly was an anomaly in the family. While the rest of us were full of dark, snarky sarcasm, Molly was a completely good-natured, glass half-full kind of girl. So naturally, we used it against her, claiming she was a product of Mom’s onetime affair with the mailman. It didn’t help she was the only one of us with blonde hair.

I missed her. We were closest in age and she was off at Clemson finishing her degree.

Hilary: Miss you, Molly.

My mother was probably monitoring like she always did. She was the type to sit back as the girls shoveled their way into inappropriate behavior then would strike later at the most opportune time. I threw my phone on the bed, catching my appearance in my floor length mirror. My long, dark auburn hair was still damp. I let my eyes wander over my naked body. It was an improvement from the quick cover up I used to do a few months ago to avoid looking at myself. My thighs were still a little too thick up top, and although my muffin top was dwindling, I still had a good amount of pudge in my midsection. My chest was far smaller than average and if that wasn’t enough of an insult, my left boob was almost a half a cup smaller than my right.