More Than Lies (9 page)

Matt is passed out in the recliner next to the couch. I guess the game wasn’t that happening if they couldn’t remain awake through it.

I pass through, making my way toward the kitchen where I hear noise. As I near the entryway door, the smell of seafood penetrates my nose. I smile big. I’d know that smell anywhere.

Cioppino!

It’s my favorite meal. It’s a seafood soup of flavorful goodness.

I lean against the doorframe and take in the view in front of me. I only have seconds before she realizes I’m here. Tara’s blonde hair is pulled back into a messy whatever chicks call it when they have the hair piled on top of their head. She’s wearing a loose black t-shirt and white shorts, standing in front of the stove. Once my eyes land on her thighs I can’t see anything else.

Shit.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now. I’ve known her practically my whole life. We grew up together. Tara is so ingrained into my own family that the guest bedroom inside my parents’ home was designated hers years ago. My grandparents only use it maybe once or twice a year when visiting. Any other time it’s Tara’s and I’m pretty certain she even has clothes and shit at my parents’ home the same as Shane and I do.

I force myself to stop imagining something that will never happen.

But God, the image of those beautiful legs wrapped around me is something though. Something I need to stop thinking about.

Pushing myself off the doorframe, I walk closer in her direction until I’m standing directly behind her. She doesn’t know I’m here yet, so when she steps back, stepping into me, she practically jumps out of her skin and screams.

“Freak!” She huffs a large breath of air out of her lungs as she turns to look at me. “You suck.”

“Will you say, ‘fuck’ for me? Just once.” Tara rarely cusses. When she does it’s either because she is thoroughly pissed or extremely excited. It may also be really cute when she does it. “Please. It’s just a four letter word.”

She quickly turns her head, but not before I see the pink in her cheeks from the blush I’ve caused.

Success.

“Go away, I’m trying to finish dinner.”

“I know, I could smell it from the other room.” It smells divine. “What did I do to earn my favorite meal?”

“What makes you think I cooked this for you?” Tara points to the tall stainless steel pot on the stove before eyeing me. “It happens to be my favorite meal, as well. Just as chocolate cake is my favorite dessert.” She lifts her index finger to point to the table.

Holy smoke, tonight is going to be wonderful and I am going to fall into my bed a fat and happy man. I will definitely need to spend extra time at the gym tomorrow.

“Shit people, others are trying to sleep in this place.” We turn to see Matt walking into the kitchen. He goes directly to the refrigerator and pulls out a clear bottle of golden beer.

“Grab me one of those, would ya?” I call out before he slams the door closed. Tonight couldn’t get more perfect. Beer and a great meal will surely only relax me further.

“When do we eat, I’m starving?” Matt directs his question to Tara as he hands me a beer.

“Never, if you come in here with that attitude.” She turns back to the stove and stirs in what looks to be shrimp. That tells me we are minutes away from dinner so I head over to the sink to wash my hands.

“It was just a fucking question, Taralynn.” I hear him sigh in frustration. I don’t know why, but he and Tara have been off for some time now. “Can you please let whatever’s crawled up your ass lately, out?”

I’m not getting into the middle of their shit so I towel off the water on my hands and open my beer. The first sip is always the best. Cold, refreshing and smooth as it flows into my mouth and down my throat.

Her back is to Matt, but her profile is in front of me. Tara’s jaw locks, but she just looks forward without saying a word.

“Go get Mase up, would ya?” I look to Matt. “She is almost done so we will be eating in a few.”

He nods before tipping his glass bottle up and taking a sip, and then walks off in the direction toward the living room.

“Drama going on in bff-land?” I lean against the counter top in front of the sink waiting for her reply.

“Hell if I know,” she breaths. “You’d have to ask him that question,” Tara grabs a mitten from the drawer next to the stove and puts it on, opens the oven and removes what I know is fresh made French bread. It’s no surprise. Tara makes bread about once a week.

We may have it made around here.

“Will you grab the bowls while I slice and butter the bread?” She turns to face me after getting the bread knife out of the knife block.

“Well I’m not going to say no while you’re holding that thing.” I joke as I push off, twisting to my right to get the bowls as requested. Once I have four in my hand I place them on the counter next to the stove. I go ahead and grab four spoons from the silverware drawer, as well, and place them next to the bowls.

Mason and Matt walk into the kitchen. Mason rubs his palm over his short hair and then down his face to wake up.

“How’s your back feeling?” I ask him. He looks in my direction and then heads to the fridge.

“Nothing more than a dull ache. I downed two packs of powdered aspirin when I got home.” He retrieves a beer of his own, twists the cap off and tips it up to his lips.

“Shit, dude that’s over sixteen hundred milligrams.” I laugh out. Damn, the pain isn’t that bad. Fucking pansy ass little bitch. Normally I’d call him on that shit, but I’m not in the mood. I want an easy rest of the night. I want to enjoy a delicious meal and kick back with my friends.

“Exactly, which is why I’m not hurting.”

“Let’s eat, guys.” Tara calls out and I’m first in line. You don’t have to tell me twice.

I scoop out a hearty bowl of seafood goodness and grab a piece of hot bread before walking over to the table. My friends do the same. Tara is the always the last to fix her plate and the last to sit down to eat.

As soon as her ass hits the cushioned seat of the chair, I raise my spoon to my lips anticipating the contents that are about to slide down my throat. Before I taste victory I feel a swift kick in the shin.

“Motherfucker.” I turn to look at Tara staring at me. She rolls her eyes.

“Mase, you’re up for grace this week.” She looks back in my direction while shaking her head and cutting her sapphire eyes.

Don’t women know not to come between a man and his dinner?

I set my spoon down, lace my finger and look down.

“Thank ya, Jesus. Now, let’s dig in.” Mason laughs at his short, but sweet praise. Now don’t go taking that as an insult to the Lord. We are all God loving people. May not show up to church often, but we love and respect the guy.

The first spoonful of my soup is always the best. Sometimes I wonder how I stay in such good shape when I have Tara as a roommate. The bitch can cook and she feeds us well. I’m not calling her a bitch as an insult. It’s just a guy term; you should probably get used to it now, rather than fault me later.

I don’t make it to my second spoon because the ringing of the doorbell interrupts us. Irritation is automatic.

My house is full of life on the weekends, but Sunday through Wednesday’s are off limits to most everyone. This is a known fact. Wednesday’s especially because we have designated it family night, and by family I mean the four individuals that live in this house. Are they my family? No, they aren’t in the traditional way, but we all grew up together. Mason is damn near as close to a brother to me as my own brother, Shane, is.

Tara grits her teeth due to her own irritation. This is actually her rule. She doesn’t ask for much, but when we all moved in, she suggested family dinner night and no interruptions or outsiders. I liked the idea. It wasn’t until a year after that we added a Sunday night dinner as well.

Her chair skids backwards. Tara rises and walks off to answer the front door.

“Hey,” I call out. “Unless the motherfucker is related to one of us, kick the bastard in the dick.” I go back to spooning more Cioppino into my mouth. Next I tear off a piece of bread with my teeth and chew.

Moments later I hear a shirking voice that I had never planned to hear again.

I look up to see the bitch I screwed last Saturday night outside of Level. What the fuck is this shit?

“Hey, you,” she coos. “You’re a hard man to track down.” The blonde with choppy short hair comes to stand in front me. I place my spoon down and stare at her. This shit is stalker fucking crazy. I knew that night I was making a mistake. I saw crazy in her eyes the moment our eyes met, still I decided to shove my dick into her cunt. I should have known this would come back to bite me in the ass. I’ve only made the mistake of fucking crazy one other time. That was high school. I can blame that shit on stupidity and a dick I didn’t know how to control. I got nothing now.

I catch Tara out of the corner of my eye. She is glaring daggers at the back of chick’s head. If I remember correctly, her name is Addison.

Tara has a jealous streak. One of the reasons I’d never bring another girl home. It’s not like I’d want to anyway. Always fuck a bitch at their place, or anyplace that isn’t your own, is my motto. Don’t bring them home, then there’s no reason for them to show up because they don’t know where you live.

“Can I help you?” I finally say. Mason and Matt both lean back into their seat, watching this scene play out. They know me well. They know I don’t want anything to do with a chick after I’ve screwed her. Even the women I fuck know this. I make it perfectly clear so this type of thing never happens.

I push my chair back and turn sideways to await her answer.

“I wanted to see you. We had a great time the other night and you forgot to give me your number, silly.” She smiles. It’s forced, but a hopeful smile.

“I didn’t forget a damn thing.” That’s harsh, I know, but she doesn’t need to misinterpret me this time. “Sweetheart, I fucked you. I fucked you outside of a nightclub at that. Now I don’t fuck any pussy I don’t want to fuck, but understand this. I’ve never met a pussy I’d ever want to fuck twice.”

Her mouth drops. She’s silent for a time. Pretty certain I’ve shocked the little thing.

The sound of a door slamming enters one ear and goes out the other. I don’t think too hard on it. I have a female in front of me to deal with and to get out of my house. She has successfully ruined dinner. If I know Tara, she’s going to hold that against me for a few days.

“I...but we...what...” She can’t finish a sentence so I decide to help her out.

“Look, I’m not trying to be mean, honey, but I don’t even remember your name.” That’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. Why give her hope? There is no hope what so ever here. “It was just sex. I made that perfectly clear. I don’t know where you got other ideas, but for me, sex is just sex.”

“But—”

I don’t give her a chance to plead her case. I mean, this is already starting to get ridiculous. I almost feel sorry for this girl.

“There are no ‘buts’. Now please get out of my house.”

Again her jaw drops. I guess the chick isn’t used to being turned down. She isn’t bad looking. She’s attractive. I wouldn’t have screwed her if she weren’t.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she huffs dramatically before she turns then walks away. Seconds later I hear the door slam.

“Can you believe that bitch?” I look from Mason to Matt and then back to Mason. Matt looks pissed. Mason has his eyebrows scrunched together. “What the fuck are you both staring at? I handled her the only way I could. So what if I was an ass. She is the psycho bitch that showed up here uninvited.”

“Dude.” Mason chimes, but continues to eye me without another word.

“What?” I demand.

Matt pushes his chair back and walks off.

Just like a pussy. Has something to say, but not the balls to say it.

How am I fucking friends with him?

“Well, what the fuck, man?” I ask Mason.

“It’s not how you acted with that chick. It’s what you said.” He sounds like I should know what he is talking about. I don’t. Obviously I don’t, or I wouldn’t be asking him.

“You’re going to need to explain better than that.”

“Tara.” I look around and she isn’t here. I recall the door slamming, but I don’t get why she would leave. She knows I get laid regularly. It’s not a secret. “Your comment about never meeting a girl you’d ever want to fuck twice.”

His words hit like a freight train.

Shit.

“Fuck.” I yell and throw my fist down onto the hard surface of the table.

“Yeah.” He pushes his own chair back.

I stand and reach into my pocket for my cell. “I didn’t mean it about her.”

Mason leaves the room without another word. It’s not needed. I know he suspects the way I feel about her, but he doesn’t understand why I won’t go down that road. I’ll never go down that road with her. Not because I don’t want to, but because I won’t hurt her. She isn’t, nor will she ever be, just another quick fuck.

I locate Tara’s name from my contacts and press the call button. Her number rings, then goes to voice mail. That tells me she doesn’t have it turned off. She just isn’t answering it.

I call her two more times. Still no answer by the third attempt my anger flares. I leave her a message.

“Bring your fucking ass home, now.” My tone is laced with heat. I know it and I don’t care.

I walk off, toward the living room. Dinner is trash now, but I could care less about food at the moment.

“You just can’t help it can you?”

“What?” I bark out at Mason. He’s sitting on the couch flipping through the TV channels. He’s not looking at me.

“You continue to push her into his bed, you know.”

By him, I assume Mason means, Jared.

Prick.

I call her again as I make my way up the stairs. Voice mail is bullshit.

She doesn’t return home. In fact I don’t see her again until Friday when she shows up at the studio.