Pieces of Lies (3 page)

Holy fuck!

“Josh Hollows.” His voice was deep and inviting. He eyed Josh and then turned to me, “And this must be, Norah.” I was feeling uncomfortable; sensing there was something off with what Josh had just said only moments ago, but since I had no answers, I put on my best game face.

“Yes, Norah Ross, a pleasure to meet you, ahh…” I waited for the very handsome guy with chiseled features and silken voice to respond.

“Clint Weston. This is my house. I’m also Josh’s group leader.” Josh looked very worried now for reasons I couldn’t fathom. Clint studied me for a brief moment. I assumed he was already passing some kind of judgment on Josh’s choice of guest for the evening. As Clint’s eyes gave me a final once-over, he grinned slyly and then turned and started leading us off into the mansion. As we entered the enormous doorway, we were ushered down a wide hallway and to a grand ball room. My eyes drifted around the house as we made our way. Expansive mahogany floors, spectacular chandeliers, and all the luxurious fittings you could ever imagine decorated the opulent mansion.

I turned my head slightly to look at Clint a little closer. He walked confidently, with a little air of arrogance about him,
no surprise there,
and he was a good deal taller than me; maybe around six feet or more, with broad shoulders and a lean body. The Tom Ford tuxedo he was wearing was tailored to perfection against what I was imagining as a very nicely toned, muscular physique. I started to mentally undress him, my eyes sweeping over his arms, to his chest, working their way to his waist and then they began to drop a little lower. Clint noticed my stare and cleared his throat. I caught a little smile on his lips. My eyes shot upwards and back to facing forward, returning my focus back to Josh.
Whoops!

When we all entered the grand ballroom, Clint made his way over to a group in the far corner of the room, whilst Josh and I stalled at the entrance. I could see there were at least fifty or more guys dressed in tuxedos, all with dates that were immaculately put together with designer dresses and well groomed features. They were all holding champagne glasses, standing around, chatting with one another. There was also a string quartet off to the side near the wine bar. It filled the atmosphere with light hearted classical numbers. It was quite an affair and exactly how Josh had described it would be.

Josh put his arm around my waist and tightened his grip as an alarming number of eyes fixated on me as we stood at the entrance to the ballroom. “You really do look stunning Norah,” Josh whispered into my ear, trying to assure me that the stares were nothing more than complimentary. I took a breath. I had been in some confronting situations before, but this was definitely a different kind of scene. I quickly realized I had taken myself out of my comfort zone for a cheap thrill. 

Pushing insecure feelings aside, I fell into my normally confident persona and squeezed Josh’s arm, “C’mon, let’s take a walk on the wild side.” I tried to joke with Josh, but he looked anything but amused.

After an hour of mingling, fake smiles, and the most boring conversation about the economy I had to endure, I was realizing fast that I had over-estimated the excitement I would gain from these people. I had every intention of throwing in the occasional snarky comment for my own amusement, but I didn’t get a window. I was so bored that I was genuinely confused by Josh’s initial hesitation in bringing me here in the first place.

“Can I steal your date for a while Hollows?” Clint Weston appeared behind us, as if from nowhere. Josh looked at Clint and then to me. Fear was evident in Josh’s expression, which made me a little concerned. Clint was probably making the rounds to all the dates, talking to them and making sure they were of a suitable standard for the night’s test.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Josh mumbled, looking around at the other girls. I felt a little irritated by his lack of attention to me and his easiness at handing me over at the first available opportunity. I kept in the mindset however, that this was probably some kind of ‘Q&A’ for Josh’s test this evening, so I was more than happy to try and put my best foot forward. 

I latched onto Clint’s arm, hoping to get some kind of jealous look from Josh, but he shuffled away, not making eye contact with me as Clint led me to a corridor and away from the ballroom. Something felt completely off, but I didn’t have time to stop and analyze Josh’s behavior since Clint clearly had some kind of agenda in mind.

In the short time I had spent on campus, I had already heard a stream of gossip about Clint Weston. It wasn’t that I enjoyed that kind of gossip, but it was hard to avoid since he was such a popular subject for many girls in my classes, who didn’t care who was in earshot.  As soon as Clint told me his name, campus whispers and girlish sighs came booming into my head. From the chatter I had already heard, he was from the richest family in the county, and that they were from ‘old money’ (the best kind apparently). His family was into real estate development, and it was said Clint was in line to take over the family business when he finished his degree. That, combined with his male model-esque good looks and charm, was the constant talk amongst the female majority of the student body, all hoping to become the future ‘Mrs. Clint Weston’. He was also largely described as the campus playboy, something that didn’t surprise me at all. 

Aren’t all the rich, good looking, future CEO-types, womanizers?
 I was a sucker for stereotypes since I grew up around so many who fit the molds. Already I was certain that nothing Clint would say or do, would surprise me in the slightest.

“So you’ve recently transferred to McLaren University Josh tells me,” Clint commented, a bored tone to his voice.

I sighed, more small talk. “Yes, almost a month ago, I really like the campus; it seems rich in history and has a very good graphic design program.” I had been saying the exact same things all night. Questions about why I transferred, what I was studying, what I thought about the campus. Boring.

“Graphic design, you’re an artist?” Clint kept the questions coming.

“Yep, I try to be both kinds, mental and physical.”

Clint smiled, “That’s cute.”

Clint shifted direction, leading me right down another corridor. “Where are we going?” I asked, wondering why the sudden change in our walk.

“I thought since you liked art, you would like to see some of the work we have on display here.”

This did please me. Finally something I was interested in and I could only imagine what kind of collection a place like this had. It was very considerate that he had thought to do so.

“How long have you known Josh?” Clint’s voice was a little brighter and seemed interested in my answer.

“We’ve known each other most of our lives. We grew up in the same city, went to the same school. He was never afraid to talk me.” 

Damn, I had forgotten myself!

“Not afraid to talk to you? I guess your beauty does come across as intimidating,” Clint complimented, but I was happy he misinterpreted the real meaning of my comment. I laughed a little uncomfortably.

“Hmmm, I bet you say that to all the girls.” I nuzzled him with my hand, hoping he would play.

“I don’t feel the need to say that kind of thing to anyone, especially girls.” Clint seemed offended that I hadn’t been more appreciative.

“Sorry, I just figured you were being polite.” I raised my eyebrows at his reaction.

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean, Norah,” and then he stopped walking, turned and we both looked up.

I held my breath, staring in awe. 

“I take it you recognize this?” Clint beamed at me but I was silent in my appreciation.

“Is it?” Then I stopped and spoke to myself, “Of course it’s real Norah.” How could I even doubt for a second that this place would display copies? I was standing in front of the real Marc Chagall’s
Three Candles
. Emotion swept over me and I found myself gripping Clint’s arm with both my hands. Clint's hand began to move as he spoke, “Some say it’s simply supposed to convey protection from harm and isolation, but I believe it means…”

“That with true love there is always protection.”

He turned to look deep into my dark brown eyes. “Yes exactly. That was exactly what I was going to say. How did you know I was about to say that Norah?”

I looked at his blue eyes which were completely soft and gentle, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t, but that’s what I feel when I look at it. The conflict of what it conveys, the reasoning that it’s both those meanings at any given time, but knowing ultimately that true love can always prevail.”

There was a very awkward silence as I remained gripped to his arm. I felt his muscles flex under his tux, which made my heart jump out of my chest. I let go of him, suddenly falling back as I did, my heels slipping from my sudden movement. Clint reached out to catch me before I could fall.

“I’ve got you,” he stated heroically. My heart rate quickened as he steadied me on my feet. Our eyes met again, and then they connected like we had just seen each other for the first time. Time stilled in my mind as we held our gaze. I was light headed by the moment and I think I even stopped breathing. Clint blinked hard as he tried to remove his eyes from our stare.

What the hell was that?

As we started to walk again, Clint spoke up, “You seem to be a bright girl Norah,” and he smiled widely, flirting, his cold demeanor completely changing from when we began our talk.

“I’m sure you’ve met a lot of intelligent women before Clint, but thank you for the observation.”

As we continued walking along the hallway, there was a nervous sensation that was now evident between us. He seemed to struggle to make more conversation, his words catching in his throat, coming out as coughs rather than sentences, and I was finding it difficult to ignore our moment of synonymous artistic appreciation. In my mind, the way a person interprets art can say a lot about who they are, and now, I had drawn a blank on Clint Weston. I thought I already had him pinned as an arrogant playboy, who probably didn’t have a sensitive bone in his body. Now, I was completely unsure of any assumption I might have had about him to begin with.

As we walked in silence, our hands grazed each other, our fingers lingering, almost intertwining, magnetically drawn to one another, eagerly wanting to connect. Clint inhaled sharply and pulled his hand away quickly, almost as if he wasn’t allowed to touch me. He stopped walking abruptly and turned to me. “I’m really surprised you were fine with coming to this party tonight Norah.”

That was an oddly presumptuous thing to say
.

“Well, I am Josh’s best friend. Who else would be better suited for this?”

Clint only blinked at me in silence. 

What, no response
? Just those beautiful blue eyes showing me nothing except shock and confusion.
How bizarre.

“I look the part don’t I? Although I must say, this party really didn’t live up to any of my expectations.”

Clint’s mouth fell open, and still nothing came out. 

Well now he looks gobsmacked. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. Will that reflect poorly on Josh? Fix it Norah. Fix it now!

“And to be honest, I did kind of hustle Josh into bringing me this evening. I mean, I’ve seen my fair share of movies and I really did want to satisfy my curiosity about secret societies, and I thought I would fit in to a party like this.” 

Clint's mouth finally closed, but I could see his breathing get faster from the increased movement of his chest. His eyes were still staring wildly at me.

Fuck! He
still has the same exasperated expression on his face. Shut up Norah, you are making things worse
.

Clint looked all sorts of worried. 

“You really don’t know do you?” he finally managed to get out.

“Know what exactly Clint?” my eyes darted back and forth from his eyes as I tried to figure out what he was talking about.

Clint then he mumbled under his breath, “Of course you don’t. Damn you Hollows!”

WHOA! What happened to the Q&A part of the evening?

“You should probably head home Norah. The party is nearly over anyway.” Clint was looking now for a servant and ushered one over by raising his arm and moving two of his middle fingers in a, ‘come over here’ like gesture. I was completely confused at his dismissal. I had not been rude and I thought we had enjoyed each other’s company, but now, he was quickly trying to get me to leave.

“Did I do something wrong?” I stared at Clint, a little hurt he was being so openly dismissive and that he hadn’t bothered to explain any of the obscure conversation we just had. He turned me towards him and his hands caressed the length of my arms, his face tensing as he touched me. “Norah, I normally don’t ask people to leave these parties, it’s not allowed until,” and he stopped and paused, “but I’m the group leader, and I think you should go. I don’t want you to stay any longer, and I am getting you a limo so you can go home right now.”

I was now officially offended by his eagerness to get rid of me.
What a complete ass!
  Instant anger bubbled to the surface and I spat out, “I am not leaving until I get Josh!” I pushed past Clint, a little shaken by how hurt I was feeling. I needed to find Josh and leave as quickly as I could before I started to cry from being so completely caught off-guard by his rudeness. 

As I quickened my pace back to the ballroom, I could hear Clint’s footsteps not far behind me.

“Norah, stop, stop!” He was trying to catch up, but I maneuvered myself quickly between the tuxes and sparkly clad Barbie look-a-likes that were littered in groups around the ballroom.

“Has anyone seen Josh Hollows?” I asked out loud, hoping to get someone’s attention who might know.

“He’s in the study behind the wine bar,” a voice snickered from the crowd. I searched with my eyes for the wine bar which was across the ballroom. As I strode across the floor, a hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, “Wait gorgeous, you haven’t been deflowered yet have you?”