White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1) (15 page)

BOOK: White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1)
7.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

She twirled a finger in her hair, revealing a clover-shaped birthmark. “I brought this teal blue nightie with feathers on it. It’s perfect. Don’t you think? It’ll drive Carson wild for sure.”

Sometimes, I thought Rosie had a few screws loose, but I wondered if it might be an act. I wasn’t sure. “Umm… Carson may not…”

Daggers filled her eyes as she took a huge gulp of her martini. “How would you know if he’s like a brother?”

“Good grief. No.”
Think, Willow. Think.
“He’s got a lot of work. I know he’s behind.”

She took a drink. “I’ll be able to help ease that stress.” She teetered, sloshing her drink. “I need a refill. Be right back.”

I sighed. Rosie was drunk. She hid it well until she tried to walk. Time to abort this conversation. Quickly, I cleaned up my dinner and went to my room. I closed and locked the door. Carson slept peacefully with his eyelashes fanned across his face. Always on the go, he never got much sleep. Rosie had started tapping on his window while he unpacked. He’d been camped out in my room ever since. When I told him about the blue nightie with the feathers, he was going to barricade himself in my room. We were officially roomies for the weekend.

I settled on the couch near the bay windows where the blinds had been shut in case Rosie stooped lower than expected. Carson had insisted. Soon, if she kept drinking at the pace she had been, Carson would be the least of her concerns.

The folder Mildred had found caught my eye. It stuck out of my bag, where I’d packed it at the last minute in case I had some free time.

Alex hadn’t kept much in the office. I hadn’t noticed until I packed up his stuff, but he’d been like a guest in the house. I always thought he was a minimalist, but he was actually only passing through my life and using me.

Asshole.

I would’ve given him the two million to avoid the heartache he caused. It worried me that he’d ruined me for any future man.

Flipping open the file, I saw one sheet from a bank statement. It was missing all the other pages—almost like it was left on accident. I skimmed through it. Each week, money transferred from his account to Apple Blossom in the amount of one thousand dollars.

Above it were transactions from ten of my accounts for one hundred dollars. I opened up my bank account app on my phone and pulled up one of the accounts, finding the withdrawal last month. I dug into my settings.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

An automatic withdrawal had been setup on this account to send the amount from me to Alex every other week. I pulled up another account.

Motherfucker.

Same thing happened on alternating weeks. I pulled up another. It was like the first account. Such a small amount would never be brought to my attention. I knew my accountant would think I was giving Alex money.

He stole from me? Why was I surprised?

I put the paper to the side, making a mental note to research the school, and shut off the automatic deposits.

The next paper listed numbers with letters beside them. Some sort of code… maybe coordinates… I wasn’t sure.

Behind were printouts of a hotel in Manhattan with another set of numbers and letters. I recognized this hotel. It was posh like the Whitmore chain.

Cryptic.

I took a picture and sent it to Tack, furious at the depth Alex went to.

 

Me: Found this in Alex’s stuff. He stole from me also.

Tack: Can you send me those details?

 

After taking more pictures, I sent what I had.

 

Me: Does that code make sense?

Tack: Not yet. Is it safe to call?

Me: No, Carson’s asleep. He’s hiding out from a crazy friend in my room. I’m on the couch going through the papers.

 

I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to clarify why Carson was in the same room, but I did.

 

Tack: Call me tomorrow when you can. I’ll make myself available.

Me: Did something bad happen?

Tack: No, I just need to hear your voice.

 

There it was again… raw emotional honesty. It was my turn to give him the same.

 

Me: I’m scared you’re playing me like Alex did.

Tack: I wish we could talk so you could hear the honesty in my voice. I’m not playing you. Only time will prove I’m telling the truth.

Me: I like the sound of that. I’m going to go to sleep. Night, Tack.

Tack: Night, Willow. Call me if you need anything.

Me: I will.

 

I tucked the phone away into the zipper part of my purse and straightened the papers. A small envelope fell onto the floor. Odd. I turned over the stack and noticed a paperclip on the last page. No wonder I hadn’t seen it. With shaky hands, I opened the envelope and took out a photograph of a little boy, no more than five or six years old, sitting on Alex’s lap. Alex’s eyes were bright as he lovingly held onto what had to be his son, who was the spitting image of him.

Hurt spiraled through me as his words replayed in my head.

“I don’t want any fucking kids, Willow. Get it through your damned head. I don’t care what I said before. I’m in this mess because I focused everything I had on YOU!”

My body flinched, hearing the words as if they’d been spoken out loud. Life had been terrible.

I brought the picture closer, scrutinizing every detail.

Alex loved his son. It was obvious.

He’d wanted kids… just not with me. If only I had the ability to turn back time. Make different decisions.

Regrets were poisonous to the soul. I hoped I was able to move past them and not be too damaged.

I flipped the picture over, noting a woman’s elegant script across the back—probably Candy’s.

 

 

I’d reached my breaking point, and now I was done. After putting everything away, I stood and walked toward the door.

It was the final blow.

I needed a drink.

A strong one.

 

 

Laughter subsided. I wasn’t sure what made me laugh so hard, but it had been funny. The world swayed as I sat on a lawn chair.

My mind was fuzzy. Any negative thoughts weren’t able to penetrate the thick haze I’d surrounded myself with.

Alcohol was my friend. My best friend. The most wonderful friend in the whole wide world.

“I wuv you, Willow.”

I glanced over to Marissa. “I wuv you, too.”

She leaned over, beer sloshing about. “Remember the time Carson and Clay hauled us out of the bar? It was so much fun dancing. We were drunk like we are now.”

I believed I’d been drunker than Marissa. I snorted. We’d just turned twenty-one. Hard to believe it was three years ago.

“Party pooper shamooper.” A giggle escaped at my new word. Marissa laughed, too. Alcohol was her best friend tonight, too. I think alcohol was a lot of people’s friend tonight.

The alcohol no longer burned as I took a sip. “I going get anoder beer.”

I stood and swayed. Clay looked at me. He was drunk, too. “You good, Willow? Need any help?”

“Nopers. I gotz this.”

Putting one foot in front of the other, I took baby steps and started clapping. It was a good idea.

“Why the hell are you clapping, Willow?” Marissa called.

I made a shushing sound with my finger to my lips. “It’s my tracking device. You need to know wherez I am.”

“I wuv you, Willow.”

“I wuv you, too, Marissa.”

So much love. I loved everyone. The world was a better place with alcohol. Mom was wrong. Ice cream was not the solver of world problems. Alcohol was.

Almost to the cooler, I stopped and announced, “I needz to pee. I’m going to clapz my way to the poolz house instead of anoder beer.”

Clap.

Walk.

Clap.

Walk.

Giggle.

This was funny. Marissa laughed, too.

Clap.

Walk.

Clap.

Walk.

Giggle.

I died laughing.

Stopping, I squinted back over to the campfire and yelled, “Can you guyz track me?”

“Got you loud and clear!” Marissa stood and then fell over into Clay’s lap.

Now, that was funny.
I need to pee. Focus, Willow. Bathroom.
I was almost there. The door was close.

Clap.

Walk.

Clap.

Walk.

Giggle.

“I’m herez! Goingz to pee!”

“Okay, pee!”

The room was darker, and I felt my way to the bathroom. I couldn’t find the light switch at first. After taking care of business, I left the bathroom. Wow, the dark outline of the room swayed. Maybe another beer was a bad idea. Yeah, it was.

I stumbled, and strong arms caught me. “I got you, Willow.”

Happiness filled me. Everyone was my friend. I screeched. “It’s you! Tack! My best friend phonez buddy. I love you! I love everyonez tonight.”

“Shh…” The voice vibrated through me.

Oh la la. I hoped Tack was a hottie. In my dreams, he reached hot factor nine. It was going to be very disappointing if he wasn’t. “You have a sexy whisper.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

I put my fingers in front of my face and lost count a few times. “A bunches.”

“Fuck, Willow. You shouldn’t.”

I held my finger to my lips. “No party poopersshamoopers allowed. Why are you whispering?”

He mumbled something, and I stumbled as I took a step toward the door. “You need to lie down, Willow.”

“No, I wantz to drink anoder beer.” Maybe beer was a good idea.

My feet left the floor, and I nuzzled into his chest. Oh, he was warm. Comfy. Lips touched my forehead.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Stay strong for just a little longer. I nearly have it all figured out. What happened since we texted?”

“I sawz a pictures of hiz son. Alex blamed me for all those deaths.” My head lolled to the side. No more bad thoughts. My vision was fuzzy. “Are you old?”

“Old?”

I snuggled into his chest again. “Yeah, I hope you’re not old. That’d be yuuuck! Ewww to the you.”

“Why?”

“Because I fantasize about you.” I wasn’t even ashamed as I sniffed him, making a big production. “And you smellz good. Fresh.”

He chuckled.

“Are you cute?”

“Let’s hope so.”

A wave of nausea hit. “I need to lie down. I feel sick.”

We moved a little. Or maybe the room was spinning. I wasn’t sure. “There’s a couch here. I’ll stay with you until someone comes.”

“Okay.”

My eyes were already sliding shut. I felt a pressure on my wrist, and then I found the soft couch. Was he taking my pulse? Lips came to my ear. “I won’t leave you.”

“Stay.”

Tack was here, and as my eyes closed, I knew I would be safe.

 

 

P
ound.

Pound.

Pound.

“Make it stop. Please.” I was in agony as I pleaded with someone, anyone, to make the pounding cease.

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

I groaned. “I’m dying. Stop.”

Squinting my eyes open, I saw Carson asleep on the couch that was pulled up alongside the bed.

Other books

Gulag Voices by Anne Applebaum
The God Wave by Patrick Hemstreet
Los hombres de Venus by George H. White
Truth Be Told (Jane Ryland) by Hank Phillippi Ryan
The XXX Weekends by K.C. Cave