Compulsive (Liar #1) (2 page)

Hands grasped my shoulders, shaking me and my
attention back to him, our eyes falling into a desperate connection. “Maybe
we’re just…bad for each other.”

Tears welled in my eyes, my heart ached, and my chin
dropped. He gripped me tighter, knowing how I hated to be seen like that,
knowing I’d pull away, try to hide. I wanted to tell him we weren’t bad for
each other, or at least he wasn’t for me. I wanted to say that without him in
my life I wouldn’t survive. But I couldn’t utter a single word.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He released one hand and cupped
the back of my head, pulling it into his chest. “We’ve been
friends
,” he
whispered. “We’ve been…whatever the hell this is.” He paused. “But there’s one
thing we haven’t been.”

My head started tiny involuntary shakes into his chest
before his other arm came around to my back. He laid his palm flat and gentle
and then rubbed up and down. “Don’t shake your head. Don’t start thinking like
that. We could try. I’m willing to try if you are.”

I curled my lips under my teeth to stop myself from
spitting out a response. To stop before a lie hurt him even more. Even if I owned
the truth, words still failed to come out.

My silence told him I was fighting tears. “I mean, who
knows, we could end up being like one of those sitcom couples, laughing and
playing stupid tricks on each other.” His futile attempts to make me laugh still
touched me. “Gray,” he said, grabbing my face and pulling it up to him. “Say
something.”

“We…can’t.
I
…can’t.”

Defeated, his eyes closed; his hands fell to his
sides. “Right.”

He turned and reached for the door, pulling the
handle.

“Wait,” I said, stopping him. “What about us now? I
mean…that’s it. We’re alone now?” Panic rose in my chest.

“I’ll never leave you alone, Gray. You can count on
that.”

--------------------------

The second nameplate on the door read,
Dr. Sylvia Ashburn-Wallace,
LMFT, PsyD
. When we first met three months ago, I joked that she had more
names than I did. A little mythomania humor to break the ice. But she hadn’t
even cracked a smile. I’d also hoped it would make her believe I was open to
this little charade that Evyn “assigned” to me.
The first step is admitting
you have a problem
.

So, why was I there…exactly? In a crazy jacked-up
nutshell… I was a liar.

I know what you’re thinking. We’re all fucking liars.
But I’m not talking about the lie you tell your Aunt Helen when she gives you
that crappy sweater for your birthday. Or even the lie you tell yourself when
you’re sleeping with someone for all the wrong reasons. I’m talking about bold-faced
lies that spilled from my lips as easy as the breath from my lungs. Lies that
ruined people, lies that protected people, lies for the hell of it. I ate, slept,
and drank lies. I bathed in deceit. At one point in my life, I might not have
recognized the truth if it bent me over and slapped me on the ass. And
sometimes the chaos that was my life got me in a whole hell of a lot of
trouble.

The pros will tell you that compulsive lying disorder
is not actually a documented psychiatric disorder. Supposedly, it’s a symptom
of some other underlying personality disorder, which for me shall remain
nameless. Maybe I was just a crazy bitch. Dr. Wallace said many times a
traumatic experience or childhood neglect could cause compulsive lying to
develop early on and become a habit. I was never on a milk carton. Didn’t end
up at the police station eating an ice cream cone while waiting for my parents.
But I’d had my share of traumatic experiences. Some I wouldn’t wish on my worst
enemy.

I’d pressed the damn light under her name outside the
lobby door ten minutes earlier, and I was still sitting in the meat locker,
shivering. The other four lights were off in the empty waiting room. That pissed
me off about the place. You never knew what was going on or who hid behind
closed doors, so by the time it was your turn, you were already in a foul mood.
What an inventive way for shrinks to create return business.

The door pushed open, and a Clark Kent looking guy
stepped out holding a screwdriver. He gave me a nod as he walked by and over to
a box on the wall. He used the screwdriver to jimmy the box open. “Are you
cold?” he asked, not turning around.

Yeah, it was like
The Shining
in there. “No…I’m
fine.”

“Then why were you rubbing your arm?”

“Tetanus shot,” I said, reaching for my arm again.
“Still a little sore.”

He looked over his shoulder at me, and one corner of
his mouth turned up. He wasn’t bad looking. I pictured him pulling his shirt
open to reveal a giant “S” and bulging muscles. “Well,” he said, turning back
to the box. “The owner of this building keeps this locked, so we won’t mess
with the temperature.”

“It’s nice you respect their wishes.”

“They don’t realize they’re actually wasting money.
Plus, we get a lot of complaints about the cold and well…”

“You wouldn’t want to have to slap a straitjacket on one
of these crazies.”

“I didn’t say that. We want the people who visit this
office to be as comfortable and relaxed as possible.” He closed the box and
headed back to the door. He stopped when he saw the light. “You’re a patient of
Dr. Wallace?”

“No…but I do need to see her.” I stood and walked
toward him, drawing his attention to me. His gaze landed on the top button of
my snug black top. In my heels, he still had a good four inches on me, so I
guessed him to be around six-two. “Is she in?” I asked before his gaze bounced
up to mine and then down to the screwdriver in his hand.

“I’m sorry. She’s not. Did you have an appointment?”

Then, he looked up at me with a pair of mesmerizing midnight
blue eyes that made my throat dry up. I swallowed and upgraded him from
not
bad looking
to
sort of gorgeous
. “I don’t… but it’s kind of
important.”

“Do you have the number to her service?”

“I…” I glanced down to the phone in my hand. “My
battery’s dead,” I said, tucking it into my back pocket before he could see it.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but he didn’t know quite
who he was dealing with. I returned the same look back to him.

“All right,” he said, holding back a grin. “Why don’t
you come back to my office, and you can use my phone.”

“Or, could I leave a note on her door?” I’m guessing
innocent doe eyes don’t work on therapists, but mine instinctively came out
when I wanted something. “I’d really like her to know that I was here.”
Otherwise Dr. Buzzkill wouldn’t believe me. One of the many downsides to people
knowing you’re a liar.

He pulled the door wide and stood, waiting for me to
pass through.

“I really appreciate this, Mr..?” I said before
moving.

“Dr.” He nodded. “Dr. Harrison.”

I walked toward him, and then just for the hell of it,
I glanced up and gave him a sexy smile. “Thank you, Dr. Harrison.” I wanted to
see if it would be easy to rattle Clark Kent’s cage.

His response was surprisingly impressive. His eyes
challenged mine as if to say
nice try
, and then he gestured to the open
doorway, to which I immediately obliged. I should have known these shrinks were
always in character.

I stopped at the end of the hallway, so he could lead
me to his office. As he unlocked his door, I took the opportunity to check out
his backside. I really did need psychiatric help. Or, maybe I simply wanted
this hot Superman to rescue me. His khaki pants were snug enough for me to see
a pleasant shape beneath the material. He topped it with a dark blue casual
polo shirt that told me he didn’t just sit on his ass listening to people’s
problems. I briefly wondered what he did to build up that chest.

The sight of his office as he swung the door open
pulled me from my virtual sexcapdes. I was starting to realize I was getting jipped
with Dr. Wallace, whose office was like sitting in your grandma’s living room—knitted
blanket over small tweed sofa, wooden rocking chair where she sat across from
me, and the constant smell of an air plug-in that could only be described as a
twenty-year-old bottle of cheap perfume.

He left the door open, possibly because I wasn’t a
patient. “Wow, nice place you have here, Doc,” I said, stepping into the
spacious room. The first thing I noted were the two large, floor-to-ceiling
windows at the back behind one of two burgundy sofas placed in an L shape.
Across from each sofa were two black vinyl chairs and in the middle of the four
pieces sat a decent looking throw rug. This was more of a set-up for an
intimate gathering than for lunatics to pour their heart out.

He ignored my comment and headed toward a lamp, which
stood on a side table next to one of the sofas. “One moment.” He switched it on
even though the sun hadn’t set yet and was still providing light to the room. Then,
he strode over to the far corner where a small oak desk sat, dwarfed by a huge
bookshelf. I assumed he sought a pad and paper as he opened a drawer, but I no
longer cared. I moved to the window and gazed outside to the tall leafy trees billowing
against the summer breeze.

“Uh, miss…” I heard him say behind me. The place was more
appealing than my apartment, and I was in no hurry to leave. I took my time
taking in the view before he spoke again. “I’m sorry…I didn’t get your name.”

“Sky,” I said before I had a chance to think.
Damn
.
Something he can easily check with Dr. Wallace. I turned and walked over to his
desk. “Um…Gray.”

He’d set a pad and pen next to a cordless phone at the
edge of his desk. The rest of the workspace was tidy, spotless, and borderline
OCD. Exactly how I would have arranged it. I broke into a wide grin, holding
back a chuckle when I noticed a pair of black plastic glasses sitting next to
his cell phone. It was all I could do not to call Clark out about his secret
identity.

“Is there something you find amusing, Miss Gray?”

“It’s just Gray. Sorry. And…” I started to speak again
when the already open door pushed out further.

Right when things were getting interesting, Dr. Downer
walked in. I didn’t even get to try out his couch.

“Gray, I thought I heard your voice in here.” Dr.
Wallace did not sport her usual seventies retro business attire. I was
surprised to find her in jeans and an Ole Miss sweatshirt.

Dr. Harrison came from around his desk. “Perfect.
Hello, Dr. Wallace. Miss, uh…Gray was just going to leave you a message.”

He hobbled over my name and spoke in a much quicker
tone than he had been with me.

“Hello, Dr. Wallace,” I said. I nodded, clasped my
hands together, and stretched my lips, showing her my usual reticent demeanor.
Dr. Harrison and I exchanged curious glances as we both seemed to slink into
other people. Did Dr. Wallace have that effect on everyone, or did Clark have his
own reasons for kowtowing to her?

“This seems to be good timing all around. I need to
speak with you, Miss Donovan.” She grabbed the door handle as she eyed me in a
way I couldn’t read. Then, she nodded at Dr. Harrison. “I’ll speak to you a bit
later. There are some things we should discuss.”

Dr. Harrison trailed me to the door. “Of course. I
should be here for about another hour.”

My comfort level went from semi-serene to ass-cringing
as soon as I entered Dr. Wallace’s office. I made a beeline for my usual spot,
at the end of the sofa that was pressed against the corner of the wall, even
though this was not an official session. As soon as my butt hit the cushions, I
found her behind her desk, lifting a box to the floor next to a smaller one.
She grabbed a stack of papers and a pen before heading over to join me.

“Redecorating?” I said when she sat. I gestured to the
boxes.

“If you hadn’t missed our last appointment, you’d know
what this was about.” Her words were matter-of-fact.

I straightened in my seat, drumming up some courage.
“Look, I know what this means, but…”

“Let me just stop you right there.” She held a firm
palm up. “I don’t have time for this…nor do I care, frankly.”

“But, Dr. Wallace. You know what will happen to me.
You know I’ll get fired.”

“You were aware of this fact as well, Gray.”

“Of course. Which is why I’d never have missed if it
wasn’t for…”

“I’m done, Gray. It doesn’t matter anyway.” She leaned
forward, handing me a sheet of paper.

I glanced at it to find a list of names and contact
information. “I don’t understand.”

“My mother has Alzheimer’s. She lives in Oxford and
has had a major setback. I can’t in good conscious stick her in a home. So, I’m
moving my practice back to help with her needs.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry.” Suddenly, I saw Dr. Wallace in a
whole new light. I’d like to think if I still had my mother I’d do the same,
but it was quite a sacrifice.

“Thank you.”

“But…I still don’t understand. What are these names?
What happens now that I’ve failed to comply?”

“Looks like you’re going to get a stay of execution.”
She rose from her chair, leaving me with my mouth hung open.

Was I off the hook? I should have been ecstatic at the
prospect. Instead, my head spun. This woman annoyed the hell out of me. I’d
done nothing but fight this process the whole way. Then, why was my stomach
becoming more knotted with every second? Evyn forced this on me, accused me of
something I didn’t even do. She threatened to fire me if I didn’t get help and
do this. Was it simply the separation anxiety I’ve struggled with or a belief
that I needed help?

“Gray.” Dr. Wallace’s voice pulled me from my downward
spiral. “I’ve already spoken with Evyn Langstrom and let her know that another
therapist will be taking over your case.”

“What?” I hadn’t seen that coming.

“I’m sorry, Gray. I know how difficult this will be,
but you didn’t leave me much choice. I either report that you’d failed to
comply, leaving me to complete a lengthy exit process and summary to your
employer, or I pass you off to another therapist who will begin anew with you.”
She picked up the trash and swept a few loose papers and other items into the
can. “I suggest you take this opportunity seriously this time.”

I watched her move a wet wipe around the surface of
her desk and scrub vigorously at a spot. Yep, she had checked out on me, and I
was a mere detail to tick off her list. Who could blame her? I got up from the
couch, holding the paper and walked over to her. “So, my time starts over?
Another six months? I should get some sort of credit for time served.”

She tossed the wipe into the trash and folded her
arms. “We both know you didn’t like me.”

I averted my gaze down to the paper. “To be fair, I’m
not going to like any of these people, either.”

She let a half-smile onto her face before pulling her indifferent
expression back into place. “Think of it as a second chance. Perhaps this time
you’ll open up. Figure some things out. I’m sorry you don’t have more time to
digest this,” she said, walking toward the door. “But we should have had this
conversation days ago. Now, I’m going to have to cut this short. I hope you
understand.”

“Oh…sure.”

She held the door open for me, but I stopped just
short. “I’m not sure how to start.” The first time around I’d had no choice but
to see Dr. Wallace.

“I’ll touch base with you one more time before I
leave. Check those names and make sure they’re on your plan before you make a
decision. They’re all people I trust.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wallace,” I said, stunned, staring at
the names in confusion. I turned to leave, but stopped once again. “Uh…I don’t
see Dr. Harrison on this list.”