Lost In Lies (16 page)

              “Can’t even hold a paintbrush,” I smirk the way Justin would. While this is a lie— because, let’s face it, I can paint like Michelangelo, if I do say so myself—the last time I picked up a paintbrush, it cost me my ability to do my favorite thing in the world, sketch in my sketchbook. Just because Peter had to give up something to be a Lost Boy shouldn’t mean we all had to. And really he gave up, what, his heart to Belle? That’s nowhere near as hard as giving up not only the best skill I have but, in a way, my best friend. I still think I should’ve been allowed to give up a vegetable, maybe spinach?

              As if on cue, like he was overhearing my conversation, which I wouldn’t put past him, my phone vibrates in my purse. Immediately, I say, “Excuse me,” and pull the phone to my ear. “Hello.”

              “Sound shook up,” Justin’s voice murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

              “I’m good,” I lie and cast my eyes down so that I don’t make contact with Arnett. “What’s up?”

              “I need a favor,” his voice tries to remain calm, unsure of how to react to my voice. “You in Nick’s apartment?”

              “Where else would I be, Dad?” I sigh, diverting Arnett’s attention elsewhere, while I notice Nick coming down the hall in board shorts and a polo, but unlike Justin, fedora free.

              “Excuse yourself, tell Nick it’s a private call, and you need to use the room where the perfume is hidden,” he insists.

              “That doesn’t even sound ... discreet, Dad,” I insist.

              “You could also tell Nick that you need to be excused to talk dirty to your actual boyfriend on the phone.” His counter-suggestion makes me lick my lips in an annoyed fashion.

              I cover the receiver, “Hey, Nick, it’s my dad. Sounds like he’s coming down with laryngitis or strep throat. It’s hard to hear him. Mind if I use the study for just a moment? It’ll be a quick call.”

              “Why that room?” Arnett asks.

              “Because in the extra living room, I can still hear the two of you, plus I don’t believe I should be in Nick’s room without him,” I shoot an answer before turning to Nick, who smiles.

              “I wouldn’t want you in my room without me either.” Nick playfully winks before saying, “Now, with me, on the other hand, is something I’ve thought about.”

              “Nick!” I squeak.

              Justin grunts, “Did he really just say that?”

              Ignoring Justin, I remind him, “My dad can hear you.”

              “And I don’t approve.” I start to panic, thinking our cover might be blown any second.

              “You’re daughter’s beautiful!” Nick calls out, which causes Justin to grunt again as, I imagine, he scowls. Nick tilts his head that direction, “Go ahead and use the study.”

              “Thank you, sweetheart.”

              “Sweetheart, you mean lo…”

              “It’ll just be a second,” I speak over Justin and blow Nick a kiss.

              I say into the phone, “Headed that way, Dad.” Once in the private room, I toss my purse on the desk and sigh in a lower voice in case someone tries to eavesdrop, “Are you effing kidding me? Did you call me potentially blow my cover, or are you just so bored you couldn’t figure out what to do with your time other than prank call me?”

              “Calm down. I was just having a little fun. Not trying to upset you.”

              I whisper, “What do you need?”

              “A favor.”

              “And what’s the favor?”

              “See the desk?”

              “Yeah.”

              “I need you to get me a copy of that lock.”

              Confused, I snap in a whisper, “With what? My photogenic memory?”

              After a chuckle, Justin says, “There’s gum in your purse.”

              “There is not,” I say and open my bag to see a fresh pack of it. “When did you—”

              “Chew it and place it on the lock to get an imprint.” The instructions seem bizarre.

              Knowing he probably knows what he’s doing, I put it in my mouth, chew a few times, place it on top, and pull it off very slowly, getting a perfect indention. “And where am I supposed to put this?”

              “There’s a small ring box you can slide it in.”

              “No there’s…” I pull out the box he was referring to. “When did you go through my purse?”

              “That’s really not important.”             

              “That’s not going to hold up very long.”

              “I know. I’ll meet up and grab it from you.”

              “Where?”             

              “I'll find you. I always do,” he chuckles under his breath before hanging up.

              Growling that he’s so damn vague, I do as he instructs, carefully placing the box back in my purse, hoping it won’t rattle. I open the door and quickly round the corner to catch the tail end of a conversation.

              “Paranoid,” Nick repeats loudly.

              “A paranoid is someone who knows a little of what’s going on,” Arnett says. “Burroughs.”

              “The best protection for the people is not necessarily to believe everything people tell them,” Nick glances over his shoulder at me as he argues.

              “Everything OK?” I ask.

              “Fine,” Nick tries to shake off the conversation. “Ready?”

              “Yeah. Thanks again,” I wrap my arm around his as Arnett frowns. Politely, I smile at him, “Enjoy your day.”

              Nick doesn’t say another word to Arnett but begins poking around my date with Justin from the night before as we head to the elevator.

              “You have fun?”

              “I did,” the answer sounds like I’m leaving something out.

              “Was he a gentleman?” The question catches me off guard as he allows me in the elevator first.

              “Yes,” I reply. “I’ve learned to act like a lady, and he’ll treat you like a lady.”

              “Very true,” Nick agrees, nodding slowly. After a pause, he slides his hands in his pocket and asks, “Did he kiss you good night?”

              I glance in his direction, and a small smile comes across my face, “Maybe. Why? Jealous?”

              Nick rolls his head my direction, “Maybe.” His body shifts a little closer to mine as I raise my eyebrows. “Yes.” The fact he admits it, unlike Justin who is determined to hide it, excites me, and a tingle crawls up my spine.

              He leans forward and pushes the emergency stop button, forcing me to ask, “What are you doing?”

              “Stopping the elevator.”

              “What if there’s an emergency?”

              “There is,” he puts his hands on both sides of my body, his body straddled in front of me.

              “What’s the emergency?”

              A sigh escapes him, as I feel my heart pounding, “There’s a girl I’m crazy about, a girl I haven’t stopped dreaming about, thinking about, and it feels like I’m going to have a heart attack.” He nearly whimpers, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It feels like I’m dying when I’m not around her. Dying fast, it’s eating me alive. All I need is the cure.”

              My jaw bobs for a moment, “And, um, what’s the cure?”

              His smile curls, “Not what, but where.”

              Confused, I ask, “Where’s the cure?”

              “Here,” his finger gently touches my bottom lip.

              Before I can think, argue, or even banter, he swoops his lips down and plants them on top of mine. Unsure of what to do, other than kiss back, I allow Nick’s lips to take control of mine, sucking on my bottom lip, wiping from my mind any other thought or concern. Our tongues greet for what is the first time, but I’m sure not the last, causing the ground to shake.

              The elevator door dings open, which is when I realize the ground wasn’t shaking, but the elevator moving. Unsure when or how he pushed the button, I pull away and touch my lips, shocked at my behavior. Knowing he’s slaved me, he takes me by the hand and leads me out of the elevator toward the street.

              Nick leads me down to the beach to a small hut where a shirtless man wearing a shell necklace is listening to classical music with a beach influence. I don’t think I’ve ever heard “Für Elise” with a ukulele background.  After a brief conversation and the exchange of hundred-dollar bills, Nick and I follow him over to a small boat. He holds up a finger asking for another minute, which is when I see Eiden and Justin stumble onto the boat.

              Unsure of how he found us, I smile as Nick grunts uncomfortable, “Justin?”

              “Nick?” he says as if surprised to see him.

              “Hm,” Nick wraps an arm around me, causing me to drop my purse. “What are you doing?”

              “Just um,” Justin glances at the man, who has a familiar gleam in his eyes that I can’t quite pinpoint. He reminds me of someone I’ve met, but who? Geez, it’s getting pretty annoying that so many people are beginning to look like one another, but there are so many of them, it’s hard to figure out who belongs to who. Maybe I should create a map or something. If I could still sketch, I would be able to scan back through them and match looks. Maybe I should take up photography? I’m going to have to do something.  “Horseback riding. You?”

              “Just taking this beautiful lady to do the same,” Nick slides his free hand in his pocket.

              “Good afternoon, Peyton,” Justin coos, leaning on the railing as the boat takes off, Eiden lagging back.

              “Good afternoon, Justin,” I greet him kindly back as Nick adjusts his collar, nervous, intimidated more than before. “Enjoying your day?”

              “I am now.” I giggle a little, and Justin moves a little closer to me, causing Nick to drop his arm since the space seems crowded. “So what’s a guy like me have to do to get another date with a girl like you?”

              “Being a good kisser helps.” This tidbit spews out of Nick’s mouth as he slides his aviators on his face.

              The color drains from Justin’s face, and I notice trepidation. Unable to hide it as well as he thought, he stumbles over the words, “And, uh, how would you know that?”

              “Come on, Justin. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Nick tosses him a look, which causes Justin to look at me for help.

              Not being able to explain my actions or the situation at the moment, I merely make a motion for him to make witty comeback, to stay on his game, to not let Nick get the better of him even with the new information at hand.

              Justin grows his cocky grin back and slides on his own sunglasses, “Ain’t that the truth?”

              The comeback causes Nick to snap his face to me. Merely uncomfortable, I bite my bottom lip and listen to the humming of the boat. The water splashes as the man speeds across the way to another part of the beach.

              Justin asks, “Peyton, do you have any gum?”

              Justin’s obviously asking for the imprint and signals me to distract Nick. “Yeah. Grab a piece from my purse. Hey Nick, what’s that building?”

              Nick’s attention turns to the horizon, giving Justin the chance to slip out what he needs. “That’s my apartment building.” Hearing Justin ruffle through my purse, which really is unnecessary since the box is right there on top, Nick looks down, “Are you really going through her purse?”

              Caught, I assume with the object in hand, Justin shrugs, “She told me to.”

              “Still,” Nick looks as though he doesn’t trust him. “You should never go through a woman’s purse.”

              Justin shows me a piece of gum with a look indicating he doesn’t have the box, “Thanks.”

              “Sure,” I reply as the boat comes to a stop.

              “I’m going to take them to the horses first, and then we can ...” The man stops speaking as Justin tips his hat, warning him that the mark is still on board. “Talk about getting you two set up.”

              “All right,” Eiden speaks for what I’m positive is the first time.

              I glance over my shoulder at Justin, knowing he needs to get the box out of my purse before it loses form or usefulness. He holds a hand low and makes a patting motion, I assume to tell me he’s got a backup plan. Turning back around, I let a small grin crawl on my face. It’s like he always has a backup plan, which makes me wonder a little: Does he have a backup plan for if we don’t work out?

              After I pick my purse back up, we follow him over to the where the stalls are kept in a small, shaded area with plenty for the horses to eat and drink.

              Immediately, I’m drawn to a pure white one that has a strip right underneath its neck, almost like a tie. With a smirk, I place my hand on its nose, “I want to ride this one.”