The Truth Behind The Lies
THE TRUTH
BEHIND THE LIES
A Novel
By
Lolah Lace
Published by Lolah Lace
Copyright © 2015 by Lolah Lace
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Lolah Lace is no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, public figures or artists mentioned in the book.
All rights reserved.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted right is illegal. No part of this book or its text may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews or without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-0-9964124-0-7
1
st
Edition
Cover Image by Joshua Resnick
Cover Design by LLPro
*EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT*
WARNING
This novel is considered erotic romantic fiction. This is for mature audiences only. This book contains adult profane language, mild violence and strong sexual content.
Dedications
This book is dedicated to the people whose cell phone numbers I blocked while writing this book. If I answered and listened to all the drama I would never finish a book. So this is for you. You make me concentrate on my kids and my craft. XOXO It’s all love.
Acknowledgments
I would like to give a special thanks to beta reader Patrice Harrison. If I could clone you I would. Your input is the truth. Thanks to beta reader Camille Crawford for reading deep into the words. Thank you to all the IR Romance readers and authors that participate in my Facebook group Lolah’s Loveland.
***
“Is a stranger really a danger? Or is the danger in what we will do with a stranger?”
Lolah Lace
***
I’m back to square one. This time around I think I like being single. All my relationships end in disaster with my last one being a colossal hot ass mess. Well that’s not really true of all them. Some just fade away peacefully with both parties only suffering a minimal amount of emotional damage.
Some people aren’t meant to be together. It seems there is no one meant to be with me. I think there could be something wrong with me. If there is I just don’t know what it is or how to fix it, how to fix me. I’m not trifling. I’m not an angry black woman. So what gives? I think I hate being single. No, I know I hate it.
★
FRIDAY
★
I’m so glad I got that over with. I hate being here, in this building. The place was huge and intimidating and I felt out of place being here. I had the nerve to be scared. I’m not really scared of anything, just one of my character flaws. Feeling this way is stupid due to the fact that this is probably the safest place to be.
I never thought I was that kind of woman, a tattletale, an informer, a snitch. They say snitches get stitches or end up in ditches or something. I hope not. I really don’t have time for this ridiculous mess. But I don’t really have a choice. I’m a single black woman and I have to protect myself no matter how tough I think I am. It doesn’t really matter now. What’s done is done.
David can get mad if he wants to. I did it so it’s done. It is, what it is. I just want to get the hell out of here, go home and take a long soothing hot bubble bath. I want to chill out and relax, play me some Mary J. and read a good book. Not any of that romance garbage. I need a heavy dose of reality. I can’t deal with that fantasy crap with the perfect men acting all perfect and chivalrous. That shit ain’t real.
I stepped into the elevator trying hard to run the hell out of this stale building. I thought I was alone but a tall white man ducked into the elevator behind me like
The Flash
. He whisked himself right in between the closing doors making them reopen.
He startled me. He was so damn tall. I was so frazzled that I forgot to push my floors button. What the hell was my floors button? Seeing my ex-boyfriend parked outside my condo on several occasions made me a nervous wreck. I just didn’t know what to do with myself and that’s why I was here in the first place. I really and truly didn’t know what to do with his odd behavior. He took our breakup hard but he was doing this stalker thing and I was too over this, us.
I was a little scared too. He had me shook. I knew he carried a gun. He grew up in one those neighborhoods were everybody carried a gun. I was so grateful my girl Tangie told me to go to the police. I would never try to get any black man in trouble with the law but he was taking it too far. It’s been two months. We’re done.
Shit, the button! The elevator doors closed completely.
His deep voice hit me like a ton of bricks. It knocked me into the reality that I was in the elevator.
“What floor?” I looked up and over at the man covering the silver panel that held the elevator buttons.
“One.” My voice came out little and mousy compared to his profound bass filled vocals.
“Ground.” He corrected as he glanced over at me. He raised one blonde eyebrow and made me feel weird, like I couldn’t read. He hit the G button. He knew exactly what I meant, smart-ass.
I noticed his sunny blonde hair. He had blue eyes I think. He was dressed really nice even though he only was wearing dark washed jeans and a charcoal gray shirt. Stop staring Nina. Ground, I mocked his usage of that one word. He ain’t all that. Ha, yeah he is. I smiled inside. He was hashtag fine, hashtag sexy, hashtag white-hot.
“You smell delicious.” He groaned like he was talking to himself. I looked up and over at him to make sure he wasn’t talking on his cell. No cell. No earbuds. No blue-tooth. He was glaring at me with those blue things he probably calls eyes. Yes lord, they are so blue, almost white.
“Excuse me.” My words came out a little more ghetto than I hoped.
He cleared his throat and snapped out of his trance.
“Shit, did I say that out loud?” He said all proper. Was he talking to himself or me? He was looking at me. He was grinning from ear to ear. He had a dimple. Damn! For real?
“I’m sorry. My thoughts just came right out of my mouth. I had only planned on saying what floor.”
“Okay.” I rolled my eyes. That was the hardest, coldest eye roll I hard in my repertoire of eye rolls. If he was going to make me feel uncomfortable I was going to throw it right back at his tall ass.
“You do…smell delicious.” He crossed his hands over his chest, which brought attention to his pecs. I could see a lot of definition under that fabric. He must live at the gym.
“Great.” I smirked. Why was he smiling so hard? His face is going to break.
“Are you married to a cop?” He removed both his hands from his chest and pushed them in his jeans pockets. My eyes followed and I got a glance at his crotch before I stopped myself. I think he did that on purpose to make me look at his nether region. No, that’s stupid. Why would he do that?
“No, I am not married to a cop.” Damn this elevator ride is long.
“Why are you here? I know you’re not a criminal.”
Nosey ass. “What are you doing here?” I snapped and reigned in my hardcore black woman attitude.
“Visiting a friend in homicide. We went to high school together. He’s a detective”
“Great.”
Mr. Blonde man’s eyes drifted down to my cleavage. Damn him, his cheek dimple popped out. Shit, I think there are two of them. Shit! He got two dimples. Well I be damned.
DING! We made it to the ground level. Thank god. My cell buzzed in my purse as soon as the elevator doors parted.
He extended his hand to the door. So I could leave the small space first. How gallant. I believe his wife is lucky. I can’t see his ring finger. Even if he’s an asshole he is sure good to look at.
“Delicious smelling ladies go first.”
I couldn’t help but to crack a smile. He’s so smooth. He’s smooth like a brother. I wonder what he looks like naked. No, I don’t. Yeah I do. Nina stop acting so slutty. He’s probably married; he’s too fine to be single.
I wouldn’t be surprised if that huge gray Mercedes out there belongs to him. His shoes look expensive. I was glad I had my expensive handbag on my shoulder. Times like this made six hundred dollars worth it. There was something about Mr. Blonde that could make the average person feel like a pauper. But today I feel like a sharp, bad bitch. So his dimples and those icy blue eyes don’t mean a thing to me.
I stepped out the elevator and into the lobby. I found a corner to check my cell phone’s missed call. I looked back to see that Dimples had moseyed out the automatic double doors.
I dug in my purse for my sunglasses. The sun was blazing out this afternoon. I put on my shades and dialed my girl Tangie back.
“Hey Tangie.”
“What happened?” Her voice was a bit static but I could hear her to some degree.
“I just filled out the necessary paperwork to be filed with the county clerk.”
“That’s good girl. I don’t trust that fool. He’s probably been watching you the whole time and you just didn’t know it.”
“I think so too. Weird things would happen to me for no reason. Now I’m wondering if that was David? I sometimes felt like someone had been inside my house.”
“Get your locks changed.”
“I already called someone. They’re coming to change the locks in the morning.”