Authors: Tara Bond
“Yeah.” I spoke with exaggerated seriousness. “We should totally do that. Maybe go for dinner and a movie. We could hold hands and everything.”
“Huh?”
It took all my willpower not to laugh at his obvious confusion. It was clearly his looks rather than his quick wit that had attracted me last night.
“Look,” I said as I wriggled into a denim miniskirt and pulled on the cleanest white tank top I could find, “let's not pretend last night was anything other than what it was. We got drunk, I invited you back here and we shagged. To be perfectly honest, I can't remember much about the whole evening, but I'm guessing that we both got what we wanted out of it. So, as far as I see it, that's pretty much the end of our involvement.”
I couldn't help enjoying the look of astonishment on his face. He obviously wasn't used to the women he bedded behaving this way.
“So, you're saying you're happy with what went on last night. You don't want anything else?”
Ten out of ten for catching on so quickly. I'd obviously picked up the equivalent of a dumb blonde.
“That's exactly what I'm saying,” I said with exaggerated patience.
He looked at me with the kind of undisguised admiration that should be saved for whoever cures cancer. “You know something? You're a really cool girl.”
“Yeah? My parents will be so proud.”
I reached for my biker boots, my footwear of choice, but then noted the sun streaming through the Velux windows that lined the ceiling. It was late September, but it looked more like mid-summer, and so I slipped on a slightly grubby pair of cream pumps instead. I dug through the pockets of the jeans I'd had on last night, found my purse and keys, and chucked them into the busted-up, faux leather bag I took everywhere.
“Help yourself to tea, coffee, and whatever we have in the fridge,” I said, as I made my way out the door. It was meant to be a good exit line, but it seemed to throw Gavin even further.
“What? You mean, you don't mind me staying here once you've gone? That's a bit trusting of you.”
“Not really. If you even think about disturbing my flatmate, she'll stab you in the eye, and”âI gave a pointed glance round the roomâ“if you can find something worth
stealing in here, then you're more than welcome to it.”
The intercom sounded then, Richard's way of letting me know that my five minutes were up. I popped briefly into the bathroom, deciding he'd rather I took the time to brush my teeth and gargle some mouthwash than have me breathing stale alcohol fumes all over him for the two-hour drive.
Once I'd finished, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror above the sink. Panda eyes stared back at me. Why couldn't I ever remember to take my makeup off? I ran a hand through my bleached hair. I was still getting used to it. I changed the colour every few weeksâI'd been everything from bright pink to ebony-black. Platinum-blonde wouldn't have been my choice, but I'd told Lindsay to surprise me, and she had. If my skin had been more tanned, maybe it would have looked tartierâbut the white-blonde against my Casper the Friendly Ghost colouring gave me an emo, edgy look, and made my eyes look an even more unnatural cornflower-blue than usual.
A wave of exhaustion washed over me, which had nothing to do with how little sleep I'd got last night. I so wasn't prepared for this dayâlunch with my parents and one hundred of their closest colleagues and friends. I can just imagine my mother's face when she sees meâher troublemaking youngest daughter, the university dropout who works in a barâturning up hung-over and in a ridiculously tiny miniskirt, amongst a sea of overachievers in floral dresses and suits.
Ah, being the black sheep of the family was always a fun role to play.
I took a deep breath, mentally shaking myself out of my moment of self-pity. Then I grabbed face wipes and stuffed them in my bag, sprayed on a liberal amount of deodorant that I feared still wouldn't mask the smell of fags and booze, and headed downstairs to see what the dreaded day would bring.
About the Author
Photograph by Sheila Burnett
Tara Bond grew up in Surrey, England. She read history at Cambridge University before working in various sensible office jobs. She lives in London with her husband and loves reading and writing, as well as watching movies and TV box sets. Her guilty pleasures are cocktails and chocolate desserts.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Tara Bond
A slightly different version of this work was originally published in 2015 in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bond, Tara.
Beautiful liar : a novel / Tara Bond.
    pages cm.
1. Young womenâFiction. 2. FamiliesâFiction. 3. Love stories. I. Title.
PR6108.Y53843Â Â Â 2015
823'.92âdc23
2015019815
ISBN 978-1-4516-9687-5