Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) (16 page)

By the end of Tracey’s mini speech, we are all bawling. Well, the females. Sam and Max looks at us as if they are concerned for our mental states.

I must admit, I didn’t start this day, thinking of Tracey as the prime benefactor of my decisions and actions. However, hearing such gratitude over something my friends and I jumped head first into without a second thought makes me realize how lucky I am to be a recipient of such selfless love.

Tracey doesn’t come off as the socialite who name drops and flaunts her well-known personal connections and deliberately displays wealth to reassert importance. She comes off as a regular human, with their own struggles, trying to figure out life as they go along. Pity her family isn’t the same way.

Perhaps that’s why we have all adopted her into our makeshift family. And when we can’t stand each other, we are just a group of friends.

Now all we need to do is get rid of her husband– Kamal Jamison.

That should be as easy as taking tea from a coffee addict. He may be cruel but he isn’t known to be the brightest crayon in the box.

[15]

Fifteen Ends with Liar?

“Are you sure about this? He’s your student, Alex. And what we’re doing isn’t exactly legal. I can’t believe you are endorsing such a crime.”

“Yeah, I know. Look at it this way, though. Sam we ever get rid of Patricia otherwise?”

“Yeah, but he’s your student. Doesn’t this violate some, teacher-student rule or code of conduct or something?”

“Jodi shut up! I’m already on the edge here. You badgering me about the illegality and immorality of my actions isn’t exactly making me feel better.”

“I’m sorry I’m just worried about the repercussions. Apparently there are consequences to one’s actions. Who knew?”

“Who knew? I knew. I’ve been telling you and Grace for years you can’t do stuff without thinking what it can cost you!”

“So did you think about what this will cost you if you get caught?”

“Yes, but I’ll be okay. You and Grace will support me in anything until she can find a nice sugar daddy for me. Besides, he thinks he being some sort of vigilante, fighting against the power and what not.”

“I’m glad your plans are straightened out.”

“So where is Grace by the way? She should be out by now, right?”

I was just thinking the same thing. Sliding up in my seat to get a better view of the police station, my chest by fortune or misfortune presses against the horn blowing our undercover stealth. Crap!

“Jodi, come on. Is your conscience trying to get us caught?”

“More like that bitch called Karma.”

“Oh here she comes.”

Alex eagerly opens the back door for Grace. “So?”

Savannah hands over the phone to Manuel. “I got it. If he weren’t Tracey’s soon to be ex though, I’d give him a night. That would definitely make up for the fact that a perfect Saturday night is being wasted right now in this car with you guys.”

“Your night isn’t being wasted. This has to be one of the most productive nights of your year so far. Are you almost done, Manuel? I need to get you home, before your mom calls.”

“Yes, Ms Scott. Just need to finish this update and that will be all. There are some emails from Ms Simpleton here as well, do you want me to forward those to you, Ms Scott?”

“Forward and then delete them from his end.”

“Alright I’m done. You can return the phone Ms Grace.”

Savannah’s brows lift. “Already? You’re good. This is just as exciting as Ocean’s 11. I’m still iffy about 12 but 13 is also good.”

Alex snorts as I roll my eyes.

Manuel beams under the compliment. “Thank you Ms Grace. Any time you need anything let me know. Officer Jamison killed my friend’s uncle three years ago at a cousin’s birthday party so anything to mess with him will be my pleasure.”

Alex smiles at her student. A motherly smile. “Thank you Manuel. Headphones back on.”

Manuel nods and slip on his headphones once more.

I send Grace a pointed look. “Be careful Grace.”

Closing the door behind her, Grace says. “Two minutes, darling. I’ll be in and out in a jiffy.”

“See. I think this is doing Manuel some form of good. The anger he has bottled up toward Jamison needs release. This is one way for that to release.”

“Trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Mostly me.”

“I think with all this running around we need to unwind.”

“My same thoughts.” Alex sighs. “Jodi, I sent an email to Patricia’s boss last today.”

“What, why?”

“As much as she is a pain in the ass that’s not why I’m doing this. She can’t keep running around hell bent on destroying people’s lives. I sent snippets of the bribery against Max and Tracey. Nothing to confirm their identities. It’s to let the company know that she had every intention of misusing the company’s assets, again, to further her revenge.”

“Okay, so what did they say?”

“That they’re looking into it.”

“Okay, then so I guess that’s the end of that.”

_____________

A soft log blocks my usual bed revolutions. I groan and cuddle closer to the log. The sweet smelling log. I sigh, get up and go to the bathroom to get ready for the day, only to stop en route remembering that today is Sunday. Sunday. I’m putting a ban on all activities before 12 pm. I’m declaring today as Nation Jodi Limited Movement Day. Yup, bed it is.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Absolutely awful.”

“So just toast then?”

“I don’t think I could stomach it” I say rolling unto my back. “I don’t think I could stomach anything. I’m too exhausted to eat.”

“That’s what happens when your age catches up with you.”

“Please remember you’re older than I am, grandpa.”

Sam’s laugh lingers behind after the man leaves the room. A couple minutes later, his voice reenters the bedroom. “Here try this.”

Sitting up I take a sip from the cup to realize I’m drinking coffee, with no milk or sugar. In other words I’m drinking coffee water. I down the bitter liquid to see Sam’s outstretched hand. I hand over the cup at the same time Sam asks “How much did you drink last night?”

“Not much. I’m not hungover. At least not because of alcohol. I drank two glasses the entire night.” I shuffle on the bed to start my toast and jam. “But I’m feeling washed out. What’s surprising is that I can’t remember much of last night anyway.”

Sam sits on the bed and looks me over. “You look fine to me. Maybe you really are just tired. Think you can make it to dinner this evening?”

“Sure. I’m planning on sleeping only half the day. I need to do laundry when I get up, anyway.”
“I was looking forward to those blueberry pancakes this morning. You have to make it up to me tomorrow.”

Sam pulls out the comics from the newspaper before setting the rest aside. He must be the only man in America who still pays for the printed version of antiquated information.

When did I get such an idyllic spot in life? Breakfast brought to me in bed. A husband who likes spending time with me and does so quite often. A solid family like the one I lost. Maintaining two solid friendships and gaining quite a few more. A really good job, a nice home made even nicer because said husband improved upon it. And now we are both sitting in bed, inches from each other, engaged in our own thoughts and activities, but are available for the other when needs be.

For some reason I can’t help but to think that this is a borrowed scene from a perfect book or well written movie. People like me don’t usually get such perfect happiness.

Now if only I could actually write two sentences in my book then my perfect circle of happiness would be complete.

Sam and I spend the next few hours pretending to watch tv, eating junk, trying to outdo the other in the most stupid or ridiculous jokes possible and dabbling in one, then two mini make-out sessions. Two was cut short by an attack of conscience. Stupid conscience.

Sam and I need to have a solid conversation on what this new state in our marriage means for us. Since uncovering that Sam is bi-sexual, makeout sessions were cut to the bare basics and I need a clear head and mind if things should go any further. Hopefully we’ll get to that point soon.

“Jodi! It’s been an hour since you said to give you twenty minutes. Come on!”

“I’m coming. Two minutes and I’m out.”

“Max is going to at all the cookies. You’ll owe me cookies and pancakes if they’re all done when we get there.”

“No problem. I’m ready by the way.”

“Good! Come on, let’s go!”

“Wait my purse.”

Sam groans as he stands in the open doorway, ushering me out.

On our way to Sam’s parents the rain starts. No heavy, but not quite so light either. Rain is a logical expectation, given the time of year, but somehow its imposing presence is simply unwanted.

Dashing out the car to head up to the steps I grab Sam’s ever present blue, yellow and red umbrella to join him at the driver’s side. There is something celebratory and freeing and happy about the two of us, running up the steps under the soft beat of water against the flimsy polka dotted umbrella. For anyone watching it would seem as if we were escaping a dreadful storm and not running right into the heart of a struggle.

I love making wishes on rainbows. I hope I see one today to cast a wish and a thank you for all the fitting puzzle pieces in my life.

We enter to the usual greeting smiles, hugs and how do you do’s, before moving into the kitchen.

I can hear the rain falling outside the tasty home. Its loud, heavy drops, dulling on the roof. Standing by the kitchen window, I can see the sand gathering on the bottom of the limpid pool.

There’s a paperweight sitting on my happiness and I’m unsure of it is. Nothing my brain conjures up explains this feeling.

I turn around just in time to see Sam walking towards me. A sly, wolfish smile pasted unto his face as he stops centimetres from my body and utters in a low, seducing tone. “I’m experiencing a rapacious appetite, and it’s not for this food.”

A matching smile moves unto my face. “And what am I to do with that information?”

He moves even closer. His breath, scent tasting on my lips. “Do what you wish. I’m thinking of engaging in a bit of sensual pleasure in about an hour from now. After we get home, that is.”

“Music is the only sensual pleasure without vice, Mr McGowan. Am I to assume that is the pleasure to which you are referring?”

“Only if the virtue of the music isn’t quite as chaste as I’m listening to right now.”

“Oh, but virtues are quite valuable and treasured in almost everything I know. Why would you want your music to be anything less?”

“Virtue isn’t quite so valuable to me, when it’s more of a hindrance than a benefit. I like some things to be a bit less pure, less inhibited.”

“Sounds as if you think virtues are handcuff to raw desire.”

“Handcuff? Hmmm… now that thought is quite promising.”

“Mr McGowan, are yo–”

The absurd predicament of seeming to argue that virtue is highly desirable but intensely unpleasant was cut short by Max tapping Sam’s shoulder.

“Listen, dinner is ready and we would all appreciate it if you both could keep it in your pants until you get home. The sight of you is sickening.” Moving away Max groans louder than is necessary.

Red stains every inch of skin from neck up. “Oh, crap! Sam!”

“What? Wasn’t like you weren’t enjoying yourself?”

I slap his shoulder. “This is neither the time nor the place to be enjoying ourselves. This is your parents’ house. We are here for dinner. Nothing else. This isn’t time for enjoyment.”

“Oh. Well I guess I should let them know how awful you find their company. Mo–”

My hand over his mouth prevents him from completing his statement. “Don’t you dare! Now come. Even Alex and Grace are already seated.”

Savannah bats her lashes and clasps her hand under her chin. “Oh how lovely of you to Grace us lowly folks with your presence.”

Sam tugs on my hand. “Have I told you Alex is my favourite?”

“That’s only because Grace is annoying you right now.”

Seated we all start digging in and complementing Lydia on the chicken stew, glazed carrots and potatoes and stir fried vegetable. The cheesecake was literally the topping of the meal.

“Tracey, that is a really cute blouse. Cool colours.”

“Thanks. It’s Sarah’s.”

Why is she wearing someone else’s clothes? She has enough money to spend for a blouse, doesn’t she? Is she broke? Is that why she’s with Max? Even with her unconventional size, she could snag any wealthy bachelor to fit into her life in the society.

Not wanting to voice my concerns, I simply say, “Oh, well I like it. Do you know how much she paid for it?”

Tracey looks at me with wide eyes, and says slower than normal, “It’s Sarah’s. Sarah Burton. As in Princess Kate, Sarah Burton? She made Kate’s dress?”

I nod in understanding. Maybe it’s her cousin’s blouse. I used to borrow clothes from Alex when we were in college. That’s no problem. “Oh, yeah. Sarah.”

Tracey cocks her head and looks at me once more before saying, “Maybe we’ll go on a shopping trip one day, soon. I’ll need quite a few things for the coming months anyway. Alex, Koya, Grace you could come with us. If you’d like I mean.”