Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) (17 page)

Alex looking at the other two faces smiles and says, “We would love to.” Koya and Grace nod in agreement with grins twisting their lips.

Not wanting to point out her state of debt, I nod again. I’ll just try and finish the book so I could buy most of those things for her as gifts. Perhaps, that’s also the thought the others have too. If so, then that shopping trip seems more enjoyable now, helping a friend in need. “I’d definitely like that.”

Savannah looks around the table, eyes connecting with each person. He eyes lock with mine before they move unto Tracey. “I like you. Even though a week ago, I didn’t know you and thought you were a harlot, I like you.”

Tracey’s brows mash together in a frown. “Harlot?”

Savannah’s head tilt to one side. “Yeah? Isn’t that what the Bible calls them? Harlots, floozies, wenches, streetwalkers, adulterers, adulteresses?”

Widened eyes and a mock glare meets Grace from Alex. “Imagine that. Grace knows what the Bible is.”

“Hey! They made us go to church at the group home. I’m familiar with the book. I just don’t agree with the lock it puts on my sexuality without a ‘husband’ beside me.”

Lydia shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s a lock. More like a way to prevent unnecessary heartbreak, diseases and problems such as those. The book covers quite a few logical points.”

Smiling Alex nods at Lydia, before turning to Grace. ““I don’t think that’s the problem Mrs McGowan. Gra–”

“Alex, please. Lydia. Call me Lydia.”

Alex nods with a smile. “The problem is Grace doesn’t want to recognize anything that says ‘Savannah shouldn’t have sex tonight, especially since she doesn’t know John’s Public’s name’. Right, Grace?”

Savannah’s chin tilts up. “Most of them tell me their names. I think. If I don’t recall a name, the person attached to the name is most likely not good enough for recollection. If you catch my drift.” Grace winks at Alex.

“Uh huh, and this is the lifestyle you want me to adopt because it’s ‘freeing’?”

A slow, sly grin shadows Grace’s face. “Hmmm, especially when you are locked under a great Mr Right Now’.”

“As much as I wish for this conversation to continue, let’s move on to safer, more palatable waters. What’s up with you Max? I see Tracey here, but I’m sure neither your father nor I understand exactly what this means.”

Feeling light or free from his burdens, I’m not sure but Max starts drinking a little more wine than what I’m used to seeing.

Max opens his mouth and all that escapes are the spilling of information private and once concealed, leaving Tracey to hang her head as she listens to him spilling her pregnancy despite being married to another.

Max was either abnormally stupid or being deliberately obtuse. Too obtuse to grasp the implications of his behaviour. He really is an incorrigibly petulant man.

If no one knew of Tracey’s situation, the mere words being laid out against her would put her as Grace put it, a harlot.

“I think it’s time all secrets are laid out. Not just mine –Sam’s and Jodi’s too”

“Sam and Jodi are married, Max. Everyone knows that.”

Can anyone else besides Sam in this family keep a secret? It’s clear that Sam’s sexual orientation is the only secret that’s being held.

Lydia, Koya and Peter adopt masks of anger and displeasure, narrowing their eyes and wrinkling their foreheads in like manner.

“No. Another thing –”

Eyes wide, Sam rapidly shakes his head at Max. “Max don’t. I’ll tell her.” Turning to me, shoulders slumped, he takes my hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not gay, Jodi. It was just a front.”

A thousand bricks. A thousand bricks being hurled in rapid succession would be better than this. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not ga–”

The word barely left in a whisper. “What?” I don’t understand. Where did it go so horribly wrong?

“Jodi, I’m so, so sorry. I lied. I’m not gay, bi-sexual or anything like that. I’m straight. I’m sorry.”

“B– but– I specifically asked for gays. I wanted someone gay. Grace said no lines would be crossed. B– but– you crossed them all. How- The poster said gay!” I don’t understand. Where did it go so horribly wrong?

“Posting adverts don’t necessarily mean you will get everything you want, Jodi.” Alex looks at me and I can hear the ‘I told you so’ being screamed at me.

As sharp and incisive as the stroke of a fang, the truth sinks further into me, bleeding me dry of all clarity I had mere minutes ago.

Sam lets loose strange sounds that nobody can understand. He often jokes even when he appears serious. However, this time there is no mirth, no funnies, just life. Real life.

“Why Sam?”

Max doesn’t give Sam the chance to respond and quickly adds. “It was a dare. When we saw Grace posting the ad, we knew I couldn’t do it. Grace knew I was dating someone at the time so that wouldn’t work. So I dared Sam to take on the challenge.”

The soft susurrus of conversation gets interrupted by loud, angry shouts from me.

“A dare?! A dare, Sam?! A damn dare?! Crap?! That’s what I am? A dare?”

“No! It was supposed to be only one night. One night and it should’ve been over!” Sam’s hands engage his hair in a vice grip. “You weren’t supposed to become my wife. You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be wonderful and kind and sweet. I mean what person like you advertises for a man?”

Savannah snorts as Alex rolls her eyes. I try to forget them. Forget that my pain, humiliation and heartbreak are laid out for all to see. “So you made assumptions about me based on my actions.”

Sam nods, his eyes clouding over with unshed tears. “Yes, but you have to believe me as soon as I met you and started talking to you, I tried to get Max to forget the bet. Even at the reunion, I practically begged him to forget about it.”

“Is that what you were doing in the bathroom at the reunion?”

Again Sam nods.

Looking between Max and Sam, I say, “What would it cost if you were to forfeit the bet?”

Max answers instead. “He would have to wear a diaper to work for a week. Nothing but a diaper and eat all his meals from a baby bottle.”

Sam’s hands fall to his side as he releases a heavy breath, looks down at his empty plate and whispers. “I wasn’t supposed to love you. But it happened and I don’t want to change it. Yes, I should’ve told you. But how do you tell the one person who has ever made you feel terrified and alive and fearless at the same time, something that would hurt them? I couldn’t do it. Every time I wanted to say the words, they wouldn’t come.”

The muffled tones of a broken heart summoned my scorn. “How can I believe a word coming out your mouth when you’ve lied to me all this time? I can’t, Sam. As much as I love you I can’t.”

Sam reaches inside his blazer and takes out an envelope I’ve seen him with a couple times before. He lays it on the table half-way between me and him.

“You want to know what is in the envelope? There it is. My heart on paper. The words I’ve wanted to say for weeks now but couldn’t. So I wrote them down, instead. If that proves nothing, then there’s nothing else I can do. Excuse me.”

As soon as Sam moves from the table, I stand. Instead of moving to him, I stare. Stare at the anger, dejection and rejection laid out for me. I stare at Sam’s back as he retreats upstairs his parent’s house.

It would have been laughable if it hadn’t hurt so much. Fooled by the one person I pledged my life to, irrespective of the initial reasons behind the vows, they became serious and concrete to me.

This will be the last time I make this declaration I’m sure. Today is surely the worst day of my life.

The problem with this declaration, however is that there is no humour or mirth for me. I’m the laughingstock now. Sam made me into a jester, a clown.

Sam’s face wrinkles in a silent laugh of derision as I snort in contempt. “You’re sorry? No Sam. I’m sorry.”

From the tone of the conversation and glares, frowns and glowers being passed over the dining table, I gather that I’m outstaying my welcome.

So standing from the table, heart thumping wildly, I walked out of the house, head held higher than it should be.

In a lucid moment in this madness, I see the beauty and tranquillity of the night mocks at my personal turmoil. A turmoil snowballing and blooming because of an impromptu and unnecessary decision. The decision to join Sam in his blatant and poorly constructed fables and lies. The decision to start this whole mess. That’s the point of origin if I were to be completely honest with myself. Sam is just an effect from the poor reason I constructed in defending an even poorer decision.

Looking up into the evening sky, I notice I’ve missed the rainbow. If there was one. Even with all the wishes in the world that rainbow could provide, though nothing could change these circumstances.

Looking back at the house that has all my friends and family in this world, I wonder how stupid they must think I am. If I am to be honest, despite his words, all Sam’s actions reflect the truth. At no point in time did Sam pull off a gay man’s act. Problem is, to my rue, this error cost him the game.

Alex and Grace will know that I don’t want anyone near me right now, so I get about 48 hours to harden my heart and truly say goodbye.

So I did the right thing in that moment.

I say goodbye to a man and future, I lost before it was mine.

[16]

Best Worst Day of my Life: Number Sixteen

After two weeks after Sam’s ‘un-gay-ing’, back into the closet party, I still feel no better than I did in that moment. The saving Grace is that I no longer think I should commit murder, by convincing myself that it would be a victimless crime.

I’m now at stage brokenness in grief. I’ve convinced myself that Sam’s broken promises broke my spirit. Problem is, I can’t recall Sam making any promises to me. So that just makes my mood even crappier when I can’t pinpoint and nail down his exact crime.

The one thing I do remember is Sam and I saying ‘I love you’s’ for the first time mid confession and apologies. In my head, those don’t count. Even though I can still recall with perfect clarity Sam’s voice inflections, the dejection and panic flickering on his face as he confessed.

I keep trying to convince myself that Sam told such a horrible lie, it could’ve been the end of the world. Time and Karma though, the bitches they are, keep reducing the significance of Sam’s crime against me and humanity. I don’t like them much anymore and will continue to have a standoffish relationship with them if they are hell bent on screwing me over like this.

Another set of backstabbers I have to deal with is Alex and Grace. ‘Chicks before dicks’ obviously means nothing to them and I’ll forever ignore their calls, texts, drop-bys, come bys, fly bys and just keep it at bye. Who would’ve thought that Alex would be the first to figure out Sam wasn’t gay? Even before Grace? And to top it off ‘
understands his apprehensions
’? And Grace, backstabber #2, no #1, keeps reminding me of every lie, fib, fable, tale, cock-and-bull story we’ve come up with to save our hides.

I blame Grace mostly for this predicament, though. You know the one where I’m in love with a once gay guy, who I wished to be straight, and when I found out he was straight I ran from him? Yeah. I blame Grace. She knew Sam for years. How could she not know? I don’t care if they had a strictly professional relationship before me. I don’t care that they hardly spent time with each other unless necessary. I don’t care that she never once saw him with anyone outside friends or his brother. I just don’t care because I blame Grace.

I knew Alex and Grace liked Sam, for whatever crappy reason, but since when did he replace me in our friendship? Well, of course he didn’t but I can still hold on to my anger a little longer, can’t I? Am I not entitled?

Looking over the last two weeks, I’ve shunned everything and everyone even remotely associated with the man Sam. The reality is though, I miss them. Terribly. I want everything to go back to the way it was when we had fun, when we had each other. When I had Sam.

Sam. To be honest, I’ve forgiven him. I don’t even know why, but I have. Must be that stupid thing called love. But being a prideful coward, I refuse to let him or anyone know. I want him back and everything in this crappy apartment keeps reminding me of that bastard. My bastard. My sweet, cuddly, cute, loving bastard. Sounds like a dang puppy. But again Sam broke me, so this is his fault too.

Feeling annoyed and restless, I head to my office to write out my feelings. I sit down and start scribbling notes on a paper, funnelling whatever comes to mind. This is something I’ve always found calming. Especially post Sam. Or pre Sam again. The more I write, the more words come willingly, joining those that are already written to make a cohesive unit. A chapter.

I switch on my laptop and continue from there. Fingers taking orders from brain, speedily spits out what it commands. Refusing to take a break, I type until the early fingers of dawn reach through the curtains to say good morning.

I stop for a second to appreciate the sight only to realize I’m at chapter 22. The ending. Only the ending doesn’t want to materialize. It doesn’t want to write itself, it now wants me to take over the job.

“I realized I was falling in love with you since the first day we met CasJodi. I kept thinking I liked you. That like grew into something much more and I’m not willing to let it go. I would be foolish to let it go. I won’t get this chance again, I can tell. I’ll never meet someone else like you, I don’t want to. I’ve wanted you from the first moment you hired me and then...”

And then what, I thought…

Oh, what the hell. That seems too soppy. Even for me.

I take a break before my brain becomes empty, void of the words I need to fill the screen, to express myself. This book will be finished soon, anyway. There are still ten more days.

Ten more days. With that realization, the words come slamming back into me. The words leave my fingertips with such rhythmmic intensity that their meaning and importance could not be denied.

Completed, I embrace what I write. Owning it, fuelling it with my compassionate passion. My story. Tweaked.

Only this is not just my story. I write the ending I want as well. The ending where I right my sordid lies and twisted unclaimed reality. A reality I need to feel whole again. The ending where Patricia, unconsciously, gets written out somewhere. My happily ever after finally comes. If only through words to be printed on paper and viewed on screens.

I type chapter one to the story and quickly hit send before I lose the nerves I steeled to get it done. I don’t even edit.

Heading into work the following morning, I step into the lobby to see Alex and Grace sitting there. I try to tiptoe past them, but since there’s a straight path to the bank of elevators and the seats are close to the security post, I wasn’t surprised when I failed.

“Jodi, we see you. The turnstile is a poor choice to hide behind.”

I huff and look over to see Alex’s arms crossed while Grace glares at me.

With an upturned chin, I cross my arms and barely turn to acknowledge the two. “Yes? How may I help you today, Alex?”

“Look, we get it. We
all
get it. You were mad, upset, pissed off. But I dare you to continue acting like a coward and spoilt brat. I didn’t raise you like that. How can you honestly expect me to fault someone for loving you so much and being scared of the lie they told when they didn’t know you? Come on, Jodi, act like you got some sense. I know that’s hard for you sometimes, but your moaning and griping period is over. Woman up, pull on your big girl panties and I’ll see you at my place later. I know where you work and live. Don’t make Grace drag you there.

“Six o’clock, Jodi. I’ve missed two weeks of girl’s night because of this mess. I told you Sam was an idiot, but he’s
your
idiot. You’re stuck with him, so deal with it. At least for the next 16 months. But I know you. You want to feel vindicated. Apologized to over and over until you give in. Well guess what, you get none of that this time if you’re not at my place later. By the way, Koya and Tracey are joining the party. Again six, Jodi. Okay, that’s everything. Mini rant over. I love you baby girl.”

Alex and Grace pull me into a tight hug as Grace whispers, “Ditto.”

I pull back, sniffling and swatting the stray tears. “I love you too, guys. By the way, how could you ‘raise’ me when we are the same age, Alex?”

“Yes, but I’m the most mature, so that makes me older.”

Savannah smirks. “Just so you know, when I know you are ready, I’m helping Sam to get you back. At least one of us deserves to get the happiness that belongs to us.”

I smile in appreciation. “Thank you. Grace, Tracey can’t drink alcohol so get her some juice okay?”

“Ugh! Do I have to? Can’t she just, I don’t know, water down the liquor or something?”

Alex and I in perfect and well-timed synchronization say, “No!”

Savannah rolls her eyes before they brighten and spark in glee. “By the way, did you hear about what happened to Patricia?”

Looking between them both I assume this will be bad news. For whom, I’m not sure. “No?”

Alex scoffs at Grace as she turns to me. “She got demoted then fired. That’s all.”

I usher them out of the way to stand beside a palm looking plant in the corner of the lobby. “How’d you find that out?”

Savannah’s smile widens. “Dave.”

“Who?”

After an exaggerated sigh, Grace says, “Dave? Wig Man? We’re Facebook buddies now. He’s now the new Vice President of Marketing. Apparently, a lot of his work has always wound up in Patricia’s presentations before he could even finish them. She got demoted for that.”

My face scrunches up. “But I thought you said she got fired just now.”

“Sam you just wait. You are ruining my storytelling.”

Feeling a slow smile that builds as the surprise sinks in, my handbag knocks me in the chest as my hand swings to cover my heart. “More? No! Wait, Does she know about what we did?”

Adopting a perfect posture by squaring her shoulders, Grace tosses her hair blonde curls back as a smug smile eases onto her face. “Of course she does. I asked Dave to say hello on our behalf. Dave said she lost it at the mention of our names. With the letter Alex sent, they found that we weren’t the only ones being blackmailed by the almighty Patricia. Most of it on company time using company resources and funds. For that, Patricia was fired.”

Grabbing hold of Alex, I say. “No way!” Hearing my voice echoing around the lobby, I wince and whisper, “Like are you serious, what is she, The Joker of the city?”

“Even better. Remember the emails Manuel found on Kamal’s phone? Apparently she hates you and by extension us, because you had the ‘perfect family life growing up’. I don’t know why, but she said that and I quote ‘that bitch kept rubbing my nose in her stupid, perfect little family. Taunting and reminding me that my father ran off with some whore.’”

A half-hearted shrug answers my unvoiced question. “That was why she tried to trounce you in high school, because everything came too easy for you.”

My glance darts around, looking for humour between the two people in front of me. I open and close my mouth several times before forming words. “What? Did she forget who my parents were?
No one
in school envied me for those two people. They embarrassed me at every turn!”

“Well, I don’t know, but she practically gave her life story to Kamal in those emails. Yours and hers, really.” Grace bumps my shoulder. “Are you okay? You don’t seem so excited about the downfall of the
Great Patricia.
”

I stare at Grace a little longer before sighing. “I should be jumping off the roof, right? I don’t know, but somehow, Patricia and anything she does no longer bothers me. Come to think of it, I haven’t thought about her in a while. Not since ‘Savannah’s Seven’, actually.” I look at Grace and Alex again. “This feels weird but the only thing I’m thinking about is– Wi– that man.”

Lifting single brow, Alex says, “So high school is finally over?”

I smile and nod. “High school is over.”

Savannah cocks an eyebrow and lets a smile spread. “So, you want Sam back.”

Hanging my head in half-assed shame, I say, “Yeah. But I can’t let him know that I’ve forgiven him yet. He should suffer a bit longer. I’m letting him stew. He has to pay for that lie.”

Alex shakes her head and laughs. “You, my dear Jodi, were born to hold a grudge.”

I lift my chin and a single brow. “Dang right.”

Alex looks at her watch. “Look I have to run sweetie, but we’ll see you later, yes?”

I nod and grab them for another hug before I move to continue the day. “Later, guys.”

________________

My agent calls me a couple days later, congratulating me on ‘a beautiful, moving masterpiece of our time’.

That takes it too far; even I know that my work wasn’t
that
good. What? Did I transform into Shakespeare or J K Rowling or something? Pssh. As if.

No one else agreed with my assessment of my novel, and I was proven wrong at every turn. After my novel was published, which I titled
Rented Adonis
, the reviews started flooding in about it. It was on every best-selling list soon afterwards. I was invited to countless writing workshops (I don’t know what I said to them really). I’ve gone to uncountable book signings and book tours.

There are talks of a movie. I’m still outweighing the cost of my sanity against seeing my stupidity up on the big screen. So far, it doesn’t look good for the movie. It would be well acted by prettier versions of the people who partook in my scheme willingly or unknowingly.