Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) (4 page)

“Oh. We’re here. They’ve got great... everything as far as I’m concerned. But Mom says I eat everything, so fair warning.”

“Here? But it looks Asian. That’s why I’ve never been here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they realise. So are you going to try it or should we head for a pizza?”

“Well, I have a policy to try anything at least once. So let’s go.”

**

Sam put down his fork and wiped his mouth before swirling the red wine in his glass. “So, now that were both full shall we resume our conversation?”

“Full? I feel like an overstuffed turkey. And what conversation?”

“I need to know what I’m up against, here, Ms Pennington. I have nothing solid to go on. From the poster to our short phone conversation and even now in person, you’ve been…vague. I need to prepare if I’m to take this job.”

“Call me Jodi. Ms Pennington is unnecessary. And just know that she’s a horrible person.”

“Yet that says nothing to me. Horrible could range from Hitler to childhood games you consider as life-ending.”

“You doubt me. Alright, here’s something juicy. Pardon the pun.”

At Sam’s raised eyebrow, I smiled and said, “You’ll get it in a minute. I can’t believe I’m telling this story. Only three people I’ve ever told this to and one is dead.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Hold that thought. You’re not easily grossed out are you?”

“As long as I’m not required to eat something that has maggots or still alive I’m good.”

My brows scrunched as I tried to comprehend why he would assume he’d be required to eat anything. I waved away the thought and launched into the most embarrassing story of my life.

“For Patricia’s twelfth birthday party, thanks to her mom’s connections, it was at this fancy resort hotel. I don’t remember the name even though it was my first time in such a place. What I do remember is this: we had the pool all to ourselves, with pedicures, and sparkling juice in champagne flutes.

“But of course, the like hours before the party, I got my period. It was only the second time I’d had it, and I’d never even brought any pads with me because Mom calculated I had a week more to go, so I was in the safe zone. So I sucked up my pride and embarrassment and tracked down Patricia’s mom. As usual, she was drinking but was still lucid enough to help. Me, being a twelve year old, inexperienced child stuck the pad right in my swimsuit and hopped in the pool. I didn’t even notice it came unstuck and was hanging out of my bath suit until Patricia started shrieking and pointing, “Oh good heavens, what is that?!”

Cue half the girls screaming ‘Jodi’s on the rag! Gross!’ For three years after that, Patricia called me Raggedy Ann-”

“Ann?”

“My middle name.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Sam dropped back in his seat to stare at me for a few moments before clasping his hand over the dinner plates.

“Well if it’s any consolation, my older brother stuffed my bag with tampons in freshmman year- high school- when I snitched about him having a girl sleeping over a few times in his room. In the middle of the hallway when I opened my bag to get my books, all these tampons came spilling out like they wouldn’t stop. I still don’t think anyone forgot about that. No, go ahead. You can laugh. I think that was his best prank.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t imagine what you must’ve been thinking. Or feeling.”

“That was the day I decided I had only one sibling. My little sister. I ignored him for months. He thanked me and apologized when the girl turned up pregnant, though. Wasn’t his. But I think that sobered him up when he realised it could’ve been him.”

“Now you know the deviousness that is Patricia. But instead of her getting more mature as the years go by, she only heightens to a new level of devilry on each birthday.”

“But you were just children. Surely, yo-”

“I won a trip to Jamaica we were all clamouring for in sophomore year at college. I thought I won that round as Patricia had to stay behind. But no, I celebrated way too early because she snagged my boyfriend and gloated for the rest of the year. So, no, I can’t pardon and excuse her because she was a child when I was too.”

After dinner, Sam offered to take the short walk with me back to my apartment.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. Why not? I guess we need to get comfortable enough around each other and know something besides favourite colours and what we do for work.”

“So, six?”

“So six it is Mr McGowan.”

[4]

Or Four Points for Karma?

I step out of Sam’s car, him holding my elbow ensuring I don’t entangle my feet and fall. Just so I don’t fall. Nothing more to it, Sandra. This is for my stability and his reputation.

So why then do my palms feel so damp? Breathe and then let go. Thank heavens it’s night, my blotchy cheeks should be at least partly hidden by shadows and low lighting.

His navy blue attire blends into a sea of well–dressed actors, critiques and theatregoers. I need to update my wardrobe if this is what normal people dress like.

Only when looking up, I realize to what I agreed. A play, ‘Come Hither With Me’ in which he stars alongside Grace. This looks like opening night.

There’s quite a crowd here already although first performances rarely start before seven. He manoeuvres the growing crowd introducing his brother, Max and a few other theatre actors I’ve met at one point or another through Grace.

He leans in close to my left ear “I have to go backstage to get ready, but I reserved a seat for you up front.” His mischievous grin appears as if summoned for an appointment. “You are in the second row. I thought you’d appreciate that since you shy away from the spotlight.”

“A–afraid of the spotlight?” When did I become a topic of discussion? “I’m not afraid, just hate it. The background is more my scene. I like blending in, not standing out. It has something to do with my spinelessness, I believe.” Head tilting to the left to think, I discover the culprit in my life. “Grace said that, didn’t she? That blabbermouth! I should have her sign a NDA for all future get togethers.”

Triumph joins the mischief in his grin. “Actually, you just told on yourself. I noticed you chose a seat closer to the back of the restaurant last night. On your way home, you practically dodged every streetlamp. I would’ve understood if you weren’t this attractive, but who knows, make-up does wonders sometimes.” The teasing smile on his lips sends my blood to a boiling point.

“Ha, ha. Go on already. Don’t blame me if you turn up late around there.”

“Oh, but I Sam blame you. I’m sane after all. Can’t expect me to shoulder the blame alone. The least I could do is spread the blame around, but because I’m smart, it has to fall on someone else. You, sweetheart, are the perfect candidate.” Sam kisses my cheek and then turns to enter stage left.

Waving him off, I go to hunt for my seat. I sit, finding myself beside two people who both looking like older and younger versions of the same person. Unlike the man’s sandy blond shade on my left, the women both have wavy brunette hair nearing black, or maybe it’s due to the lighting.

The faces though are the same heart-shapes holding darker shades to Sam’s set of milk chocolate eyes. The same button noses and fuller lips bearing the same shade of bright red lipstick are presented on both faces. The exception is that one set of lips says ‘demure’, the other says ‘come if you dare’.

The man, however, looks like an older version of both Sam and his brother Max. All having that sharply angled jawline set on an oval base and straight noses. Although Sam and Max’s nose look like they’ve taken a few hits. Max’s eyes are the same as the woman’s though, while Sam apparently inherited the milk chocolate colour from his father.

I can’t believe that bastard put me in the middle of his family. Doesn’t he remember who I am, what we are supposed to be doing? Did he forget that Saturday is a one-time deal, no cords attached and when it’s over, it’s over?

Here I am trying to get it out my head that I can’t be with him and he puts me right smack in the middle of these people whose last name I wish to share.

I should say I’m his girlfriend. That’ll teach him.

Or prove that I’m certifiable. Let’s claim being the non-platonic girlfriend to a gay man– yeah right. That’s a one-way ticket to Crazy Town. Population– me.

The lights go out. A hush breathes through the audience. The curtain rises. There is never a moment so pregnant with anticipation as the opening scene of a play. The audience, primed and ready, wants to believe and if given the opportunity Willingly immerses itself for the story’s duration. Only if the performance falters Sam the audience boo, hiss, and may well leave the theatre. With me leading that cue.

Gritting my teeth, I glare at Sam at his first appearance on stage. Sam’s performance, however, ebbs at my anger and within minutes, the anger’s gone, forgotten. He grips the attention of the audience and doesn’t let go. Sam drives our emotions as if he’s handling a steering wheel, commanding where he wants the audience to go. My interest in the play engrosses me completely.

Joshua McAllen and Jackson Worthers, you have met your match. To hell with you, both of you. Ooh, my very own McAllen brother. Pshh, and they say I'm not lucky. I’ve touched him and if given the chance I’d do a little more than touching too.

Mind out the swamp and unto the stage, Sandra.

While watching Sam, Grace’s performance sneaks up on me as well. Grace delivers a riveting act. Her performance is like a bright light which engulfs me entirely. Like a sponge, I have no options but to soak up each line as it falls from her lips. Grace delivers each emotion with a punch or a caress, ensuring the audience captures and understands what is being felt.

Throughout the play, not a single cough, shuffle or noise is heard. We sit. Silent. Paying attention as if part of something reverent. The break is an unwelcomed intrusion to the performance.

At the end of the play, the audience gives a full standing ovation. Well-deserved and earned by the actors on stage, who transform and become the characters they are portraying. In that moment I decide to start accepting invitations from Grace to plays once more. It’s obvious I’ve been cheating myself.

Sam’s family and the rest of the audience split up and I search for Grace to give her the best hug I have in me.

Furrowed brows greet me. “How are you here? I didn’t get you a ticket.”

“Your co-star, Sam. I think he’s the one to come with me on Saturday too.”

“Sam? Hmm.”

“Why, ‘hmm’? Something wrong with him? Is he crazy?”

“Huh? No, no. He’s cool, a good guy. It’s just that, well–”

“Well, what?”

“I didn’t peg him as gay. Granted, I’ve never seen him with a woman, except a fellow actor or his family, but,” Grace sighs, “I guess all the good ones are either taken or taken.”

“Oh, good. I was rather sceptical as I’ve never done this whole thing before. I guess I’m glad he took me here tonight, too. A way to get to know him before the big day comes.”

“Wait up. So you can accept his tickets but not mine?”

“Grace, please. Besides, I didn’t know I would be here tonight. He asked me out, I said yes, and this is where he took me. I promise I’ll start accepting tickets to your shows. Pinkie swear.”

“Fine, you’re forgiven. But seriously Sandra, the bride’s maid dress? What is wrong with you?!”

“I had nothing else to wear! Like I said: I didn’t know I would be here tonight.”

Grace’s brows furrows and her hands find her hips. “Sam didn’t say anything? Just said get ready and takes you here?”

“Well… he kinda did, but I sorta didn’t hear. I was too busy drooling and as dinner went on I forgot to ask. When he reminded me after walking me home I was too embarrassed to ask at that point.”

Grace looks me over, shakes her head and exhales sharply. “Anyway. So… did you enjoy it?” She asks, apprehension and nerves swallowing her words.

“Are you kidding me? That was perfection! It was better than anything I’ve ever seen. Better than a lot of those award winners! You were sensational and Sam, oh, he was superb! Oh, I’m coming back, I have to. Do you have tickets for tomorrow night?” The more refined attendees of the night keep glancing in my direction.

“Well, thank you. That means a lot,” Sam’s deep, sensual timbre comes floating in my ears as he embraces me in a side hug. “And no, I just heard that tickets are sold-out for the rest of the week. Tommy Sam have to get his shit together to handle that because I can’t return until Sunday anyway.”

Ah, crap. This man smells too good. Being as discrete as possible, I step out of his arm. Sam quirks his head looking at me with furrowed brows.

“I ask because of what happened the last time, Sandra.”

“What happened?” Inquisitive Sam rises again.

I give Grace a pointed glance, which she brushes off. “Nothing happened. This is not important. Moving on. Ho–”

“Nothing happened, my foot. Sandra fell asleep during my recital! She didn’t even get halfway through!” She turns to stare me down, challenging me to deny it.

Fixing grace with a pointed stare this time, I say, “I was tired.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t boring as you said two years ago? Was that the reason you were snoring so loudly then, being tired?” She turns back to Sam before she continues, “They had to increase the volume in my mic just so I could be heard.”

Sam was stifling his laughter and failing miserably at this point.

I didn’t see the joke. I was tired, and it was boring as hell. It was like she was lulling me to sleep. There was no choice but to comply.

“And I wasn’t snoring, I had a condition.”

“Sam, avoid this one when bedtime comes,” Thumb cocked from the right hand she points at me. “You’ll think a freight train is coming in the bed, in the middle of the night.”

When Sam turns to look at me, my face firmly delivers the message to move on from the topic.

Smothering a smile, Sam says, “Alright, let’s get some food. I’m starving.”

“Where are we going?” I didn’t realize it was a dinner theatre.

“Dinner was arranged at Repas La Belle to celebrate opening night. Most of the gang should be there already.” Grace's stomach announces itself at the mention of food and we all take that as a sign to leave.

Arriving at the restaurant about ten minutes later, we are ushered out through the back patio doors to join directors, producers, behind the scenes staff, actors and their invitees. Looking around, I am shocked to see the transformed landscape. The space looks like an informal barbeque with a view of a waterfall flowing into a pond. The patio looks nothing like the private space for upscale dinner parties that are often held here. Fairy lights hang low enough to add to the manufactured atmosphere, but still high enough so that Sam could easily pass under.

Picnic style tables are arranged to facilitate easy conversation while still seating dinner guests in comfort. Candles flicker on the tables and the lights were nicely dim.

We walk over to the buffet table with steaming trays of food and fall in line with the other attendees, engaging in small talk and light conversations along the way. After piling dinner on our plates, our small group goes to join his brother and remaining family.

“Mom, Dad, Koya, this is Sandra. Sandra, these are my parents, Mr and Mrs McGowan and my younger sister. You already know Max, my older brother.” Sam makes the introductions as soon as we sit.

“Hi, everyone. My name is Sandra Pennington, this is one of my best friends Grace Cameron. So nice to meet you all.”

‘I’m also the girlfriend to your gay son.’ Can’t a girl dream?

A server approaches. The lawn grass silences the noise of his shoes, as he carries a basket that smells like a bakery's oven. My stomach rolls in anticipation.

A round of introductions from each family member ends with me knowing perhaps too much about people I’ll never see again.

Max and Sam are set to take over their father’s construction company within the year. The acting provides an outlet for their creativity with side jobs as a bonus. Their ‘real jobs’ according to their father, is at the company during the days. Their available nights are spent at the theatre.

Lydia and Peter, Sam’s parents, are planning a three month trip to Europe after Peter’s retirement. Lydia is a retired lawyer and in the later years mostly did pro bono work. They are thinking of selling their family home. Both boys object, but Koya sees it as practical as ‘no one Sam live in it in a year’s time.’ Lydia and Peter are contemplating whether to sell it before or after their stay in Europe. The general consensus is that it stays until their return.

Koya is in the last year of college earning a degree in architecture. She sees the degree as a way to expand the range of services offered by her parents’ company. She plans to take a few marketing courses to sharpen the image and marketability of the firm, instead of hiring a marketing firm. Too bad, I have a few ideas on how to better market the company.