Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) (7 page)

Sam drops his head, shaking it slowly. Sam stops to look at me and starts laughing. He laughs, hard, before I join him.

We sit there joking and laughing at how ridiculous the situation is: a single, straight female and a single, gay male pretending to be married for the sole reason of impressing the female’s high school nemesis. The only part he’s unaware of is that all the while the straight female yearns for the gay male.

This couldn’t be more irresponsible, outrageous and nonsensical than if Hollywood wrote this part of my life. You just can’t make this stuff up.

Life is really stranger than fiction.

Unfortunately I’m the recipient of such a life. Or did I receive a perfect life and because of my nuances and apprehensions and proclivities, mess it up? Surely the heavens didn’t plan each lie we told tonight. Right?

After laughing for what seems like an hour, we gather our wits and decide to head home, with Sam joining me.

As soon as the door closes, I turn to Sam who is already heading to the kitchen. I set the coffee pot to brew knowing it’s going to be a long night.

“So, what’s the plan?”

[
7
]

Season Seven of Deceit

“Are you sure?” Sam asks with a right tilt of the head.

Sighing I say, “Yes, Sam, we’ll tell everyone tomorrow. I would do it tonight, but I want to go through this dinner in one piece. I just don’t want to be seeing Patricia’s face when I sit in my crap. You know, postpone humiliation for a day. I’m a big believer in procrastination after all.”

“Alright, then. Since you’re sure.” Sam stretches over my shoulder to ring the doorbell. The heat from his body warming me on this already warm summer evening.

“Yeah. Telling your parents in front of Patricia is like giving her an unscratched winning lottery ticket. There’s no way–”

The door flies open even before the doorbell stops ringing after the second buzz. Koya grabs me into the foyer, pulls in for a short hug then releases for small talk and pleasantries.

Standing on the top front step, Sam turns his body a full 180 degrees, flips imaginary hair from his eyes and squeaks out in a wanna-be female voice, “Please come in o’ favourite, big brother.”

Well, he won’t be winning awards any time soon for copying his siblings.

Sam swings his body to the original position on the front step and responds to his own statement, using his own voice, “Oh, thank you so much wonderful, little sister.”

“Is there anything I could do for you today, big brother?” Again Sam assumes Koya’s assumed mannerisms.

“You are too kind. Thank you for the offer. I Sam let you know,” Sam enters and closes the door and then half shouts, “That’s how this was supposed to go, Koya!”

Koya scoffs, turns to the kitchen, her hold firm on my wrist, effectively ignoring Sam.

“Whatever Sam,” Koya pauses in her journey, turns to me with crossed arms and squinted eyes, “Please tell your husband he’s being ignored. If you weren’t at the door, he’d still be standing outside.” Koya drawls each word as she fixes Sam with an icy, detached gaze.

There’s that word ‘husband’. Is it so wrong to really want that to be true? Quite obvious Koya believes we are really married. Would it be really that bad if I want the marriage to be real? Not just for show and tell, but real as in I love him, he loves me. I am already in lust, love can’t be too far behind. Right? Beside, for all the crap, I’ve gone through in my dating life, I deserve someone hot a hell at the end of it all. A pot at the end of a rainbow, a cooling touch at the dawn of each morning, a rock hard… Just stop. Calm down and switch gears.

I wonder if Koya feels left out of her brothers’ ‘weddings’. I know I would.

What’s that saying ‘fake it till you make it.’ That’s starting to sound tempting. We could do the deed until he’s freed.

And hopefully along the way Sam plants a seed.

Dang, I’m getting good at this. I’ll be the first romance author/ rapper of this generation. No. no, that’s downright stupid

When we are finally in the kitchen, a delectable smell coming from the oven is a thing that can’t be explained. There is such a unique mix of smells and flavours in my mind that it’s kind of hard to figure out what Lydia is preparing. There’s chicken, cheese, several spices mingling in the air, and… what is that? The more I sniff, however, the more the scent of cleaners, bleach, hot oil, excessive sweetness from overripe banana in the fruit bowl and the 'wet soil smell' from watered basil, oregano and parsley sitting on the window sill flows to me.

I blush and draw back into Sam’s side when I notice Lydia cocking her head to the side watching me sniff at her kitchen.

Everyone except Patricia and Max are gathered in the kitchen, giving me time to note my surroundings. Their kitchen belongs in a high class restaurant –all stainless and marble. It should feel cold, but it doesn’t. I guess the bright green and orange accents infuse warmth into the room, as well as the well-used pots, pans, family calendar and free flowing laughter. Obvious repeated scrubbings have given the wood a silvery shine throughout the parts of the home I’ve seen. Somehow it still blends seamlessly in a house with old English cottage warmth. This seems to complement the hunger –inducing aromas wafting through the space.

Lydia offers us all a drink. I take red wine, Koya white and the men beers. I’ll need a buzz to withstand Patricia tonight.

We settle into easy conversation, talking about things of no consequence. How the weather seems to be at odds with the season –being cooler than it should, whatever games were on last night and the reasons for their losses and wins and how to ensure Sam holds on to me.

Koya and I finish the tossed garden salad, while sipping the second glass of wine. Lydia pulls out the mac and cheese and what looks like Mom’s oven fried chicken and puts them in the warming draw. It smells different from my Mom’s version though.

Note to self: a warming draw –I need one of those. What for? Not quite sure just yet. I just know I want one.

Just as Peter pulls out his phone to check on Max and Patricia, the doorbell rings. Time to face the beast.

Patricia enters as if she’s like the lady of the house, looking radiant as ever. That sunny yellow dress moulds and highlights all curves; every dip and each rise in her figure. Introductions and pleasantries are exchanged as we head to the dining room to conclude ‘A Disastrous Weekend’ staring me.

Wanting to limit my time in Patricia’s presence, I offer Lydia assistance in bringing the meal to the table.

“So, Patricia, is it?”

Couldn’t you delay this introduction Peter? You just said grace! I’d like some time to enjoy the meal. I’ll be certain to get indigestion, now.

“Yes, yes it is.” Patricia answers with a beautiful and conniving smile.

“So tell us about yourself, Pat.” Lydia leans forward awaiting Patricia’s response.

Oh, Lydia, you know not what you do.

Patricia narrows her eyes then answers with a smile and a left shoulder shrug, “Oh, what can I say, darling, I am well. Life is perfect. As you know Max and I are now married,” She quickly thrusts her left hand to the middle of the table, putting on display, her ‘wedding ring’, “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Again with that borrowed accent.

“Hmm, big. How much did that cost, Max?” Koya sneers, with a half-smile.

“Oh, not that much, did it sweetie? Besides, a girl deserves the best. You’ll soon understand the feeling.”

“Can’t talk for yourself anymore now, Max?” Koya presses her lips tightly, with a half-hidden frown.

“That’s just something couples do, you’ll understand one day, dearie. Oh, Sandra,” Why me, Lord? “I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you say Chad was your boyfriend if you were already married?”

“Chad?” Peter, Lydia and Koya utter in three synchronised, confused voices.

“I’ll tell you guys later. Actually, Sandra wanted you to have the night for yourself. Didn’t want to rain on your parade and all that. She thought you deserved a win.”

“Rain on my parade, me deserve a win?” Patricia scoffs as if what Sam says is ludicrous and preposterous. I have to agree with her there.

“I’m sure Sandra hasn’t forgotten I am the Vice President of Marketing for S T & P Marketing and Advertising Agency –the most prestigious marketing firm in the country. She’s still struggling to make ends meet at that –that little job being a secretary or something.

“I thought you wrote ‘Permanent Interruptions’.”

“I did. I have a–”

Patricia continues, “Oh, please, what you got from that, a few hundred dollars?”

That’s laughable, only that jab hurts too much.

“I’d be disappointed if that’s all you got, Sandra. Koya keeps quoting it every chance she gets and we Sam be starting it for book club next week.” Lydia’s kind smile says ‘ignore her’.

Sam smiles at me, squeezes my hand as I struggle to maintain the fragile facade of nonchalance.

I open my mouth to respond when I hear Koya speaking.

“Quite a catch you have there, Max.” Koya gives a thumbs up and sarcasm literally drips from each word.

“Aah, thank you darling. That means the world to me.” Patricia’s words sincere. No one can be that oblivious.

“More than a catch, you’re everything to me, honey.”

“Aah, baby. That reminds me, you may have grandchildren on the horizon, Mom and Dad. Well, that is if I get someone like Sandra here to be my surrogate. You know someone who already has stretch marks and bad skin. It’s too early in my career to be carrying children don’t you think?” She says seeking an answer in earnest.

Patricia’s conceited assumption of universal interest in her rather dull life is ridiculous.

“Isn’t she a hoot?”

At the moment, Max has the wild farcical exuberance of a clown, without the humour.

I scan the table to see four sets of varying shades of brown eyes stare at Patricia bearing slack jaws and fixed stares.

‘Yes, people, Patricia Simpleton is very real. She’s not a figment of your collective imagination’, I want to confirm but don’t.

Instead, I start gorging myself in the oven fried chicken which makes Mom’s taste like sautéed cardboard in dirt sauce. If she were still alive, I’d have to hide this fact from her. Dad would’ve lied to her face to make her feel like the world’s top chef from the classiest five star restaurant out there. God knows how much I miss them. Three years without them suddenly feels too long. I need to visit their graves soon.

Still bitter, Koya restarts the conversation after the break to study Patricia’s existence. “Such a coincidence that you both got married within what, a week of each other, isn’t it Max?”

“Yes, it really is a surprise we both got married so quickly.” Max throws me a humourless wink, with a smile stuck to his face; a wink of warning.

“We need a proper wedding ceremony,” Lydia shuffles in her seat. “We could make it a double seeing that I missed yours and Max’s and they are so close to each other.”

“No, Mom, that’s why we went to Vegas.” Sam responds in agitation.

“Ok, at least let me throw a reception, you can’t deny your mother that.”

Crap!

“Alright, why not?” Sam’s tight-lipped smile goes unnoticed by everyone except me and Max.

“More good news, Lyddie. This family has a lot of upcoming celebrations.”

“More? What’s the other good news? You’re getting married, Koya?” Sam eyes widen at the last question.

“No! I’m not an imbecile like you two.”

“Koya.” The warning evident in Lydia’s tone.

“Well they are. Who gets married without family being present?”

“That’s their choice,” Lydia says with a warm smile, “When it’s your time, we’ll throw the biggest bash ever. Continue dear.” she says to Peter.

Peter clears his throat, “As you know I’ve wanted to step down from CEO for quite some time. Now I can.” His grin returns.

“I thought you were doing that in a year anyway.”

“No, Max, I’m doing so this month–end. The problem was with you two, but now that’s fixed, I’m free.” Peter is enjoying himself with whatever information he is yet to disclose.

“I’m not following.”

“Me neither.” Sam joins Max’s state of confusion furrowing his brows.

“I’m lost as well, Dad.”

“I’ve been waiting for at least one of you to get married, but both –that’s even better. I talked to John and signed the papers this morning. You and Max need to give him copies of the marriage certificates by the end of this week. The business Sam be yours 30/30/30 and I’ll be truly free. Your mom and I are keeping 10 per cent.”

“Uh… what?”

Max chimes in tilting his head to Sam. “Yeah, what he said.”

“See, I knew you should have talked to them before. Always so impulsive, Peter.”

“Who’s John?”

Max responds from across the table. “Our lawyer.” It’s clear I didn’t whisper, although I thought I did. Sam’s eyes close, fingers massaging his temple.

“Umm… what if weren’t married, would we still get the business then?” Max asks scratching his neck while giving a stilted laugh.

“No. Your father drafted the incorporating documents so that anyone unmarried cannot be a managing director. I thought it stupid and antiquated when he did it, but you two continue to prove me wrong. We were thinking time would run out on us.”