Things Liars Fake (#ThreeLittleLies #3)
Things Liars Fake
a #ThreeLittleLies novella
Copyright © 2015 by Sara Ney
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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“E
veryone raise your glasses in a toast,” I announce around the high-top bar table, hoisting my wine glass in the air and encouraging the friends we have gathered to do the same. Clearing my throat, I begin. “To Tabitha: the author friend we’re here to celebrate! She worked her ass off for many years to get to this point. She took a risk and left her job to write full-time and is proudly publishing her
second—yes second!
romance novel.” I put a hand next to my mouth and address our small group in a hushed tone as if I’m telling them a naughty bit of gossip. “And even though she kept it a secret from us at the beginning, we’re all so proud of her.”
Beside me, Tabitha groans loudly among the laughter.
I continue. “Her first book has been in the top 100 for nine weeks and we expect the second to do just as well because my best friend is a wordsmithing genius.”
“We are so proud of you!” our friend Samantha shouts.
“So proud!” Greyson—who is dating Tabitha’s brother—echoes, raising her glass higher. “Seriously Tab, we’re so excited for you… even though you used my
brother
as a muse for your second novel, which I cannot get past.” Grey gives a shudder. “Especially where the characters finally do the deed. Did it have to be so descriptive? All I could do was picture my brother and you—horrifying. I will never be able to un-read that scene, and for that I will forever be ungrateful.”
My best friend Tabitha, laughs, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but we all know the best ideas imitate real life.”
I roll my eyes and lower my glass. “But do we have to
know
about it? Honestly. The visuals we could have lived without.” Even though her boyfriend Collin is a complete hottie with a hot bod and killer smile whom none of us, if forced, would mind picturing naked in the sack. But of course, I can’t say that shit out loud.
That would be tacky.
Tabitha has the decency to blush. Her hands go up in defeat. “I swear I only used Collin to form the male character! I didn’t use our
relationship
to plot the book!”
She can’t even look us in the eye when she says it, the liar.
We all stare and Samantha’s expression clearly asks ‘
who
are you trying to kid right now
?’ “You expect people to believe that? The entire second book is about two people who meet at a store; that’s you. Then they bump into each other at a party. You. Then he finds out her secret. Also you. You, you, and you.
Your
story. Just admit it so we can finish toasting your success.”
A dreamy smile crosses Tabitha’s face. “Fine. I admit it. I was falling in love with him, so yes—I might not have done it on
purpose
, but it
is
our story.”
“
Finally
. Now, as we were saying: here’s to Tabitha, who we all knew would do something spectacular. Thank you for proving us right. We love you and are so proud. Cheers!”
“Cheers to Tabby!”
“Hey,” Bridget—an old college roommate in town for the weekend—cuts in. “When do we get to
see
this famous love letter we keep hearing about?”
She’s referring to the love letter that my best friend’s boyfriend wrote her during a rough patch while they were dating. Tabitha has never shown it to anyone, but did reference it in her new book.
Which, of course, made us all curious.
Tabitha throws her head back, and face palms herself. “Oh crap. I forgot I put that in my book.” She laughs the kind of laugh that makes a guy like Collin fall in love with you and write you love letters. Light and airy and full of humor. “Sorry, ladies. The contents of said letter are private.”
“Is it dirty?” Greyson wrinkles her nose. “Please say no.”
“No! It’s sweet. Ugh, just the sweetest. Maybe someday I’ll let you read it, but for now I’m keeping it to myself.”
“Damn you and your secrets!” I complain. “I showed you the poem Kyle Hammond wrote me last year.”
Half the table groans out loud, and Bridget smirks. “Are you
kidding
me right now? First of all, Kyle Hammond is a stalker that works in your office. Secondly, he plagiarized that poem off the internet. Third, it wasn’t a love poem; it was a poem about a man’s love affair with a married woman.”
I scoff indignantly. “It’s the thought that counts.”
“He’s just so adorable I can hardly stand it,” Tabitha sighs into her wine glass.
“Who, Kyle?”
“Collin,” my best friend sighs again in a daydream, resting her elbows on the bar table.
“Collin? Adorable?” Greyson laughs. “Okay, yeah—my brother is somewhat good looking. But I also remember he and his friends back in high school doing some pretty stupid crap, like toilet papering their friend’s houses and leaving dead animals on the front porch that they found on the side of the road. Gross.”
“What!” Samantha sputters, pausing with a wine glass halfway to her lips. “Wait.
What
?”
Greyson nods with authority. “Yup, Road Kill Cafe. He and his hockey buddies would use it as their calling card when they’d go TP someone’s house. Anything they found on the side of the road, they’d take and put on someone’s porch.”
“That’s so totally disgusting I need to chug this,” Bridget adds, lifting her wine glass and pointing it in Tabitha’s direction. “You kiss that mouth.”
Greyson continues. “Skunks, opossums, squirrels; basically anything dead on the side of the road. Like, who
does
that?”
“I don’t even know if I can drink any more of this,” Bridget wrinkles her nose and stares down into her wine glass. “I think I just lost my appetite.”
“Don’t say you’ve lost your appetite, because I’m starving.” Tabitha successfully changes the subject, head swiveling around in search of a menu. “I think this place serves food. We should order something.”
My stomach and I grumble at the same time. “It probably only serves bird food to go with this wine. Like cheese and dry fruit and crap.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll just order double.”
Not seeing a menu, I hop down off my stool and dash to the bar to fetch one, returning with a few and setting them in the middle of the table. “Have at it ladies.”
I crack one open. “Okay, this looks good: brie wedge and warm raspberry compote.”
“Let’s also do the artichoke dip, and the bruschetta.”
Bridget rubs her hands together gleefully. “Yes and yes. And look, they have crab cakes, but you only get three, so we’ll have to order two.”
“We’re going to look like slobs,” I say, closing the menu and signaling the bartender with the flick of a wrist in the air, eying our round table dubiously. “Is this table big enough for all this food?”
“Do you care?”
I shrug, the pretty lavender scoop neck sweater I’m wearing falling down off my shoulder. “Well,
no
…”
Samantha pokes me with the corner of a menu. “Because I don’t see any guys here about to sweep you off your single feet. We’re free to do as we please. This is girl’s night.”
Disgruntled, I wrinkle my nose. “You’re all either engaged or in serious relationships. Being single sucks. Must you point out my deficiencies?”
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t my point! I’m just saying…”