All the Pretty Lies (5 page)

Less than an hour later, I’m climbing into
the passenger side seat of Sarah’s truck.

“Good gawd, couldn’t you find anything with
bigger tires?” I gripe as I struggle to pull myself through the
door.

“I’m a country girl. It’s what we country
girls do.”

“I’m a country girl, too, and I don’t have a
big-ass truck.”

“That’s because your dad doesn’t think a lady
ought to drive a truck.”

She shifts into gear and zooms away from the
curb. She’s got me there. That’s precisely what my dad thinks.

“Like he knows. I think he just googled ‘how
to be a lady’ when Mom died and took bits and pieces from every
article he could find and foisted it all on me.”

Sarah turns her curly blonde head and narrows
her black-lined, powder-blue eyes on me. “You’re probably right,
but he still did a good job with you. You’re a lady, that’s for
sure.”

“Maybe I’m tired of being a lady.”

She grins. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’
about!”

I laugh. “I think you’re enjoying my
rebellion more than I am.”

“Oh, I’m enjoying it all right.
Finally…
finally
we get to live a little.”

“You could’ve been living all this time.”

“And leave my best friend behind? Not a
chance.”

“You’re all talk. You weren’t gonna do
anything
until I did it first.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Hey, I’m not the virgin here.”

“No, but I didn’t see
you
getting a
tattoo.”

“That’s not my idea of wild. Besides, look
how that turned out.”

“What do you mean? It hasn’t ‘turned out’ at
all yet. I just haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”

“Yes, you have. You just won’t admit it.”

“Won’t admit what?”

“That you’re too chicken shit to go back in
there and put him to the test.”

“I’m not too chicken shit. I’m just giving it
some time.”

“Time to what? Ferment? This is sex, not
wine, Sloane.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing. What happened to all this
‘spread my wings’ and ‘seize the day’ and ‘no regrets’ shit?”

“Nothing happened to it. It’s just that…I
mean, he asked me to leave. It’s not easy to come back after
something like that.”

“Look, you are gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re
funny as hell and you’ve got a kick-ass rack. What’s not to love?
Trust me. You just turn on that smile and you’ll have this guy on
his knees.”

“No offense, but I don’t think that’ll work
with him. I mean, he’s not like the other guys around here.”

“He’s a man. He thinks with his dick. As long
as you keep that in mind, you’re golden.”

“You should put that on a mug.”

“I know. I’m like a modern day
Confucius.”

“If Confucius was full of random wisdom
involving penises.”

“How do you know he wasn’t?”

“You make a good point.”

“Now, stop changing the subject. When are you
gonna go back in there and get him to finish you up? And then
‘finish you up’?” Sarah snorts at her cleverness. I shake my head,
but I can’t hide my smile.

“I don’t know. But I will.” I turn to stare
out the window for a few seconds before it occurs to me. “Why are
you so interested in my virginity anyway?”

“It goes against nature for a girl to reach
the ripe old age of twenty-one and still be a virgin. Something
like that could disrupt the space-time continuum. Before we know
it, there are earthquakes all over the place, volcanoes are
disappearing, cave men are popping up in bars.”

“This isn’t
Land of the Lost,
Sarah.”

“But it could be. This is just me doing my
part for the good of mankind.”

“Wow, I never considered that the state of my
hymen might be of interest to the world at large.”

“I know. So innocent. So clueless. That’s why
I’m here, sweet child,” she says peacefully. “I’ll be your
guide.”

I shake my head. “This can’t be good. You get
lost in the parking lot at the grocery store.”

“Hey! That happened one time.”

“And that was one too many.”

“Shut up, whore!”

“Not a chance, slut.” We grin at each other.
Such is the banter between me and my best friend.

********

I’m antsy. I knew this would happen. I’ve
felt this way every evening since the last time I saw Hemi. I asked
Sarah if she wanted to do something tonight, but she had already
made plans with her on again-off again boyfriend, Todd. And as
pathetic as it is,
she
is pretty much the extent of my
plans. When she’s got something else to do, I stay at home. I
usually draw. Or read. But for some reason, neither of those
activities appeal to me tonight.

It’s not like it’s some random, mysterious
“reason.” I know
exactly
what the reason is. Or, rather,
who
the reason is.

Hemi.

I want to go back, but something is stopping
me. Maybe I was secretly hoping he’d call me, that he’d change his
mind and seek me out. Every woman wants to be chased, right? Right.
And I mean, my phone number is listed on the release form. But he
hasn’t called, hasn’t chased. He made his position clear and he’s
sticking to it.

Maybe I should, too.

For the hundredth time, I glance at the clock
on my nightstand. Hopping off the bed, I start stripping off my
lounge clothes. “That’s it,” I tell the silence in my room. “I’m
not sitting around here thinking about him for one more night.” Ten
minutes later, I’m dressed in jeans and a BULLDOGS t-shirt, in my
car, heading toward Cuff’s. There are many ways to live and I’ve
got many things to prove. Tonight, my focus will be my obtuse
family. Maybe if I can make some headway in that department, my
confidence will get the boost it needs to propel me back to
Hemi’s.

When I walk into the bar that my brothers
have gone on and on and on about for years, my initial reaction is
less than earth shattering. I’m not impressed. It’s just a noisy,
crowded bar, like any other. Only this one, I happen to know, is
frequented by local law enforcement.

If I didn’t already know that, I’d never
guess. No one is in uniform. As I look around, I just see a bunch
of guys dressed in regular clothes, drinking and laughing and
slapping each other on the back.

The one thing I
do
notice is the
marked lack of women. I mean, there are a few scattered here and
there, but it’s not like other places where the ratio is more
female-heavy. At least it looks like that on TV. No, this one looks
more like a gay bar with a few beards thrown in for good
measure.

I scan the hundreds of faces, looking for a
familiar one. Considering their crazy schedules and need to
decompress after a long shift, I figure at least one of my brothers
will be here. Maybe even my dad, too.

And I’m not wrong.

Over near the pool tables, I see a dark blond
head pop up. I recognize Steven immediately. He stands a good two
or three inches taller than everyone else around him. He’s not as
tall as Sig and Dad, but he’s a big guy at six-four. Makes him easy
to spot in a crowd. That and his naturally-streaked hair—dark blond
with a few pale highlights. Nobody knows where he gets his light
hair. Mom used to say that what darkness missed his head went
straight to his eyes. Rather than our dark brown eyes, Steven’s
eyes are almost black. Like onyx. As a cop, they give him an edge.
He can be pretty intimidating when he turns them on you, especially
if he’s unhappy. It’s almost enough to give
me
a chill, and
I know he’d never hurt me. I can only imagine how criminals must
feel.

Turning toward the bar, I slide in between
two men and wait to be served.

When the burly bartender spots me, he lumbers
down to me and asks in his scratchy voice, “I.D.?” Proudly, I take
out my driver’s license and hold it up for him to see. He examines
it closely, looks at my face, and then studies my card again. In a
cop bar, no doubt he feels the need to be extra careful. Finally,
he nods. “What’ll you have?”

I order a rum and Coke (one of the few drinks
I know
how
to order). He nods and ambles off. I smile. That
felt good. Very mature. Very independent. I’ve only ever sipped a
beer or two in my life. Dad made sure I never really got a chance
to do much in the way of rebelling. Or breaking the law. But now
I’m of age. And no one can stop me. Not even my father. Or my
brothers. And I’m here to show them exactly that.

A couple of minutes later, the bartender
slides me my drink. I hand him a ten, casually, as if I’ve done it
a million times. He looks at it and I wonder briefly if I’ve made a
mistake. I thought surely that would be enough to cover the drink
and a tip. But maybe I was wrong.

“Want change?”

Inwardly, I sigh in relief. “No, you keep
it.”

He grunts and I pick up my drink and squeeze
back out from between the two men.

Now for the hard part…

I square my shoulders, take a deep breath,
and head for the pool tables. Before I can get there, I big hand
clamps down on my shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I turn to see Sig glowering down on me. He
must’ve just arrived, as his partner is right on his heels. I give
him my biggest smile. “Hi, Bear!”

“Hey, Sloane,” he replies in his soft voice.
He’s just a little taller than me with has mousy brown hair and big
blue eyes. He seems very unassuming. You’d never guess by looking
at him or listening to him that he would be such a badass, but he
is. According to my brothers, he’s a fourth degree black belt with
a nasty temper, which is where the nickname comes from—Bear, as in
don’t poke the…

Sig cups my elbow and steers me to an empty
booth. He nudges me, trying to get me to sit. I resist, bracing one
arm against the table and straightening my legs.

“Sig, stop! You’re gonna make me spill my
drink!”

“Does that have alcohol in it?”

I lift my chin and meet his eyes,
automatically puffing out my chest. “Yes, it does. I’m twenty-one,
remember? It’s my legal right to drink.”

“I’m not even gonna address how moronic this
is for you,
you of all people—”

“Stop right there! There’s absolutely no
reason—”

“I said I’m not gonna address it,” he snaps.
“But why in the everlovin’ shit would you come
here
to do
it?”

“
This
is exactly why I came here. I
have a statement to make and this seemed like language you
Neanderthals would understand.”

“Maybe a regular old
explanation
would
work on
this
Neandrathal.”

“Sig, I’m all grown up. I think you see that
a little more than Scout and Steven and Dad. Especially Steven and
Dad. But I
need
to make them see it.”

“Why? What’s so terrible about the way you’ve
been treated?”

That feels an awful lot like a sucker punch.
“God, Sig, it’s not that I’ve been abused or anything. Please try
to see this from my perspective. I can’t live like a prisoner for
the rest of my life. I can’t. And I won’t. But it’s my hope that
y’all will be able to see me for who I am and what I want. To be
happy when I’m happy, whether I’m making the choices you’d have me
to make or not.”

Sig watches me with eyes so like my own. I
see his mind working behind them. Processing. And like the Sig that
I know and love, and have been closest to my whole life, he thinks
not just with his head, but with his heart, too.

“So what are you waiting for then?”

“Huh?” I ask, confused by his question.

Sig takes the short, sweating glass from my
fingers and holds the straw near my lips. “Bottoms up!”

I search his face and I see acceptance.
Reluctant acceptance, but acceptance nonetheless.

One down,
I think. He’s over the
tattoo hump and now the drinking one. Maybe at least one of the men
in my life will finally see me as an adult.

I lean in and take a long sip from the straw,
my eyes smiling up into his. When I swallow, the liquid sears a
path all the way down my throat. I sputter reflexively.

With eyes that are now distinctly amused, Sig
reaches around and pounds me on the back.

“Holy shit! What’s in this, turpentine?” I
ask.

Sig laughs outright. “Milk is for babies,
sis. Welcome to adulthood.” Sig sets the glass on the table and
turns to his partner. “Why don’t you go get a couple of beers and a
plain
Coke?” Sig reaches into his pocket for his wallet and
hands Bear a few bills.

“What the hell? I thought you were—”

Sig interrupts me. “The beers are for you
two. I figure you won’t be able to handle more than one of those,
so it’s beer for you next. The Coke is for me, because somebody’s
gonna have to drive your obliterated ass home.”

Sig pushes me into the booth and then slides
in after me. I lean over to rest my head against his shoulder for a
second. “You’re such a good big brother.”

He flicks the end of my nose and I jerk
upright, yelping at the sting of it. “Damn right I am. Because you
know who’s gonna get an asskicking for this, don’t you?”

“Nobody. Because this is all on me. Part of
being an adult, right? Dealing with the consequences?”

“Yeah, but you’ve never had to ‘deal’ with
Dad. Or Steven really. They might’ve seemed hard on you, but you
don’t know what hard is.”

“I’ll protect you,” I say, taking another sip
of my drink. The burn is less evident this time and I’m able to
appreciate the bite of the rum coupled with the sweetness of the
Coke.

“I’ll remember you said that.”

“Please do.”

********

The thing about alcohol, I’m discovering, is
that it sneaks up on you. One minute you feel a little lightheaded,
the next you can’t see straight.