The Truth of a Liar Page 7

  “Yes, Rowan?”

  “Do you ever have nightmares?” I feel stupid asking him such a silly question, but even in high school, he seemed untouchable. He was a jerk, but resilient nonetheless.

  He sighs heavily and shifts in the chair. “I guess you could say I do. Everyone has demons.”

  The melancholy is palpable in his tone. It makes me wonder what I’ve missed in the years since I’ve seen him. “Yeah,” I agree. “Some of us just deal with them differently.”

  “Or, not at all,” he says.

  I want to ask him what he means and why he is the way he is. I want to ask a million questions as to why he seems sad all of the time. But, I don’t. I turn back around and face the wall.

  “Rowan,” Lark calls gently. “I’m going to try and chase those nightmares away for you.”

  My eyes widen, and I don’t mean for them to, but they water, just slightly. I don’t cry, haven’t in a very long time, but his sincerity makes me want to believe him.

  WORRY. IT’S A FAIRLY COMMON emotion. I’ve felt it. We’ve all felt it. But there is something to be said for feeling it for someone who you are sworn to protect. Someone I’m supposed to look after. But the longer I let myself stay with her at night, the more vulnerable I get because she’s a person who I want to look out for. I’ve never actually wanted to do that. Not since Whitley. And even with her, that was self-seeking. With Rowan, it feels selfless. I want to know she’s safe. And even though I’m not supposed to have any sort of feelings for her, I can’t stop myself from having some.

  So I worry. A lot.

  “Lark, come in,” Chris says into my radio.

  “Go for Lark.”

  We’re minutes from curtain and I’m outside the dressing room waiting for Rowan to come out.

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  I look around. Who would be here to see me?

  “Well, uh, all right. Let me get Rowan situated and I’ll be there.”

  “Oh,” Rowan says surprised when she exits.

  The smile that appears on my face is quick and I put it away as soon as I realize I let myself slip, but Christ she looks radiant. “Rowan, hey.” I try to appear nonchalant. ‘Rowan, hey’? Could I be any more unprofessional?

  Her smile is genuine as she pulls at her dress. I haven’t seen her since I left her in her room this morning and even though I don’t want to feel it, eagerness bubbles inside of me. “You doing okay?” she asks, grabbing hold of my arm.

  I look down and step away from her grasp only to put my hand where hers just was. I clear my throat and say, “Yes. They’re ready for you.”

  A knowing grin settles on her lips. “Okay.”

  She walks past me and I trail behind her in silence.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell to you guys, but I want to go back home for a couple weeks.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but she waves and winks, strutting out on to the stage.

  How am I going to get her to her hometown and keep her safe?

  The woman is going to kill me.

  I shake my head and walk behind the back curtain to meet Chris. But I stop in my tracks when Jennings and Whitley step in front of me.

  Jennings looks the same, his age not having an effect on his movie star appearance. Whitley though, she looks different. Her long blonde hair is gone, cut to her shoulders, but her gray eyes are still the same as ever, which is still captivating. They both look to me and smile. Our feud long over.

  “Jennings? Whit? What are you guys doing here?”

  Jennings is the first to speak. “Hey cousin. We were in town for my release. Thought we’d stop in and say hi.”

  In a few strides, I engulf him in a hug. It’s been years since I’ve seen either of them, almost two years now, but I don’t want our time be tainted by our past.

  I let go of Jennings and hug Whitley. I still tower over her small frame but she hugs me ferociously. When we let go of each other, Jennings and Whitley move toward each other and grasp hands.

  “How are you guys?” I ask.

  “Good,” they say together and then laugh when they realized they answered at the same time.

  Whitley looks up at Jennings, love evident in her expression. “Honestly, we wanted to make sure everything was okay after you talked to Jennings last week.”

  I scrub my hand down my jaw and look to my left to see Rowan singing on stage. “Things seem to be fine. Coincidence maybe? We’re still looking into it.” I say, turning back to them.

  “It’ll get worked out. You’re good at what you do, Lark,” Jennings offers.

  Uncomfortable, I rub the back of my neck. “Thanks, man.”

  “So, that’s her?” Whitley points to Rowan, shifting the attention away from me.

  I let my eyes move back to the stage and as Rowan belts the last couple notes of the song. I can’t help but stare in awe. It’s a magnificent thing to watch her doing what she loves instead of worrying about her life.

  This is her escape.

  Maybe taking her to visit her family would be a good idea.

  “That’s her.”

  “She looks completely different than she did in high school, huh?” Jennings observes, watching her closely.

  My head swerves back to look at him with a confused, dumbfounded look. “Umm, what?”

  A knowing smile falls upon Jennings’ face. “Dude.” He shakes his head. “Rowan graduated with us.”

  How in the hell did I not know that? “Did I ever meet her?” I ask. Christ, I don’t think I ever did. I can’t fully recall her face in any of my memories.

  Although, maybe that’s why I felt like I knew her when we first met.

  God, I really was a self-centered ass back then.

  Jennings doesn’t respond. He simply slaps my shoulder in his brotherly way and nods, whispering something in Whitley’s ear. She squeezes his arm, gives me a little smile and makes her way into the main theater to take her seat. Jennings watches her until she ducks out into the audience, then turns to me.

  “So,” he quips, “I felt like maybe it was time to say something.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Okay,” I say cautiously. “About what?”

  He motions for me to sit down on a prop table and begins, “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

  My mind brings me back to the last time we were in the same room. I’d apologized to the two of them a few years back as we sat outside and watched a storm roll in. I had put all of my crap on the table and asked for forgiveness. It was something I never thought I’d do, but awfully glad I did. I’d never felt so open and raw in all of my life. But that’s what you do for family, right? You lay all of your cards out and hope they pick them up to play a hand.

  And now, I finally have a family that understands and accepts me. Jennings and Whit recognized that I had changed and didn’t want to be that bitter person anymore. They offered something I’d never had.

  The same can’t be said for other members of my family, I’ve burnt too many bridges, but at least I have Jennings and Whitley.

  He goes on, “And though we talk on the phone frequently, I thought it needed to be said.”

  Oh christ. I’m shaky and don’t know if this is a good or a bad conversation.

  “Lark, we—I—am so proud of the man you’ve become. We’ve both made a lot of mistakes. Told too many lies, but I want you to know, all of that’s in the past. It’ll stay there. We’re family, and no matter what life throws at us, that’ll never change. You’ve become a new man, and he’s a pretty great guy.”

  I let out a lungful of air and fight the urge to cry. And that’s a new feeling. I can’t remember the last time I cried.

  That’s a lie. I do.

  I nod, unable to form any coherent words and stand up, grabbing his arm and bring him into a hug. My newfound way of living has made me a bit of a softie when it comes to family and Jennings. Every other aspect of my life, I’m a hard-ass, I’m paid to be, and more importantly, it keep
s me from making mistakes, but Jennings’ acceptance brings out something in me that is far too embarrassing to admit.

  “Things will work out with your dad one day, too,” he assures, letting me free of his grasp. “Just keep trying.”

  I’m struck by the mention of Dad, but don’t say anything more. There’s no use. Dad made up his mind years ago, but I can’t tell Jennings that. He believes in the good, and I just see the truth. As ugly and nasty as it is, I can’t change someone’s opinion of me.

  “I’m going to go out there with Whitley.” He points over his shoulder.

  I sniff a bit and nod. “Make sure to let me know when you leave.”

  “I will, cousin.”

  He gives me one last wave and ducks into the darkness of the theater, leaving me alone to think about his unwavering compassion.

  Jennings’ little secret came out into the world about three years ago after a magazine caught wind of his extra curricular activities. They had hired an investigator and plastered his face all over the news. Living a double life didn’t quite make the horrible impression we all thought it would. More than anything, people were more upset that they didn’t put the pieces together quicker. But, people from our hometown—and the world—embraced his identities and it actually turned out pretty great for him. He couldn’t do much wrong, and the old Lark despised him for it.

  But now, I can’t help but accept it.

  Why do people compare lives? So his life seems easier, it doesn’t affect me. What makes one life more significant than another?

  It doesn’t.

  A part of embracing your life is accepting what you have, right? The good and the bad. My story isn’t anyone else’s. So, I’m going to write my own version and make it a great one.

  Once I grew up a bit and realized that, my life became much more bearable.

  Rowan finishes the first act and races back to the dressing room where she changes costumes. I trail behind her in a bewildered haze. I’m still floored about possibly knowing her. What troubles me even more is that she might have known this entire time without saying a thing. It makes me question if I did something to her back then that I can’t remember.

  Or worse…

  She doesn’t remember.

  Ouch, talk about a slap to my ego.

  I stuff my hands in my pockets and wait for her outside in the hall, nodding my hello’s to her cast mates as they pass me. I’m so incredibly awkward. Why do I have to be such an idiot sometimes? On the outside, I’m cool and collected, but the inside? Not so much.

  Rowan passes by me without a second glance and I do what I’m trained to do. I quickly scope out the area and make sure she arrives to the stage safely. There hasn’t been much chatter on the radio since the show started and that’s probably because with intermission, the guys are on full alert. And, if you talk at all during the show, these New Yorkers will kick your ass. But whatever the case, it’s a good idea to check in.

  “Everyone doing okay?”

  “I’m good here, mate,” Liam answers the moment I take my finger off the TALK button.

  “Copy that,” Chris says.

  “All’s well on my end,” Evan assures.

  When the second act begins, I let myself watch Rowan as she commands the attention of everyone in the theater. Her flawless beauty and hypnotizing voice make for a combination that is difficult to match.

  My years spent in Los Angeles, weren’t spent in vain. The women I dated dragged me to show after show, and when I say I know what I’m talking about, I truly do. New York may be a different vibe, but Rowan could hold her own anywhere she went.

  The moment she finishes her final bow, she ducks out into the meet and greet area and I find myself hanging back so I can watch her in action. I haven’t had the chance to view her with her fans before, but the sparkle in her eyes when someone walks up to her and hands her a bouquet of flowers is one I’ll probably file away and remember when I’m no longer in her life.

  In the weeks that I’ve known Rowan, I’ve found myself wanting to open up to her. To tell her my truths and turn my back on lying. I might not actually know what those truths really are, but watching her sleep at night, I imagine a better version of myself. Because of her. And it’s not in that I’m-head-over-heels-in-love-with-her kind of way. Had I been a better man, she’s the kind of person that reminds me what I could have been. You know, if I hadn’t been such a monumental dick, I could have been a good enough person to deserve someone like Rowan.

  My brain is a complex mess of long-winded reflections, if you couldn’t tell.

  Cameron comes up behind Rowan and wraps his arms around her middle. From the scene I witnessed in the coffee shop, I have a half a mind to go up there and pull him off. But, as I begin to take a step toward them, Rowan, very politely excuses her self from the masses, stepping out of his grasp and walks my way.

  She raises her eyebrows and smiles, though it’s forced.

  “You doing okay?” I ask, nodding toward Cameron who is now talking to all of the people who were excited to meet Rowan.

  Rowan rolls her eyes. “Sure. If you consider your cast mate and ‘almost’ boyfriend making a fool of you, then sure.”

  I take note of her heavy sarcasm and choose my words wisely. “He didn’t make a fool of you, Rowan. He made an ass of himself when he missed his entrance in the second act. Not to mention, his harmonizing was incredibly off in…which song was it? Coincidentally in Love?”

  She cackles a loud sound and swiftly covers her mouth with her hand, anxiously looking around. “He did, didn’t he? Ass,” she agrees.

  “He was certainly off his game.”

  “How do you know so much about all of this?” Rowan questions.

  “What? Like, theater and stuff?”

  She nods.

  “I don’t, actually. But, as a kid, my mom forced me into taking piano lessons. I can usually tell if singers are off key. And, it doesn’t hurt that I’ve seen this show about a hundred times in the past two weeks.”

  “Right.” Rowan laughs. “You probably know it better than I do at this point.”

  The rest of her cast mates begin filing into the back of the theater and I step closer to Rowan, intruding in on her personal space. She doesn’t move away from me, but I can tell the proximity isn’t something she’s used to. I’m a stranger.

  Wait. Maybe, not.

  I don’t know.

  “I don’t know about that,” I say. “The show’s pretty great. You’re fantastic in it.”

  A slight pink sweeps her cheeks and she looks down, uncomfortable with my praise. “Th—thank you.”

  I step back, into the gaggle of people, now embarrassed with myself. I don’t usually give approval to anyone. A part of being me requires a sense of entitlement. And, I know that sounds incredibly selfish, but in order to keep my lying ways under wraps, I need to stay true to the things I know.

  I’m self-centered. I’m pretty sure that one is fairly obvious.

  I’m only in this life for me.

  No distractions.

  No attachments.

  Always follow the rules.

  Simple.

  That’s not to say I’m a stranger to women. I probably dab my feet in sexual encounters more often than I should. I’m not a womanizer, I like women, there’s a huge difference. Although, I apparently don’t like them enough to keep one for longer than a night. I haven’t had a serious girlfriend since college. But, they know the drill. Sex, shower and leave. No questions, no expectations.

  Get it and go.

  I’m a guy, what can I say? I have needs, and there are more than enough women offering up their services.

  Rowan and I have crossed into this odd, quiet, staring contest and I sit and watch, waiting for her to blink. She doesn’t have to, though, because by the time I figure out that our situation is getting weird, Cameron comes up behind Rowan once again.

  But this time we are alone and she has no problem forcibly pushing him off.
“Cam, please, quit that. You broke it off, remember?” She looks at me and I avert my eyes.

  This is intruding, right?

  I’m intruding.

  I take a step back into the darkness of the stage, but keep my eyes and ears open for any sort of problems. I may not want to attach myself to Rowan, but I sure as hell am not okay with someone screwing around with her.

  “Cam.” Rowan sighs. “You have to stop doing that.”

  His face contorts as if he’s insulted, replying, “Doing what? I still care about you, Row.”

  I hate his nickname for Rowan. Unoriginal.

  “And that’s great, Cameron, thanks,” she says with fake appreciation. “But you remember why you dropped our relationship? My issues. And guess what.” She points to me. “One of them is right there.” I look away. “Don’t act like a boyfriend when we are barely friends.”

  “Don’t say that,” Cameron pleads and I can’t resist my eyes from returning to observe them.

  Rowan softens and takes a breath. “Look, I appreciate you. You’re my co-star. But I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t be some fling on the side of your already busy life.”

  “But,” Cameron fights. “You were okay with it up until last week.”

  “Right,” she concedes. “I was. But things have changed. Drastically, in fact. I’m nearing thirty, Cam, and my life is apparently in danger. I don’t want to be screw buddies with anyone anymore. I need something meaningful. I told you.” She sighs. “All or nothing.”

  “I can’t give that to you, Row.” He appears to be genuinely upset.

  Rowan shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. “Then, I guess, that’s it.”

  “Don’t hate me,” he begs.

  Her eyes relax. “I don’t. I couldn’t.” She touches his arm. “It just…is what it is.”

  His mouth thins and he nods dejectedly, walking to the back room.

  Rowan clasps her hands in front of her and walks over to me. “So, that was probably awkward for you.”

  I wave her off. “Nah.”

  “Liar.” She smiles.

  “A little.” I wink.

  “Yeah, how about—” She points to the dressing room, but I cut her off.

  “Actually, I was thinking.”