Page 19 of City of Liars

“I don’t like to lead with my business interests,” he said. “It can give people the wrong idea. Easier for people to just think I own a bar. I’m sure you understand.”

I got it, all right. My family’s money had been a blessing and an albatross all my life. “I don't understand a bit,” I quipped. “I tell everyone I meet about the gads of money my family has pouring out of every orifice, and it never goes sideways.”

We were both quiet for a long moment, considering Theo’s reaction to that very discovery. Finally he said, “It’s strange the way I know so much about you and nothing at all. I know what your great-grandparents did for a living. I’ve seen pictures of them. Read articles. But you’re a mystery to me. Beyond certain things, that is.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, could picture him sitting on his living room couch, cradling a glass of whiskey. Caught off guard, I was silent, and he made a sound of chagrin. “Forget I said that. I’ve had too much to drink. I shouldn’t have called.”

So I’d been right about the whiskey. I imagined the rest—his dark hair tousled like it had been the other morning when he’d run his hands through it a few too many times, his brilliant hazel eyes clouded with concern. “I’m not sorry you called, Theo,” I admitted. “But I guess I don’t understand why. Are you drunk-dialing me? Or are you any less upset that I’m not ready to ask my grandmother for the test?”

Momentary silence fell, broken by the mournful whistle of the freight train that ran through Forest Hills. It was a lonesome sound, but part of me loved it, even as it evoked a familiar ache. When I was younger, I’d imagined that my bio mom lay awake somewhere, hearing the same whistle. That the train connected us as it sped down the tracks between our cities, never stopping, calling out as it carved its way through the night. A question with no answer, asked again and again.

I’d always thought of it as a ghost train, a train that had no home. In my darker nights, it reminded me of myself: belonging nowhere, an apparition in my own life.

But it turned out my bio mom was never listening at all. She’d died with a needle in her arm before I was even old enough to vote.

Theo was quiet for a while, long enough that the train’s wail faded into the distance. Just when I was beginning to wonder whether he was still there, he said, “No on both counts.”

“It’s not a good idea for us to date,” I said. “Obviously.” Even though he intrigued me, with his musical talent and his determination to make something of himself, not to mention his mad skills in bed.

His voice scraped bottom. “I don’t think so, either. Besides, dating isn’t my thing.”

“So we’re agreed,” I said, swallowing my misplaced disappointment. “Any suggestions?”

In the background, music—jazz, maybe?—rose and fell. “I do have one. But you’re not going to like it.”

“How do you know, unless you ask?”

He sucked in air, as if for courage. “Invite me to meet your family.”

I almost fell off the chaise. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Hear me out. You don’t have to tell them who I am. Just invite me along as a friend. I’ll give them a fake last name. I just want to meet her. At least once.”

“So, smuggle you into my grandmother’s house like a—an explosive device?” A note of hysteria crept into my voice. God, my parents would murder me if they found out. They’d scatter my ashes under the magnolia on the front lawn, if it wouldn’t make the neighbors talk. “You’re absolutely right I don’t like it. You’re insane.”

“I prefer to think of it as innovative and resourceful. If slightly deceptive.”

“Slightly deceptive!” I got to my feet, my shoulders rigid. “You want to check out my family and lie to them, so you can get what you’re after…whatever that is.”

I paced the deck. What I wouldn’t give to submerge myself in the hot tub right now and leave all of this behind.

“Have you told your parents about what happened, Theo?”

He coughed, smothering a laugh. “Hell, no. My mother would have a fucking fit.”

At least I wasn’t the only one who cared about my parents’ opinions. “And your father?”

“He’s not in the picture.”

I absorbed this, adding it to the collection of details I’d amassed about his life. “So you haven’t mentioned our…encounter to anyone. But you want to go to brunch with my family as—what? A spy?”

“I told you. I just want to meet her. Lily. Ella. Whatever her name is.” There was a snapping sound, as if he’d clenched his jaw shut on the last word. “Maybe I’ll recognize her. She may look like someone in my family. Or…maybe not. Then, maybe I’ll just walk away.”

On the one hand, this was tempting. He’d have a meal with my family, I’d be proven right, and this would all be over. But on the other, it was an underhanded approach that was bound to blow up in my face…even if it did mean I’d get to see him again. And I wanted that, more than I should.

Was this just my hormones talking? Or was it me putting my grandmother first and, God forbid, myself, for once? So what if my parents found out who Theo really was. What was the worst that could happen? Would they yell? Call the police? Stop talking to me?

No one rocked an ice-cold freeze-out like my mother. She could give Emily Gilmore a run for her money, no pun intended. As for my dad, he had a PhD in making me think any disagreements between us were All My Fault. If I’d been smarter, done better, tried harder… I could only imagine how he’d spin this.