Page 6 of Tell Me Your Lies

“I’m just messing around.” He smiles in a flash of white. “I know you, Alani, but you don’t remember me, do you? You haven’t changed. You have the same soulful eyes. I should write a song about you.”

Astonished, I stare at him. “Have we met? I have this theory that everyone is connected by their acquaintances.”

“Ah yeah, the six degrees of separation.” Lucas leans back and places his guitar beside him. “In our case it’s true. I was two years ahead of you in high school. I tried to get up the courage to ask you to the prom but those days I looked like a nerd when it was Oli who was into computers, not me. For me it was always music. He’s always been the perfect son and I’ve always been a bad boy. Heck, I spent more time suspended than I did at school.” He smiles ruefully. “Do you want to sit down? You’re here to write my mom’s book and want a story. I guess I’m gonna be in it?”

Heat flushes my cheeks as I sit down opposite him. “Yeah, I’m guessing you won’t want all your secrets told. What you want made public is up to you.”

“Darlin’, one chapter wouldn’t cover my life.” He chuckles. “I’ll need an entire book.”

I smile. It’s hard not to like him; it’s as if I’ve known him his entire life. This is the rebel son, the talented musician and songwriter. Married and divorced in one year and in rehab the next. “You are a little young to have your memoirs written. Maybe I’ll write yours when you turn fifty or so.”

“If I make it that far.” He stares into space for long minutes. “The time between when I’m not writing songs and just hanging around waiting for the next gig makes me feel like running away and never stopping.” He sucks in a long breath and lets it out slowly. “I hate living with my parents but it’s part of the deal. I got stoned and trashed someone’s place. Dad fixed it but I gotta stay here and be a good little boy.” His gaze moves over me again. “Tell me what to do, Alani. You look like you know how to deal with this crazy world.”

I’m not sure how to phrase my next sentence. Life hasn’t been too easy for me either. “I ran away from my parents and didn’t speak to them until after I graduated from college. So maybe I’m not the best example of someone dealing with life.”

“Oh, tell me what happened?” He leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees, his intent stare locking on my eyes. “Sam never mentioned any problems. He always said you were the perfect child.”

I shake my head. “I was the perfect child and they gave me everything I wanted. I couldn’t want for better parents but then I discovered they’d lied to me for my entire life. I guess I was resentful and angry. I find it hard to forgive people when they do bad things to me. Writing autobiographies is a great way of dealing with anger. Maybe you can channel yours into your songs?”

“Yeah, I could do that but how does telling all about a paid client benefit you? Your name isn’t on the cover, is it?” He raises one black eyebrow and stands. He takes an acoustic guitar from the wall, sits back down and plucks at the strings. Music flows from his fingers as if by magic. The sound is mesmerizing.

I drag myself away from the melody and look at him. “Yes, my name is mentioned as the ghostwriter but, if you want honesty, I’ve come to the conclusion, after interviewing many people, that it doesn’t matter how wealthy or successful you are, it can’t make you happy. A good relationship is the answer. Having a rock to lean on is the key to happiness, rich or poor.”

“Man, I have so many women chasing me—but I don’t connect to any of them.” He meets my gaze. “None of them have meaningful conversations. Heck, most of them can’t walk past a mirror without stopping.”

I know exactly what he means. I’ve met many superficial, self-absorbed people myself. I nod. “Exactly. In fact, finding someone who actually cares for the real you is more difficult than people realize. I can see what happens on the inside, Lucas. There are so many people out there just trying to get part of your fortune or bathe in your notoriety, publicity or fame.” I shrug. “When I discovered this, I realized that my life wasn’t so bad after all. I can do the job I love and avoid the fame and fortune that goes around being a bestselling author just because it’s not my name on the cover of the book—and I get paid a flat fee not royalties.”

“That’s very interesting.” Lucas pauses, grabs a notebook and writes.

I watch him. He is absorbed in what he’s doing as if in a totally different world. After ten minutes, I go to stand and he looks up at me and holds up a hand. I smile. “I’ll go. I’m disturbing you.”

“No, you’re inspiring me.” He chuckles. “That’s not a pick-up line. I’m being serious here.”

I nod. “That’s a nice thing to say.” I sigh. “I do need to go. Your mom will be looking for me.”

“She’ll be rehearsing what she’s going to say to you.” Lucas meets my gaze. “She is always performing, even with us. I’ve never been able to believe a word she says because she changes up the truth to suit herself. Unfortunately people in this house tell lies. But you can trust me. Come and have a talk if you’re worried about anything.” He narrows his gaze. “For instance, they didn’t tell you about Jenny Stafford, did they?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Mom hired her as a ghostwriter, weeks ago.” Lucas clears his throat. “She just walked out one day and never returned.”

Is that a warning or is he messing with my head too? I frown, needing to get away. “That’s a worry. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Just one thing.” He gives me a long look, almost without expression, and waves his hand to encompass the house. “All this is an illusion. It’s what my mom wants you to see—so don’t dig too deep, you might not like what you find.”

TEN

The colors of the exotic orchids are a blur as I rush through the atrium wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. I almost collide with Allison who comes toward me through a line of palm trees. I stop and let out my breath. My heart is pounding in my chest and after speaking with Lucas, I’m not sure I want to be here anymore.

“Oh, there you are, Alani. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Allison smiles at me and then frowns. “You’re as pale as a ghost, what’s happened?” She glances past me and in the direction of where I last saw Lucas. “Lucas hasn’t been telling stories again, has he? If you decide to add him to your book I suggest you just skirt around the edges of his life. I’m sure Isabelle will give you instructions of how much she wants in the book about her children and her husband. She has never had them on display. Lucas of course is very well known because of the band. He is a celebrity in his own right but he went down the wrong path when he married that girl and then decided to give over his life to recreational drugs.” She walks slowly beside me. “He’s never been the same since. He came out of rehab and has remained clean but Isabelle refuses to forgive him for the bad press. He writes incredible songs and they make a fortune, so he’s tolerated around here.”

Tolerated? Considering she is Isabelle’s personal assistant, I’m surprised she dares to offer such a damning opinion of a member of the family that employs her. “He seems fine to me. I knew him in high school and I don’t figure he’s changed at all. It was all about his music then and it seems to me that it consumes his entire life at the moment.”

“Yeah, it does.” Allison smiles at me. “The reason I came looking for you is because Isabelle isn’t quite ready yet and asked me if I could give you a tour of the house. I understand that Linc offered to show you the recording studio, but Isabelle believes it will be better if I took you around.” She gives me a knowing look. “She’s super jealous, you know. If you want my advice I would keep as far away from Linc as possible.”

I laugh. “Oh, I will, he’s old enough to be my father and it happens that my type doesn’t lean toward long hair and scruffy.” I follow her inside the house. “Where are you taking me?”

“All the exciting stuff is downstairs.” Allison walks along the hallway and opens a door that leads to a sweeping stairway.