Page 8 of Tell Me Your Lies

There’s a knock on my door and before I can open my mouth to say anything it flies open and Mia walks inside and flops into a chair. I can’t find any excuse for Mia’s rudeness or disrespect for my privacy. Being wealthy isn’t a reason either. My parents are wealthy and I was raised to have respect for other people. So I finish the note I’m making and then look up slowly at her. “Hi, is there anything I can do for you?”

“How did your interview go with my mom?” Mia pulls her feet onto the chair and wraps her arms around her knees. “What did she tell you about me?”

The idea of getting a start on the first chapter of the book disintegrates and I drop my pen on the table and swivel the chair around to look at her. “She did mention someone kidnapped you at the high school prom. I would like to interview you sometime to talk about that incident. I’m sure your mother would like to have a chapter on each of her children in the book.”

“Really?” Mia gives a sarcastic laugh and rolls her eyes. “Do you believe she would like the world to know all about her naughty little children?”

I shrug. “Sensationalism sells books.”

I wonder why Mia needs to wear a ton of makeup for lounging around the house. Thick lines of eyeliner wrap around each eye and her eyelashes are so long they almost touch her eyebrows. I watch as she examines me, her gaze shifting back and forth as if trying to estimate what I’m thinking. She’s my age and yet has been a patient of my father’s for some years now. He doesn’t say anything to me but I know he drops by to administer Botox and fillers for Isabelle and Mia. On one of my infrequent visits, he asked me to collect boxes of injectables from his office after a frantic phone call from one of them. They expect him to drop everything and run on over. I know they pay him a fortune for his personal attention, so I guess he believes it’s worth it as he lives close by.

I turned twenty-five last birthday and I don’t feel that I need Botox or anything else but I must admit, up-close Mia could easily pass for eighteen. I’ve been around women who endeavor to resemble people in TV shows or movie stars all my life. I personally find it quite ridiculous, maybe because my father is one of the top plastic surgeons in the country and I could literally change my entire appearance if I had the urge. My pause in the conversation is upsetting her and she stares at me, her eyes wild.

“Oh Lord, she’s told you all our dirty little secrets, hasn’t she?” Mia’s hands tighten around her legs and she rocks back and forth. “She promised she wouldn’t.”

Is she playing games with me? I shake my head. “My first interview with your mother was all about how she started in the business and up to her first movie. It seems I have another seven movies to go. She didn’t mention either of the boys or even her husband. She only mentioned you briefly because I pushed her for something the readers might want to know that she’d kept secret. She mentioned the kidnapping. Do you want to discuss it? It must have been a very traumatic time in your life.”

“This is what I mean.” Mia lifts her arms high and snaps her fingers together. “She makes things up to get attention. Nobody kidnapped me. I left the prom with my boyfriend and we went with a group of friends to spend the weekend at his house while his parents were on vacation.” She giggles. “We had a ball. Then when my boyfriend dropped me home the entire blacktop is filled with TV broadcasting vans and reporters are sticking microphones at me. It was a nightmare for weeks.” She shakes her head. “Mom claims to have received a ransom note. Of course, it was a hoax and one she manufactured. Trust me, she knows the meaning of sensationalism. Personally, I find it pathetic.”

No wonder I hadn’t heard or seen anything about a kidnapping. I frown. “Didn’t you call her to tell her where you’d be?”

“Yeah, I told her before the prom but she claims I never spoke to her. Dad was away on tour and when he came back, he went ballistic. I explained and he took my side. Mom didn’t care; she’d gotten the media coverage she craved.” She snorts. “It took me years to live that down and if it’s in the book it will make me look like an idiot. It will be déjà vu all over again.”

I tap my pen on the table after making a few notes. What she is telling me is the complete opposite of Isabelle’s recollection. Which one of them is lying to me—and why? “The story she gave me was one of concern but you’ll have enough time to speak to her before she says anything that you don’t want in the book. Before I send the finished product to my publisher, everyone in the family will have a chance to read the manuscript. If there is anything you don’t want made public, I’ll make every effort to remove it, pending Isabelle’s approval of course. The rules about writing this type of book is that we don’t lie about people, or defame them in any way. There’s not much point to writing a memoir and then spending the next ten years in court if we upset someone.” I lean back in my chair. “Do you want to tell me what it was like being raised in this family?”

“Why not?” Mia relaxes a little. “I might as well get it over with so I can sleep at night.” She drops her legs and leans back in the chair.

I smile at her. “Just give me a minute to download the interview onto my laptop. I like to record everything so I don’t make a mistake.”

“No, just take notes.” Mia frowns and her long, black painted fingernails dig into the plush pink leather chair. “Recordings are dangerous. People can use them against you.”

My ears prick. There’s a story here and I need to hear it. I lean forward trying to make it more confidential between us. “Okay, notes it is. What do you want to tell me?”

“Do you know everything you do here is monitored?” Mia’s mouth curls into a smile. “There are guards in a control room twenty-four seven who watch everything we do.”

I nod slowly. “That’s usual. There are surveillance cameras in my home as well. My father has the security for our own protection. There are a lot of crazy people out there.”

“I don’t believe my dad knows how many cameras there are in the house. He only sees what he wants to see.” Mia points to a small dot on the wall. “That, my dear Alani, is a camera. My dad figures the cameras are in the hallways and the front and back doors just in case anyone breaks into the house. He has no idea that my mother keeps everyone under surveillance all the time, even in their own private spaces.”

I glance nervously at the camera above my head and see a speck the size of a pea embedded in the middle of the room at the top of the wall right opposite my bed. “Don’t you have security officers watching the footage twenty-four hours a day like we do?”

“Here’s where things get creepy.” Mia’s eyes narrow as she looks at me. “Mom has her own feed. She believes no one knows about it but it’s inside a special room that’s always locked. She told me it’s where the safe is, so I took her keys and had copies made. I found the damn room and saw what she had on tape on just about everyone we know who stayed here at one time.”

I stare at her. Why is she telling me if her mother is listening to everything we say? “Well, it’s no secret now, is it?”

“Well actually, what we’re saying at the moment is safe.” Mia giggles and squeezes my arm. “You see, Oliver is an IT expert and when I told him about the surveillance he wasn’t impressed. He took your room offline the moment he discovered that Dad had insisted you take this room. He has also taken our rooms offline—as in us kids. He managed to get into the system and do so much damage that my mom can’t repair it without getting someone from the outside to look at it. She won’t risk Dad discovering what she’s up to.”

I shake my head wondering if I can believe a word she’s saying. “Do you figure she’s capable of blackmailing her friends?”

“With my mother, anything is possible.” Mia met my gaze. “Don’t trust her. She is watching everything you do.”

THIRTEEN

After three more sessions with Isabelle, I feel like I’m suffocating with frustration. Her story is so mundane and boring. I stare at her. Today she’s dressed as a cowgirl, and I can almost see my face in her glossy ruby lips. It’s fascinating. Her brilliant white teeth surrounded by red lips are a focal point as if it’s just the lips talking to me. Her mouth dominates her face and I wonder if the look is intentional. After a time, it’s very distracting especially as nothing she is saying is the least bit interesting. I clear my throat and try to meet her gaze. “Isabelle, no one is going to purchase a book that is all about poor me, poor me, poor me. There must be something in your past that is illegal or exciting to some degree.”

“My entire life is exciting, darling, but some things are just too private.” Isabelle taps her lips and then pulls a tissue from a box to remove the lipstick from her fingertips. “The night I had Mia, Linc was on tour and I was stuck in the middle of a hurricane. I left the hotel where he was staying because I wanted to come home to have the baby. She wasn’t due for two weeks and I was surprised when the pains started. I couldn’t get to my hospital; the roads were closed and trees were down all over. My driver stopped at the nearest medical center. I had no choice; my pains were three minutes apart.” She stares into the distance. “The maternity ward, if you could call it one, was a single room with curtains between the beds. I gave birth next to a very young girl, who screamed the entire time. She’d been the victim of rape.”

Like my mom. I swallow hard, pushing down bile. “The poor girl. Did you get to meet her?”