Second Lies (The Second Life Series) (6 page)

My hair was tied to the side in a messy bun
held together with gold, butterfly pins.  My makeup was dark and flawless, hiding the sadness in my sea blue eyes.  My gray and gold D&G dress was a mermaid shape, exposing the curves of my chest in a tasteful manner.  Over and over again, I posed with my mom and Dennis, forcing a smile on my lips.  The ache in my chest never lessened, not even after over two months of being single, not even after distracting myself with nonstop workout sessions at the gym, pounds of coke, bottles of booze, parties, and events for Dennis.

“That’s enough,” Dennis raised his hand in protest, and the cameras stopped flashing.  He took my mom’s hand and led us both into the ballroom of the Catalina Hotel in the Art District of Philadelphia.  We were attending a charity event in support of budding, local artists.  At least
there’d be something to look at.  These parties were becoming draining, leaving me melancholy and hollow.  Still, I went every time.  I was Dennis’s dog.  He owned me.  My thoughts drifted back to Nick and his description of our asshole stepfather.  He had warned me of this.  I was just paying my debt.

When we entered the gallery, I viewed the tri-state area
’s wealthiest and most sophisticated individuals.  They were also Dennis’s best friends and biggest supporters.  After mingling with this crowd for a couple months now, I was becoming familiar with their names and faces.  It was shameful.  I hated it.  I was counting down the days until I could move to Virginia with my dad.  That was my plan once I got that fucking picture back.

“I’m going to get a drink,” I mumbled.
  Neither of them protested.  The only way I could tolerate these events was if I was drunk or high.  Unfortunately, the weed I smoked a while ago had worn off, so liquor was my only option.  Now, I could understand why my mom was such a lush.

“Thank you,” I said while grabbing two flutes of champagne.  I downed one and placed it back on the tray.  As I eyed the second one, I said to the waiter, “Don’t go too far from me.  I have a feeling you and I will be best friends this evening.”
He nodded his head, amused, mistaking my seriousness for a joke.

I walked up to a painting and stared up at it.  It was a large portrait of a
naked woman done in a rainbow of colors.  Her face was made up of shades of blue and red and orange.  Her body painted in pinks and green.  She was dancing in the black, midnight sky surrounded by a million points of white light.  The concept didn’t make sense to me, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring up at it.

“She’s beautiful.  Isn’t she?
  It’s called ‘Center of Attention,’” I had become so enthralled by the portrait that I didn’t even notice someone had walked up next to me. “Her eyes follow you around the room.  It’s a bit eerie.”

My eyes widened at the realization; my palms became moist.  I hadn’t heard
his voice in months.  I turned to my right.  Garrett stood next to me, looking delicious in a gray, pin-striped suit and bronze colored tie.  It brought out the hew of blonde colors in his hair.  He was massive compared to my size, standing well over 6 feet tall and bulky, looking like he was sculpted from solid muscle.  There was brown stubble around his chin and his golden hair was brushed back in waves.  This wasn’t the man I remembered from
his
house.  This man looked refined and striking.  The man I remembered was uncultured and crude.

“She’s interesting to say the least,” I slung back the rest of my champagne and faced him.  His forest
green eyes pierced through mine.  I gulped.  God, they were exactly the same as
his
eyes.  It was a struggle to try and hide my discomfort, but I pulled through. “What are you doing here, Holden?”

“Checking out beautiful women,” he clinked his glass to mine.  For the briefest moment, I caught him eyeing my cleavage.  He motioned to the painting. “So what do you think of this?  I’m trying to figure out if I should buy it
for a restaurant in North Jersey I just purchased.  I can’t figure out if I really like it or not.”

“It’s outrageous, bold and
unnecessary.  I think it’s perfect for you,” I folded my arms, eyeing him up.  He made a face that looked familiar.  Shit, it was hard just looking at him.  Two months later, and I was still struggling with the fact that that relationship was over. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” he grinned. “You look beautiful tonight, Adriana.  Do you have a date this evening?  I can’t imagine it being
very difficult for you to find one, looking as gorgeous as you always do.”

“Dating isn’t for me at the moment,” I drank the rest of the champagne, irritated that the waiter was nowhere in sight.  I needed something stronger. “I’m here with my mother and her husband.” I shrugged. “Well, I came with them.  Now, my mission is to become a drunk asshole by myself.”

He laughed, “That’s not fun.” He made eye contact with a waiter and motioned for him.  Garrett grabbed a drink for each of us and handed me one. “We should be drunk assholes together.” He took a sip of his, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“What would your wife think about this?” I lifted my drink in re
sponse. “Is she home watching your daughter?”

“Shelly’s at her parents
’ in Delaware with Jade,” he shrugged.  I wasn’t sure if I made up the touch of sadness in his eyes, but it instantly disappeared, “where they’ve been staying lately.  I’m pretty sure she doesn’t give a shit what I do anymore.”

“Interesting,” I answered.   I searched the space to change the subject. 
Contrary to what I said, I wasn’t interested in hearing about anyone else’s relationship woes. “Did you see that
thing
over there?” I walked over to this elaborate piece, gliding across the floor in my black stilettos.  Garrett followed behind me, just a step or two away.  We stopped at this gargantuan metal statue constructed of poles and cords.  Randomly placed light bulbs flashed, and multicolored fabric was weaved in and out of openings throughout the piece. “I don’t get how this is art.  It’s just a mess of things.”

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” his statement made me flinch. 
Was he referring to me?  Trash, fuck, that’s how I felt, a thrown out, used, dirty piece of trash.  Garrett didn’t pick up on my thoughts.  He gulped down his drink, grabbing two more from a passing waiter.  He urged. “Keep up.”

It was a challenge that I was all too happy to accept.  I grabbed a drink from him and relished in the bubbles dancing down my throat.  He watched with pure amusement, and then joined me.  I had to admit
that this was fun.  I had spent so many parties drinking by myself as a pitiful mess that any company was welcome…
even
Garrett Holden’s.

We continued to drink until the point where the waiters legitimately knew not to be too far away from us.  We laughed obnoxiously at amusing artwork and made inappropriate jokes about other attendees.  Garrett gave me the courage to talk sports with a certain struggling, Philly quarterback who, despite some bad press, was actually a pretty cool guy and even posed for a picture with me, which I immediately uploaded to several social media outlets.  It was the most fun I’d had in a long time.  So much, in fact, that, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t notice the ache in my heart.

“Picture?” A photographer asked.

Before I could answer, Garrett grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against his body until I was molded against him.  His hands were sprawled out against my hips like he couldn’t
resist touching me.  His chin nestled against my hair.  He smelled divine, a mixture of spices and pheromones.  It was enough to intoxicate me, raising a sensual smile to my lips.  The photographer snapped a picture, and I was sure I looked like I had just been thoroughly fucked.

Even after the photographer left, Garrett just held me there for second.  I pulled myself out of his grasp and gulped.  Maybe it was all the champagne, but my head was feeling clouded.  Garrett was looking divine.  He was funny and observant.  Fuck, he was making me confused.  Michelle was pregnant with his second child.  She was his wife.  There was no way I could let myself feel a damn thing for him.

“Adriana?” He touched my arm, spinning me around, so I was forced to face him. “I’m sorry.  I’ve been drinking.” He scratched the back of his neck, a look of concern crossing his eyes. “Can I take you home?  We should call it a night.”

Without another word, I nodded my head.  Garrett took the lead, being very careful not to touch me unless necessary.  As we made our way outside, he hailed a cab and put me inside, walking around the other side and taking the seat next to me.  I frowned, looking at him in confusion.  Did he get the wrong impression?

“You’ve been drinking.  I just want to make sure you get in okay.  That’s it,” he answered my unspoken question.

Relief washed over me.  I called to the cab driver, “The Hollander on 16
th
and Arch, please.” The cab driver took off, and I relaxed into the cloth seat.  I closed my eyes, giving into the alcohol and my luxurious buzz.

“Did you have fun?” Garrett asked, filling the silence with pointless questions.

A grin captivated my lips.  I opened one of my eyes and peeked in his direction, “Actually, yes, for the first time in a long time, I did have some fun.”

“Good,” he moved a little bit closer to me, enough so I could feel the heat coming off of him.  The beat of my heart picked up a little bit.  He moved his hand over mine, twining our fingers together, and giving it a little squeeze.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was drunk, and his first reaction was to hold my hand?  Garrett Holden really knew how to surprise me.

We took the rest of the ride just like that, hand in hand.  The cab driver pulled up to my building.  Garrett gave him some cash and helped me out the car.  As soon as our feet met the pavement, he grabbed my hand again.  Admittedly, I left it there.  It felt too good to pull away just yet.  Besides, it meant nothing, right?

Jeff, the doorman, held open the door for us.  He nodded his head in my direction, “Good morning, Ms. Ward.” I smiled in return.

Once we got to the elevators, I stopped and stared up at Garrett, completely overcome by his new found charm.  Shit, I was drunk, but I had to keep my composure.  It felt so easy to give into him, but I wouldn’t let myself.

In a light voice, I said, “Thank you for tonight.  I appreciate you for making my objective to be a classless drunk much less pathetic and lonely.”

He gave my hand a little squeeze.  He shook his head, “I had a lot of fun, too.  We can be pathetic together any time.”

My chest heaved as I took a deep breath in, holding it in place.  My world was spinning.  This was so fucking unexpected, yet I wasn’t sure I wanted this to end.  I had fun.  Should I give a shit if he was a Holden?  A quick image of his young daughter corrupted my thoughts.  Fuck, even if that didn’t matter, the fact that he was married with kids certainly did.  There, my decision was made.  This needed to end here and now.

Garrett stared into my eyes searching for something, anything, confirmation, denial, yes, no.  My expression was unreadable.  Without thinking, he leaned in, kissed my lips, holding me in place, possessing my mouth with his.  He inhaled sharply through his nose, and I pulled myself out of his grasp.  We both stared at each other for the shortest of seconds.  I took a step backwards, distancing myself from him.

I couldn’t think of how to articulate what I was feeling or what I wanted.  I gulped, forcing out the words, “Goodnight, Garrett.” I pushed open a door, opting instead to take the long flight of stairs up to my floor instead of waiting for the elevator.  Fuck, I couldn’t believe that happened.

I walked up a couple steps, grateful he didn’t try following me.  I removed my heels and jogged the rest of the way.  My feet felt swollen beneath me.  It was such a grueling, earned punishment that I forced myself the entire way.

Once I got up to my floor, I went to my door and unlocked it.  It felt dark and lonely in here.  I dropped my things to the counter and stripped myself of the dress.  Once I was completely naked, I climbed into bed and stared out my bedroom window to the city.  It was my favorite view.  Maybe after a while, I’d feel a little bit happy.

My lips were still tingling, missing him already.  This was impossible.  Garrett just strutted into my life and took it over so efficiently.  Yes, I ended that kiss, but I certainly didn’t protest against it.  Should I be surprised he was capable of doing this to me?  He was, after all, a Holden.

Shit, this couldn’t be real, and now that I was by myself again, all those feelings from two months ago hit me like a bus.  I was alone again.  I was alone and single and angry, and it was all my fault.  After all, I was the one who used to strip.  I’m the one who can’t keep her nose clean or her glass empty.

After an eternity of going through old memories, I gave into sleep, completely surprising myself, because the last image that danced through my mind wasn’t of
him
…it was the rainbow colored woman from the painting, “Center of Attention.”

I couldn’t believe my alarm was going off.  It felt like I had just closed by eyes, but the morning sun greeted me.  As I turned to my left, I realized I was still alone.  I rolled over and screamed mercilessly into my pillow.  I wondered if all girls went through this during a breakup.  In the beginning it was easy ignoring his calls and trashing the flowers he’d send to my place.  I was still so enraged by the fact that he’d gone to Dennis and confided in him about me working at Lux.  I vowed that one day when I had the courage to see
him
again without breaking down I’d get the full story.  As for now, I knew I’d break, and I couldn’t be with someone who I couldn’t trust.

For the next thirty minutes, I started getting ready.  I took a shower and pulled my hair up into a ponytail.  I put on my workout clothes and coat.  After a short walk, I was at my gym, ready to go.  At this rate, I was pretty sure I could be
come a professional fighter.  Craig had me on a strict workout regime and diet.  I didn’t mind though.  All the training distracted me from my thoughts, or at least, that was how it was supposed to be until I walked into the gym this morning.

I pushed open the double doors and peeled off my coat, jumping up and down in place to get my blood flowing.  It was freezing outside.  I hated the winter, but at least, the snow was holding off.  Nothing was worse
to me than when the sidewalks in the city were covered in snow.

Craig sat at the front desk, leaning as far back as possible in his chair.  It was dead at the gym this early in the morning.  He flipped through the newspaper, slowly easing it down to make eye contact with me.  He smiled, an alarming, menacing, torturous smile, “So I’m guessing you already got your workout in last night.”

He released a boisterous laugh.  I huffed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I hung up my coat and started stretching.

Craig slammed down the newspaper.  It was an article about the art show last night.  The largest pictures was of the “Center of Attention
,” which made me smile, but then, off to the side, was another picture that made me cringe.

Garrett
held me in his powerful hands, leaning into my hair with the side of his face.  If you didn’t know us, you’d swear we were couple.  I had to admit we did look good together.  My face was contorted into pure bliss, something I hadn’t seen on myself in a long time.  Shit, our clothes even matched.  I hadn’t noticed that last night.  We definitely looked like we’d gone together.  Below the picture, the caption read, “Adriana Ward, socialite, and Garrett Holden, entrepreneur, engaging in the finer arts.”

Craig laughed at my expression, “If I had any idea, I was training a socialite I would have been more delicate on you,
Paris
.”

“Shut up and let’s get to work,” I threw the paper back at him and stalked toward
s the heavy bag.  I was going to kick the crap out of this thing.

Craig, still laughing,
walked over and handed me my gloves.  He used to be a professional fighter, so he was a large guy who kept himself in phenomenal shape.  Somehow, that
still
wasn’t intimidating enough to me because I felt like I could take him out with one hit.  He’d be begging for mercy by the time I was done.

I couldn’t believe that picture was published, and I couldn’t believe they labeled me a “socialite.”  That made me sound like some snobby, rich bitch who took everything for granted.  I hit the bag hard at the thought.  Truthfully, I guess I had recently earned the title.  After all, I
was
being photographed at every event in the area downing expensive drinks and dressed in extravagant, designer clothing.  Dennis had me set up with a stylist.  He said he didn’t want to be seen next to the whore stripper from Lux, so my wardrobe was filled with the best names in the business.  I hit the bag again.  Part of me missed working at Lux.  I didn’t like this asshole paying my way like the dog he saw me as.  I might’ve been a stripper, but at least, I could afford the lifestyle I wanted to live.  Again, I hit the bag. 
Hard
.  The shock ran up my arm.

“Faster,” Craig muttered.
“You’re thinking too hard about this.”  I struck the bag, left, right, with powerful blows.  I kept going until my sides and arms hurt with an intense burn. “Good.”

He handed me a bottle of water, and I guzzled it down wh
ile he strapped on these leather, cushioned pads on each of his hands.  This was my favorite part.  Of course, I was aiming for the pads with each of my kicks and punches thrown, but they were still directed towards Craig.  This man knew exactly how to drive me crazy, so it was pure ecstasy to target my aggression at him.

“Keep going,” he said as I continued my combination of hits. “C’mon, you can hit harder than that.  Don’t make me start calling you
Paris
again.” He shot me a grin that boiled my blood.  I was definitely
not
Paris.

An hour went by, I was completely spent.  I felt a lot better than before
though.  Craig took a seat next to me on the bench where I was downing water.  He stared ahead while he spoke to me, “So this guy, Garrett, is he your new boyfriend?”

“More like my ex-boyfriend’s brother,” I rolled my eyes.
  My life was always throwing a curve ball at me. “It’s not complicated.  We were drunk and having a good time.  That’s it.  There was nothing sexual about our relationship.”

He laughed and shook his head full of his trademark bleach blonde spikey hair, “I saw the picture, Adriana.  It looks like he’s got a hard on sticking in your ass.”

“Well, he didn’t.  Garrett is just a guy who I kind of knew who I ran into at a boring art show,” I shrugged. “It was better than drinking by myself.”

As infuriating as he could be, Craig had turned into quite a friend over the past couple months.  He said what was on
his mind and called me out when I was distracted about misplaced emotions.  It was exactly what I needed.  He was good to me…even though I wanted to hit him sometimes.

“So if he’s not your boyfriend then
that means you’re free to date?” He smirked his wide toothy grin at me.  I sighed, wondering where this was leading to. “My buddy’s in Philly for a few days.  How do you feel about a double date?  I promised him a good time if he came up to visit me, and all of Taylor’s friends are busy.”

“
So I’m your last resort?” I shrieked. “Let me guess.  He’s some sort of giant meat head professional fighter like you?” I hated that type of guy.  They were all magnetized to my gym; it was like a constant, giant pissing contest in here.

“Yeah, he’s a pro fighter,” Craig laughed, “but that doesn’t mean he’s not a cool guy.  Come out with us tonight.  Have a couple beers.  It’s not like you have a life anyway.  You’re always working out here.”  He gave me a small push to my arm. “You have my permission to take a night off.” He waved his hands in circles around me
, making an annoying ghost noise at the same time. “I use my magical trainer powers to release you from a night of kicking the shit out of the bag while pretending that it’s me.”

“You know that I do that?” I laughed.

Craig frowned, “Well, now I do, but I guess I’m glad to be of some inspiration.”

“Fine,” I laughed, going to the front to grab my coat. “Set it up. 
Message me where to meet you, and I’ll be there.”

Gloria walked into my apartment, carrying a bag full of makeup and accessories.  She looked me over, standing in nothing but a bathrobe with wet stringy hair. “Jesus, you weren’t kidding when you said you hadn’t put any effort into your outfit.”

“I just got out the shower,” I closed the door behind her and plopped myself on the couch. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I agreed to this.  Dennis keeps calling me to attend these fucking dinners and shit, and this is my first night off in a while.  Why would I agree to do something where I have to dress up when, for once, I don’t have to?”

“Because you’re a girl, and you should want to do this kind of thing,” Gloria plugged in a blow dryer and took to my hair with expertise.  I swear if she ever gave up on her dreams of being a nurse, she could easily become a stylist. “Now, hold still, while I work my magic.”

Gloria primped and painted me until I looked somewhat presentable.  It was nice having her here to help me out.  Even though our friendship was going perfectly fine, we still hadn’t been seeing much of each other lately.  She was juggling her job at Lux, upcoming finals, and a new relationship with Vicki.  At first when they started dating, I felt uncomfortable because I had never seen this side of my best friend before, but that was short-lived.  Vicki ended up being a really cool girl, and she brought out the best in Gloria.

“Where are you drinking tonight?” Gloria asked as she brushed through my hair.  She had created these gorgeous soft waves that I could never replicate on my own.  Whenever I had tried in the past, it always ended up in a big, frizz ball.

“Some new place on Chestnut.  I’ve never been there before,” I answered with a shrug.  She finished my hair and handed me some clothes.  I stared down at a white cable knit off-the-shoulder sweater dress and black knee high boots, an outfit that was definitely not my style. “What the hell is this?”

“Put it on.  You’ll look so hot in this,” she shoved the clothes in my lap. “C’mon, you called me here for a reason.”

I frowned but listened.  She was right.  I did call her over here for a reason.  As I stripped my clothes off and replaced it with the new outfit, Gloria looked ecstatic.  She straightened the dress at my sides and brushed at the arms.  She smiled, “There, you look hot,” she eyed my chest, “especially those boobies.”

I swatted at her. “Yes, thank God, these giant, obnoxious men have my giant, obnoxious chest to enjoy this evening.”

After adding a pair of earrings, a black belt for my waist, and a chunky bracelet, Gloria gathered her things, “Okay, you have fun tonight.  I have to meet Vick for the movie.  Call me
tomorrow and let me know how you had tons and tons of fun and didn’t ruin this date by overthinking every, little thing.”  God, she knew me so well
. 
I waved her goodbye and searched for my keys.

I handed my fake ID to the bouncer who was too busy checking me out to know it was bogus.  He handed it back to me without a second glance, and I walked into the bar.  It was crowded in here.  With the current drink specials, people from all over Philly filled the space from wall to wall.  After several minutes of pushing through the crowd, I spotted Craig with his girlfriend, Taylor, seated at a booth.

Taylor was a pretty girl with long red hair, large brown eyes, pale skin, and freckles.  Every time I saw her, she was always wearing a shirt with the name “Dead Leg” etched on it.  It was Craig’s nickname when he used to fight, Craig “Dead Leg” Everest.  For some reason, I always thought her support of him was ridiculously cute, even though it consumed her wardrobe.

“Hey pretty girl,” she greeted me with a hug, “way to totally outshine me.  You look so gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” I said while taking a seat next to her at the table.  I shot a look at Craig who was shoving his face full of nachos across from me. “Okay, where’s this friend of yours?” I turned back to Taylor, eyeing her with suspicion. “Did he set me up with a complete loser?  Tell me the truth.”

Taylor laughed and shook her head, “No way.  You know I wouldn’t let him do that to you.  Declan’s a good guy.” She pointed passed a couple girls. “Actually, you can check him out now.  He’s getting us beer from the bar.”

From across the room, I spotted Declan.  He looked like he was a couple inches taller than me and composed of bulky muscles, just as predicted.  His tan arms were covered in tattoos and his hair was pressed into a spikey Mohawk.  He looked like the stereotypical douche that worked out at my gym, but for the sake of Taylor and Craig, I was willing to give him a chance.  Besides, this whole mess with Garrett left me feeling confused.  I needed to spend time with a guy whose last name wasn’t Holden.

Declan spun around with a pitcher of beer in his hands and spotted me staring.  His smile was crooked but endearing.  His bright eyes lit up.  Perhaps, this evening could be fun.  I deserved to have some fun after all.

“This is Adriana,” Craig said as Declan made his way to our booth.

He put the pitcher down, and I stood to shake his hand.  He said, “Hey, it’s great to finally meet you.  Craig went on and on about you.”

“Did he?” I shot a look in Craig’s direction that made Taylor choke from laughter while she was taking a drink.  We both sat down. “It’s great to meet you, too.  Craig told me you were visiting.  Where are you from?”

“Virginia originally, but I moved to Atlanta a couple years back.”

“My dad bought a hotel in Virginia Beach a year ago.  He just finished renovating it.  It’s absolutely gorgeous,” I answered while pouring some beer into a glass.

Declan laughed and said to Craig, “Damn, are you trying to get me into trouble, Everest?  She’s gorgeous
and
rich.  What have you gotten me into?”

“And she’s a socialite, according to Philadelphia’s most accurate newspaper,” Taylor laughed with a raise of her eyebrows.