Dirty Little Liars (10 page)

She stepped back against the counter and searched for a distraction. She grabbed the nearest cupcake and held it out in front of him.

“Here.”

“I can have one?” he asked.

“Yes, but you need to leave now.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?”

She sighed loudly. “I don’t really care what you want, Tyler. What if someone saw you come here? It’s not that hard to figure out who I am. If they put two and two together and the story of your cheating rears its ugly head again…”

“So what?” He pulled the liner from the bottom of the cupcake. “I lose the election. I don’t get married. Name one bad thing that comes out of all of it.”

“How about my face all over the nation’s largest newspapers. I’ll be branded as that whore who broke up your engagement. It never turns out well for the other woman.”

“You aren’t the other woman,” he muttered into the cupcake. “You’re the woman.”

He took a bite and chewed without taking his eyes off her. She stopped breathing as she watched him, wanting his words to be true. But if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that Tyler Chase was an excellent liar.

“If you don’t love her, than maybe you should tell her that.”

“Why are you so worried about Courtney?”

“Because she’s my friend.”

His laugh was a bitter slap in the face. “You’ve known her for what—a few weeks?”

“Nearly two months.” It didn’t sound any more impressive and she almost wished she hadn’t said anything at all. She was making his case for him. “And who cares how long I’ve known her. The point is that I think she’s a good person—a decent person. She doesn’t deserve a cheating fiancé who doesn’t love her and is only using her for political gain.”

“And what are you using her for?”

“Excuse me?”

He set the half-eaten cupcake on the counter. “I think it’s a huge coincidence that the day after we slept together you have the sudden desire to befriend the woman I’m dating. It’s not sane. In fact, it’s kind of creepy. Stalker creepy.”

“So now I’m a stalker? You’re the one that keeps showing up at my doorstep unannounced. How the hell did you people even get my address?”

That shut him up, but only for a second.

“Fine, maybe we’ve both done some slightly questionable activities in the last few weeks.”

That was the understatement of the century.

“But right now, Courtney is content with our original story. Telling her about the affair will only hurt her. I know you think that I’m a complete jerk, but I never meant to hurt her.”

“Then why agree to marry her?” Juliette’s words flew out at him like daggers. He instinctively took a step back.

“It’s complicated. But please believe me when I say that no one is going into this agreement blind.”

“Agreement? You’re getting married not selling off a company.”

“Courtney wants this, which means her father wants this. My goal is to make him happy. At least until the election.”

Juliette picked at the tray of cookies in front of her. She busied herself with transferring the warm cookies onto the wire cooling rack. Anything to keep from looking at Tyler.

“You can’t say anything,” he continued. “Courtney is as complicated as it gets. Not everyone can handle her the way I can.”

“Handle?”

“Think of her as a live grenade. There are ways to safely contain the explosion but it has to be done under the right conditions.”

“Fine. I won't say anything. But this thing between the two of us is over. And that means no showing up at my doorstep day and night looking all sinful and delicious.”

“You think I’m delicious?”

Juliette grabbed his jacket and dragged him to the door. “Did I say delicious? I meant to say, disgusting and pathetic.” She jerked the door open. “You need to leave. Now.”

He gave her one long, wistful glance before parting. That same look of longing that left her heart aching for more.

Chapter 22: Good Intentions

That night Juliette tossed and turned as she found herself trapped in a nightmare featuring Courtney and Ty. The perfect political couple, announcing their wedding and walking down the aisle in a magnificent Catholic church the size of a small palace. She dreamed of Courtney beaming in a beautiful white dress. She dreamed that Courtney designated her as maid of honor. And then right when the minister asked if there were any objections to the wedding, a voice from the back of the chapel would cry out, “I object!” The words boomed off the stained glass windows and gilded chandeliers. All eyes turned toward Juliette and the guests screamed out at her. Traitor! Whore! Harlot!

It was the same dream over and over and each time she woke in a drenched sweat.

The third time she climbed out of bed and padded into the living room, swiping another cookie from the countertop as she went. She settled down into the sofa and clicked on the TV. Then she began mindlessly flicking through the channels, searching for a distraction.

She found herself nervously reaching for her phone and scanning her emails. She was so miserable she wanted to text Courtney right now and confess. She didn’t care what she had promised Ty. Their lies had gone too far. And what if Courtney found out the truth before she finished her assignment? It would devastate their friendship and she would have to explain to Covington why she shouldn’t go within a twenty-foot radius of her mark.

She set the phone down. Tyler was right. Courtney was going to be upset either way. If she told her the truth now it would only make things worse.

Another ten minutes crept by. Juliette was groggy and tired, but she didn’t want to have that same dream for a fourth time. The sugar failed to keep her awake. She headed to the kitchen to grab a fresh bottle of wine. Her eyes lingered on the liquor cabinet.
Maybe this is an occasion for something a little stronger?

She set the wine bottle down and opened the cupboard door. She scanned the clear bottles until her hand stopped in front of an unopened bottle of tequila. That would be perfect.

She grabbed it by the neck, moved back to the fridge to grab a lemon and then reached for a salt shaker near the stove. She carried her ensemble to the coffee table and got to work. Fifteen minutes and two shots later she was already feeling a little tipsy. She sat sprawled out on the living room floor surfing YouTube videos.

Her computer chimed and a bubble popped up on the corner of the window. It was an instant message from Margaret.

Margs2.0: Hey fabulous bitch. What are you doing up so late?

Jules2381: I could ask you the same thing.

Juliette was pretty certain she misspelled a few of those words.

Margs2.0: Not that late. I’m three hours behind you, remember?

Jules2381: yeps.

She wanted to say more but the typing required too much brain power.

Jules2381: Turn on your webcam. I don’t want to type anymore. Too much work.

Margaret agreed and in less than ten seconds she received a request to share video with her roommate.

Her bright face and bushy brown hair immediately filled the screen.

“Hey beautiful,” she said and then frowned. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Juliette looked down at her shirt. It had a giant pink Care Bear on it standing in front of a rainbow. She had bought it on a whim one day, liking the retro feel. But she had never had the courage to wear it in public. With her roommate gone, she had pulled out the shirt from the back of her closet and clung to it like a five-year-old with a security blanket. It didn’t help that there was a chocolate stain over her left boob.

“It’s been a rough day,” Juliette shrugged.

Margaret squinted at the monitor. “Is that tequila?”

“Yes, would you like to do a virtual shot with me?”

“Sure, but only if you promise to tell me what’s really going on.”

Juliette licked the salt off the back of her hand, lifted the shot glass to her lips, and tipped her head back. The liquor burned as it moved down her throat. She winced at the sour taste as she sucked on another lemon wedge. Then she tossed the rind into the glass before glancing back up at her friend. “What do you want to know?”

“How about you start at the beginning?” Margaret reappeared with her own bottle of alcohol, El Toro, Juliette was guessing from the little red sombrero shaped lid.

So that’s exactly what Juliette did. She told Margs everything. Well, everything having to do with Tyler Chase and the secret affair. And it was a relief to get it all off her chest. By the time she was finished she had polished off more than a half dozen shots and Margs was not far behind. And instead of making her tired, the liquor seemed to have the opposite effect. She was ready to throw caution to the wind. To do something completely and totally crazy. And she could do that, because it was only—she glanced at the clock—three a.m.

“I think you should tell her everything,” Margaret said, surprising the hell out of Juliette. “Why should some slick politician get to jerk you around and then beg and plead that you keep his dirty little secrets so that he doesn’t ruin his chances at re-election?”

“It’s not like I didn’t have a say in the matter. I was kind of a willing participant. I mean, I’m the cheating whore in this equation.”

“Oh for God’s sake, stop with the guilt trip. He didn’t tell you he was involved with someone when you first met. That’s his fault not yours. And the motel, well, any red-blooded woman is going to react to someone all dreamy and naked in bed with them. It was like he was setting you up to fail so that you would feel too guilty to challenge him on this.”

Juliette slammed her hand down on the coffee table and Margaret jumped on the other side of the computer screen.

“You are so effing right,” Juliette declared. “It
was
his fault. And Courtney
totally
needs to know what a lying ass he is. I’m going to call her and tell her right now.” Juliette scanned the space around her. “Where the hell is my phone?”

She ran her hands over the sofa cushions, lifted the tasseled pillows, she even bent over and peeked under the couch, but her phone was nowhere to be found.

“Okay, so maybe tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow’s no good. You’ll just back out of it if I’m not around.”

“Unless you’ve got a spare phone I can use, it’s not going to happen tonight.”

“So write her an email.”

Juliette laughed again. “I could barely type two hours ago. I’m pretty sure my spell check would implode.”

Margaret clapped her hands and began bouncing up and down on her knees. She lifted the laptop closer, the webcam zoomed in on her face. “Make a video! Like one of those secret confessions they post on that site My Dirty Little Secrets.”

Juliette considered it for a moment. A video sounded fun but there was no way in hell she would ever post a confession online.

“You don’t have to post it publicly. You can make a private video. It gets sent from the website directly to whoever you want to see it.”

And for some reason, at that exact moment in time, Juliette figured the idea of a video confession was a fantastic one. And she recorded a thirty-second confession with her webcam, just before passing out on the sofa.

Chapter 23: Gone Wrong

Juliette woke with a roaring headache and a crick in her neck from sleeping with her head on the couch arm. She winced as she surveyed the damage to her apartment. The laptop computer had gone into standby mode and her roommate was long gone, but the evidence of their virtual tequila fest was still present. The previously full bottle was now empty. Multiple shot glasses lined the table and lemon wedges were scattered across the hardwood floors.

“Oh my God.”

She stared at the laptop as if it were going to come to life and eat her. It wasn’t like in the movies, where you get drunk and can’t remember anything that happened the night before. As she stared at the blackened monitor she remembered everything—the confession to her friend, the overwhelming guilt she was attempting to chase away with hard liquor. But most of all she remembered the video confession she sent to Courtney.

Juliette jabbed the power button and her computer roared to life. She didn’t have to click very far to find what she was looking for. The still open window showed a confirmation message, stating her video confession had been mailed to [email protected].

Holy crap.

Juliette went to her own email, expecting some irate message from her friend. But there was nothing there. Then she jumped up and scanned the area for her phone. Where the hell was it?

She raced to her bedroom and found the phone sitting on her nightstand, but when she picked it up she saw that there were no missed calls or texts. She also saw that it was only 6:45 a.m. Courtney didn’t have her first class until ten. There was a good chance she wasn’t even up yet.

Juliette grabbed her phone, jacket, and keys. She slipped into a pair of ballet flats and ran out the door, dialing Ty’s number as she charged down the steps. A decision she later regretted. Apparently there was still plenty of liquor floating around in her system. She nearly tripped and would have fallen down the last three steps if it hadn’t been for her death grip on the handrail.

Ty didn’t answer after the first four rings and the voicemail clicked on. She didn’t leave a message. They didn’t need any more incriminating evidence of their relationship. Come to think of it, maybe they should get burner phones. Those were supposed to be untraceable, right?

She shook her head and dialed a cab company instead. She needed a ride and at this hour she wasn’t likely to find a taxi on the streets near her apartment. Once that was done, she redialed Ty. Twice. The third time she gave in. “Ty, it’s me. Meet me at Courtney’s place, ASAP.”

She hoped to God he would get the message in time. She needed to warn him about what might happen. Then she had a horrible thought. What if Ty was already at Courtney’s? They were engaged, after all, it wasn’t completely out of the question.

A cab pulled up and she climbed inside and gave him the address. Thankfully the ride to GWU would cost less than five bucks. She was running through cash almost as fast as she was running through lies.