Two Truths and a Lie (18 page)

She shrugged. “It’s one of those days where it’s a little hard to be Sutton Mercer. I would give anything to get out of here. Get a break from being Sutton for a while.”

A wrinkle formed on Ethan’s brow, and then he held up one finger in an
aha
gesture. “Absolutely. And I know exactly where I can take you.”

Three hours later, Ethan angled his car off of Route 10 at an exit marked
PHOENIX
. Emma frowned. “Can’t you tell me
something
about where we’re going?”

“Nope,” Ethan said, a sly smile playing across his lips. “Just that it’s somewhere no one has ever heard of Sutton Mercer, Emma Paxton, or Thayer Vega.”

I wanted to laugh. When I was alive, I had the notion that everyone had heard of me—
everywhere.
And it was sweet that Ethan had driven my twin all the way to Phoenix to get her away from the madness.

Once off the highway, Ethan turned down a dilapidated downtown Phoenix street lined with big Dumpsters overflowing with drywall scraps, broken glass, and empty paint cans. An unfinished apartment building loomed over the street, boasting a sign that said units would be available for rent starting in November. Taking in the windowless façade, Emma seriously doubted that claim was true.

“Okay, now will you tell me?” Emma begged when Ethan pulled off the creepy back alley and into a parking lot, coming to a stop in front of an old Art Deco–style hotel.

“Patience, patience!” Ethan teased, undoing his seat belt. He slammed his car door shut and stretched languorously, making a show of taking his time.

Emma tapped her foot. “I’m waiting.”

He made his way around the car and put his arms around her. “Waiting for what?” he asked. “This?” He lowered his lips to hers, and she kissed him back, relaxing into his embrace.

She smiled when they broke apart, her entire body tingling. Then she burst out laughing. “Wait a minute. Did you drive me all the way to Phoenix just so we could make out in public?”

“No, that’s just an added bonus.” Ethan turned and gestured to the Art Deco hotel. “We’re here to see a show by my favorite band, the No Names.”

“The No Names?” Emma echoed. “Never heard of them.”

“They’re awesome—punk rock but with a bluesy edge. You’ll love them.”

He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and led her inside the hotel, which was seemingly stuck in a fifties time warp. There were kitschy turquoise-and salmon-colored tribal designs on the walls, deco light fixtures, and even an old cash register behind the concierge desk instead of a sleek flat-screen computer. A metal sign pointed to the club at the back of the lobby, though it wasn’t particularly necessary—Emma could hear the thudding bass and amplifier feedback as soon as they swept through the revolving doors. The air had an odor of cigarettes, cheap beer, and sweaty dancing bodies. A bunch of too-cool-for-the-show kids hung out in the lobby, smoking and checking out the newcomers.

After they paid the ten-dollar cover, Emma and Ethan made their way into the club. The room was large, square, and dark except for the lights on the stage and a bunch of Christmas lights around the bar area, which was on a raised platform at the back. There were bodies everywhere—guys who refused to move, girls who swayed with their eyes closed, caught in their own musical dreams, lines of kids six deep, all with arms entwined. A few of them glanced at Emma with boredom. Any other time, she would have been intimidated by their aloofness, but today it was deliciously welcome. No one recognized her. She didn’t have baggage here. She was just a random No Names fan, like everyone else.

Emma edged toward the bar, tapping what felt like hundreds of shoulders and murmuring millions of
’scuse me
s and
sorry
s. The noise on stage was so loud that Emma’s ears immediately began to feel muffled and full.

Ethan and Emma reached the bar, crumpling against the counters as if they’d just braved a hurricane. The bartender set coasters in front of them and they both ordered beers. Emma spied the last empty table, threw her bag over the back of the chair, and peered at the stage. A three-piece band was in the middle of a fast, growling song. The drummer writhed, octopuslike. The bass player rocked back and forth from one foot to the other, his long hair obscuring his face. The lead singer, who had shocking pink hair, stood in the middle of the stage, strumming violently on the guitar and singing seductively into the microphone.

Emma stared at her, transfixed. She had piled her hair on top of her head in a fifties-style beehive, and she was wearing a sleek black dress, black boots, fishnet stockings, and long, black silk gloves. If only she could be as uninhibited and cool.

“You’re right! This band is awesome,” Emma yelled to Ethan.

He smiled and clinked his beer with hers, bobbing his head to the beat. Emma peered into the crowd some more. The light created halos around the tops of people’s heads. A lot of kids were dancing. Others were taking photos with their phones. A bunch of fans were crammed against the stage—a lot of them were guys, probably hoping for a look up the lead singer’s dress.

“My friend Alex from Henderson would be all over this scene,” Emma said sadly. “She loved going to shows like this. She was the one who introduced me to every cool band I listen to.”

The disco ball flashed over Ethan’s face, illuminating his blue eyes. “Maybe I can meet her when all this is over with.”

“I’d like that,” Emma said. Alex and Ethan would love each other—they were both into poetry and didn’t care at all what other people thought of them.

Once they finished their drinks, Emma pulled Ethan from his stool and dragged him onto the dance floor. Ethan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly a great dancer.”

“Neither am I,” Emma shouted over the music. “But no one here knows us, so who cares?”

She grabbed his hand and spun him around. He spun her back with a laugh, and they began dancing together, jumping and shimmying to the music.

When the No Names finished their set, Emma was exhausted and covered in sweat, but she felt light as a silk dress.

“There’s something else I want to show you,” Ethan said, pointing to an emergency-exit door and directing her through a dark, dripping hallway beyond it. A heavy metal door off to the side said
OBSERVATION DECK
. Ethan nudged it open and they climbed up a narrow stairwell.

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Emma asked nervously, her shoes echoing on the metal risers.

“Yep,” Ethan said. “Almost there.”

At the top, they pushed through another heavy door and emerged into the open air. The observation deck wasn’t much more than a flat roof with a couple of ratty teak chaises and end tables, a trash can overflowing with empty bottles of Corona Light, and a large potted fern that looked half dead, but the city of Phoenix surrounded her, full of lights and sparkle and noise.

“It’s beautiful!” Emma breathed. “How did you know this was up here?”

Ethan walked over to the railing and tipped his face up to the night sky. “My mom was sick for a while. She had a lot of doctor’s appointments around here. I got to know the city pretty well.”

“Is she … okay?” Emma asked softly. Ethan had never told her about his mom being sick.

Ethan shrugged, seeming a little closed off. “I guess so. As good as she can be.” He stared out at the twinkling lights. “She had cancer. But she’s okay now, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma breathed.

“It’s cool,” Ethan said. “I was the one who helped her through it, though. You know how I told you my dad practically lives in San Diego? Well, he never came back for any of her chemo treatments. It blew.”

“Maybe he couldn’t deal with her being sick,” Emma said. “Some people don’t handle that stuff very well.”

“Yeah, well, he
should
have,” Ethan snapped, his eyes flashing.

Emma backed off. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Ethan shut his eyes. “
I’m
sorry.” He sighed. “I’ve never really told anyone about my mom. But, well, I want us to be totally honest with each other. I want us to share everything. Even if it’s bad. I hope you share everything with me, too.”

Emma breathed in, feeling both touched and horribly guilty. There was something
huge
she wasn’t sharing with Ethan: the prank against him. Should she say something? Would he be angry that she’d let it go on for so long without telling him? Maybe it was better just to say nothing and figure out a way to thwart the prank before it happened. What Ethan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Way to be totally honest, Sis. But I understood the predicament she was in.

Emma wrapped her arms around Ethan’s waist and leaned her cheek against his back. He turned around and hugged her to him, kissing her forehead. “Can we stay here forever?” she asked with a sigh. “It’s so wonderful not being Sutton for once. Just being …
me
.”

“We can stay as long as you’d like,” Ethan promised. “Or, well, at least until we have to go to school tomorrow.”

Cars honked on the streets below. A helicopter zoomed overhead, sending a single white beam to a source near the mountains. A car alarm blared, cycling through a series of irritating beeps and whoops and buzzes until someone shut it off.

But as she stood warm and safe in Ethan’s arms, Emma decided this was the most romantic date she’d ever been on.

16

On Sunday afternoon, Emma, Madeline, Charlotte, Laurel, and the Twitter Twins waited in line at Pam’s Pretzels, a shoddy stand propped in a corner of La Encantada on the outskirts of Tucson. Even though Sutton’s friends had sworn off carbs, the pretzels were worth breaking their diets for. They were covered in Mexican
queso
and contained a spice combination that was, as Madeline put it, “better than sex.” The smell of baked bread and mustard infused the air. Customers swooned as they took big, doughy bites. One woman looked like she was actually going to faint with pleasure as she chewed.

The line was long, and a bunch of college-age boys in band T-shirts and long, grungy hair stood in front of them. Madeline was inching away from them as though they had fleas. Charlotte, whose flaming red hair was tied back in a severe bun, elbowed Laurel, who was busy texting something to Caleb. “Does that bring back fond memories?” she said, gesturing to a four-by-four-foot raised garden box covered with felt.

Laurel giggled at what Charlotte was pointing at. “That Christmas tree was
so
much heavier than it looked. And I had tinsel in my hair for days.” She shook her hair around for effect.

Madeline covered her mouth and let out a snort. “That was priceless.”

“Seriously,” Emma said, even though she had no idea what the girls were talking about—probably an old Lying Game prank.

The line moved quickly, and soon it was the Twitter Twins’ turn. “One pretzel with queso, extra dipping sauce.” Lili shifted her weight from one black knee-high stiletto boot to the other. The other girls ordered more or less the same thing, and once the pretzels were ready they carried them to a courtyard table and sat down. Only Emma and Madeline lingered at the fixin’s bar, slowly salting their treats.

Emma looked around. The outdoor mall was bustling today with girls in short shorts, batwing-sleeved blouses, and high wedge heels. Everyone toted carrier bags from Tiffany, Anthropologie, and Tory Burch. She craned her neck and noticed the vintage store on the second level. Not long ago, she and Madeline had gone to that vintage store and had a great time. She’d felt like
Emma
that day, not The Girl Who Was Supposed to Be Sutton.