Page 57 of Tell Me Lies: Manlove Edition

A human figure disappears behind another door. “I was about to have a shower. Just got back from the show.” An American accent! Our harlequin is even more intriguing. A quick pulse beats in my neck. Who is this guy? And what is a fellow American doing here in the Spanish pampa?

The woman and Mira-Me push me further in so they can fit inside and close the door behind them. The tiny room has just enough space for a small-sized double bed and a chestnut side table with a vintage lamp on top. But not an additional three people. Mira-Me and I stand awkwardly at the foot of the bed making ourselves small while the woman raps on the bathroom door. “They’re here to apologize!”

A muffled, “What?” comes through the wood pane before it opens again. There’s Robin the street harlequin in full circus galore, makeup and costume and all, but looking very human with thin eyes indicating tiredness and sweat beads down his temples leaving traces in the white paint. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“He—” The woman turns to point at me. “That guy over there, he wants to apologize for his rude behavior.”

Oh, yeah, I’m the center of attention. Three pairs of eyes fix on me, waiting. I wish I hadn’t had those beers earlier, so my head was clearer now that the moment has arrived for me to man up and apologize. I take a deep breath and splay my fingers. “Well, I’m sorry I bullied you. I went over the line.”

Robin nods, but the two women stare at me as though my apology is too short or something.

I tell them with a frown, “I didn’t mean to be a brute, okay? I was stressed, but it’s not a reason to—”

Robin raises a hand and smiles. “It’s all right. No harm done. Thanks for coming.” He indicates the bed. “Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable?”

You don’t need to ask Mira-Me twice. She lies on the mattress like it’s her own, leans against the bedstand, and pulls out her phone. “This is so cool. I gotta post it to my story.”

Robin tilts his head. “As long as you don’t take pictures of me.”

“Or me.” The female harlequin plops down beside her with a yawn, using the remaining bed space to spread her long limbs. “I’m beat. The last show was a killer.”

Her facial makeup makes it impossible to guess her age, but judging from her flat boobs, slim waist, and hips that can’t possibly have carried a child, she must be in her late twenties, early thirties. Oh, and judging from her behavior, so at ease on Robin’s bed, she must be his girlfriend. The smallest hint of jealousy teases me, but I ignore it like most times that I see a hot guy and know he’s taken.

Well, this leaves me to stand a bit alone in the tiny hallway. I lean cross-armed against the wall and watch Robin as he turns back inside the bathroom with the door left open.

He takes off his pointy clown hat, revealing dark, sweaty curls plastered to his head. He sets the hat on the toilet seat and proceeds to remove the makeup. The mirror reflects the image of him using cotton pads to slowly uncover his real face, the person behind the mask. But just one side—before suddenly looking at me in the mirror and giving me a broad smile.

Okay, caught me staring. But it doesn’t bother me. I’m amused. Even now when he is tired, he plays the clown and I find it charming. Half his face is tanned skin covering high cheekbones, with a Roman nose over full lips and a glowing emerald for an eye. A feline eye but void of danger. His gaze exudes warmth. And humor. And depth of soul. Mesmerizing.

He says to me in the mirror, “You didn’t answer my message.”

“Where?” I blink. It takes me a second to process the memory. “On Facebook? That was you?”

A nod. “You read it but didn’t reply.”

I slap my forehead. “I just saw the first words, then Mira-Me interrupted me.” I nod my chin to the girl on the bed. She’s still texting, but her eyes are heavy with sleep. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply.”

“It’s okay. I thought you were angry with me and I wanted to apologize.”

“You? Apologize?”

A smile. “Yeah, for pulling your leg. I went over the line, too. I should’ve stopped when I saw how upset you were becoming. I should’ve understood and let you go. But it was too tempting, with that fancy limo of yours and all.”

I grimace. “It’s hers. She’s the boss.” Kind of an odd thing for a grown man to say about a young girl. If I wasn’t so thick-skinned and careless about my life, our opposed roles could very well be an embarrassment.

“Figures, from how you two behaved.” He picks up a cotton pad and removes the other side of his face paint, little by little uncovering handsome, manly features.

I can’t say I’m not impressed. My heart thuds in my chest and I don’t want to tear my eyes away from the mirror.

When he’s done, he rubs his face in a towel and sends me a look. “Do you recognize me?”

I frown. There’s something in the back of my mind saying I’ve seen him before, but it’s the same as with his name—which I can’t even remember now (you know me and my beer brain). I can’t place him. I’ve seen a lot of people in my thirty-eight years, especially during the time I was a cop.

He gives a sad shake of his head. “You don’t.”

“Where from?”

Instead of replying, he pulls on his shirt and struggles as sweat glues the fabric to his torso. He stops pulling when half the shirt is over his head with his arms stuck. It’s actually quite funny. He stumbles out of the bathroom unable to see anything and groans a curse. “You mind giving me a hand?”

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