Page 68 of Lie With Me

I don’t even make it halfway home before I have the driver turn around and head to Lenni’s. She’s always been adamant about me not seeing her home, but atthe moment, I don’t care. My conscience doesn’t allow me to leave her to deal with her distress by herself. Not when I’ve unintentionally added fuel to her wildly out-of-control emotional fire.

West 26th is quiet when we arrive. One side of the street looks like newer buildings, while the other side, the one Lenni lives on, is all old brick that’s falling apart with boarded up windows to multiple businesses that have closed permanently.

Her Chelsea apartment is nestled between a Cantonese restaurant and a nail salon—a single black door leading to walk-up style residences. It’s locked, and I usually have to call or buzz the door to let her know I’m here. Luck is on my side, though, when a man leaves the building, catching the door for me when he sees me jogging toward it from the car.

Taking the stairs two at a time to the third floor, I try not to sound like a cop as I bang on her door. “It’s Tripp. Open up.”

For all I know, she didn’t even come home. A knife twists in my gut at the thought that she may have gone to Désirer. It’s Friday, and she once told me Friday’s were one of her busiest nights.

The pinching in my stomach releases when I hear sounds coming from the other side of the door. Her voice is muffled, but I can still make out that she’s been crying as she asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Open the door, Viv. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” Bracing my arms on either side of the doorframe, I drill holes into the wood between us with my eyes, hoping she’ll let me in.

A door on the other side of the hall behind me opens, and an elderly woman pokes her head out. “You’ve got the wrong door, sonny. Ain’t no one lives there by the name of Viv.”

“Inside joke,” I explain, looking back to the door when I hear the click of a lock.

And another.

And another.

And another.

What are you hiding from?

Honeyed orbs peer out at me from between a crack as she opens the door, and then, with the slide of one more lock, she opens it completely. Her eyes are glassy and rimmed in red from the tears she’s shed, the tip of her nose pink as if she’s been rubbing at both. She’s changed into an oversized pair of gray sweats with the waist rolled down and a small white top that barely covers her ample breasts.

Despite the situation, my cock stirs in my pants, as it usually does whenever she’s near. “Talk to me.”

I prepare for her to fight me, but her face crumbles as a fresh batch of tears falls down her flushed cheeks. Pulling her into me, I walk us backward as she buries her face in my chest. Closing the door behind me, I study the numerous locks. “What is all of this about?”

Her fists grip my shirt tighter, her tears coming faster—harder—and I begin to worry about what’s going on in a way I haven’t before. Kissing the top of her head, I gather her in my arms and carry her overto a red loveseat in the living room. “Valentina, are you in some kind of trouble?”

She curls around me as we sit, burying her face in my neck. “I’m sorry. I’m such a fucking mess,” she sobs.

“We’re all fucking messes, babe. Some of us just have the means to cover it up with good suits and fat checks.”

It takes another few minutes, but she finally calms down. I take the time to study her apartment. It’s all painted white brick and cold linoleum flooring covered in brightly-colored mismatched rugs. The kitchen is smaller than my half bath, with appliances that look like they’ve seen better days, and a door on the other side of it leads to a small bathroom. It looks like she’s tried to breathe a little life into the sterile place, but it doesn’t screamhometo me.

Grabbing a white and gray faux rabbit throw from the back of the loveseat, she wraps it around herself and crawls out of my lap to settle next to me. “I didn’t want to drag you intomymess.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” Reaching out, I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Now what’s going on?”

Her cheeks puff out dramatically as she blows air out between her lips. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“How about at the beginning?”

She stares distantly at a spot on the wall. “You won’t look at me the same after you hear what I have to say.” Her gaze locks on mine, and I pick up herhand to thread our fingers together. “But honestly, I’m tired of keeping it all to myself. And I want to tell you because…because you’re right. I’m running from this thing between us. I’ve been running from my past for a long time, and I just need to catch my breath.”

“Whatever it is, we can take care of it,” I tell her softly. Cupping her cheek with the hand that isn’t laced with hers, I rub at her tear tracks with my thumb.

“It isn’t that easy.” She takes a large breath and tips her head back before exhaling deeply. “When I was a little girl, my momma sold me for drugs.”

My brows furrow, and my breath catches in my lungs, going as still as the waters in an undisturbed lake. Surely she doesn’t mean…

“Men would pleasure themselves while I sat on the floor, naked. I don’t need to get into specifics, but I’m sure you can imagine. When I was old enough, she started letting them have sex with me.”

Tears line her eyes again. She won’t look at me, and I’m thankful for that because I feel like I’m about to throw up. Horror grips my chest. The kind that fills you when you’re watching a scary movie and the music makes everything seem so much worse. When you’re waiting for that jump scare, but it still hits you unexpectedly. My heart hammers against my rib cage, shredding its bloody knuckles on the bones and dripping acid rage into my stomach.

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