Page 90 of Between Now and Always

My fury from that day has fermented into rage in the days since our phone call. The satisfaction in his voice made swallowing my pride really hard. But I did it. And I’d do it again.

“Expose what?” she asks, impatience sharpens her voice sending it an octave higher and several decibels louder. My nerves shimmer, but I hold them steady.

She has every right to yell, I remind myself.

“Expose us as being related. He already had an offer from some publisher wanting to buy the rights to story. That kind of story…it could do real damage. Not just to me and you me. But the band. Our families. ”

She looks incredulous. “ Let him say whatever he wants. Who would have believed him? And we have proof that its’ a lie.”

My smile is dark and shallow.

“No one cares aboutproof, Beth. They care about what sells. And sure, we could show them a piece of paper. But Obama showed us his birth certificate and the people who wanted to believe that he wasn’t born here, said it was fake. Nothing will convince people, once they think something is true.

“This is bullshit, why would anyone print something like that when it’s just his word? They would need proof. And he doesn’t have any.” She’s vibrating with anger.

My stomach roils, I haven’t even gotten to the hard part.

“He has proof…” I say and let that linger.

She stiffens and tilts her head the side.

“What proof? I know my father didn’t give copies of your DNA test.” She eyes me suspiciously.

“No. He has my copies,” I tell her.

“What? How?” she demands, her eyes shuttering slightly as her mind, one that moves too fast for her mouth to keep up with, answers the question for her.

I’m gripped by the compulsion to lie. Not because I want to deceive her. It’s a reflex. Self-preservation. That same thing that makes it impossible for human beings to voluntarily hold their breath until they die, it’s telling me to let open my mouth and take an inhale.

Why does she need to know the truth? What good would it do for her to know?

Those are the things I told myself when I decided to hide this from her. But if I lie now, then I’m no better than the men who came before me. And if it costs me a momentary loss of her good regard, I’ll take it. I can grovel my way back from pissing her off.

“I want to lie to you,” I tell her and she blinks.

I dive through the window it affords me. “I slept with someone and now she and Duke are blackmailing me.” I blurt. Her mouth slams shut. She swallows like there’s a tennis ball stuck her throat.

“What?” she croaks.

I tell her all about Serene. “So, I came back in and she was gone and so was my suitcase. At the time, I thought she stole it for the cash. I was annoyed that I lost those records, but I figured she’d take the cash and trash them. Well, apparently she’s a friend of Duke’s or something. Because he has all of the documents. When she was here, that first time – when I…” I can’t look at her and I can’t finish my sentence.

“When you fucked her?” Beth says, and I flinch at the acid in her voice.

“She took pictures…And he has them.”

She moans, and the pain in it rips me in half. I open my eyes and almost throw up when I see her sitting, arms wrapped around herself, her expression stoic, but haunted.

“Beth.”

I stand to approach her, but the look she in her eyes stops me cold.

I sit again and she looks away from me, her eyes focused on the blank television screen, her teeth chewing at her bottom lip.

“Just finish telling me,” she says in a toneless voice.

“So, I paid him double what he asked for.”

She groans and shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything.

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