Page 67 of An Honest Lie

He’d shoved her down, hard. The back of her head hit the table and she moaned, dropping her chin to her chest, dizzy. He didn’t use the handcuffs to secure her to the table this time: Rainy saw him reach for his pocket, where he pulled out pink zip ties. He secured her arms around the table leg with the zip ties before he took off the cuffs and tossed them aside. Pink zip ties. She almost asked if he’d ordered them on Amazon, but she wanted a shot at some water.

Pink, pink, your feet stink!She could hear her dad yelling that across their small apartment living room before charging for her: the tickle monster. Had he been high when he’d done that? Drunk? On a sober kick? Did she care? He was never scary to her; his sideburns were too big to be taken seriously and his laugh was contagious. Pink. She felt encouraged: this was so stupid and yet so real. Her dad had taught her how to break someone’s nose with her forehead; he’d demonstrated it many times in their living room. She’d thought it was hilarious, especially when he mimicked grabbing an imaginary someone by their shirt collar and rearing back his head, to “head-bash” them as he’d called it.“This is how you do it, Summer, are you watching?”Little had she known how that lesson would serve her now.

“Time out for noisemaking?” she asked. He didn’t look at her, not in the mood for jokes after getting his ass beat, she supposed.Oh, how smug you are, tied-up woman!she told herself. Either way, she could see the dark bruises beneath his eyes and it pleased her somewhere deep and feral: she’d got him good.Thanks, Dad.

Ginger had said no one could hear them because the restaurant was in a wing that was being remodeled, yet he was never winded when he arrived with his armful of groceries. That meant the elevators were probably working, and Ginger—as staff—would have access to the key codes that would allow him up here. He didn’t seem at all worried about the sound.

When she looked over at Braithe, she was sitting up. It took a minute for Rainy’s mind to catch up to what she was seeing. She tried to say Braithe’s name, but it caught in her dry throat.

“Rainy—” Braithe’s voice was so shocking in the silence that for a few seconds Rainy’s tongue stayed glued to the roof of her mouth as she tried to work it free.

“Rainy...” she said again, more desperately.

“Y—es. I’m here.” It had not felt real until now, a fever dream, but with Braithe’s cracked voice filling the room, Rainy started to wake up.

“I’m so sorry. I never imagined...” It sounded like it hurt for her to speak. Rainy saw her look longingly toward the water bottle. She made a noise that sounded like she was trying to clear her throat. She knew it was ridiculous, given the situation they were in, but she needed to know.

“He’ll come back soon. What happened between you and Grant during the baby shower?”

The kitchen retuned to an awkward silence. Rainy could hear Braithe’s labored breaths.

“Nothing,” she said finally. “God, absolutely nothing.”

“But you tried...”

Her answer came slower this time, labored. “Yes, I tried.”

“Why did you pretend to be my friend?” She licked her lips. Everything hurt.

“That was real. I like you.”

Rainy tried to laugh but it was just a crackle. Braithe had used her to have more access to Grant: the couples’ nights, the dinners, had put her in his life more soundly than it had with just her and Stephen. Now, in light of everything, she was seeing Braithe differently. Not as the elegant, kind friend, but as a conniving, manipulative liar. Maybe she had liked Rainy, but it was only to use her.

“But you liked Grant more.”

“Yes, I suppose you could see it like that. At first, I thought I was making the right choice, with Stephen,” she said softly. “He was so good to me, and Grant...well, he was never as into me as I was into him, if I’m being honest. When we were together, I was like an afterthought. I suppose that’s when the addiction really started.”

“The addiction to what, Braithe? To Grant? To wanting what you don’t have?”

“That’s fair... I get it. But he didn’t want me back, Rainy. And I don’t know what’s going to happen here, but you should know that.”

Rainy leaned her head forward and hit it backward against the table leg. It hurt but it felt good, woke her up a little. She wasn’t going to thank Braithe for telling her that Grant wouldn’t cheat on her. This woman was not her friend.

“He’s who you were talking about the night we played that game.” It wasn’t a question, and Braithe didn’t try to answer it. “And you’re the one who asked my question, not Tara. What were you going to do if I didn’t draw that question? Use it as an opening to ask me, anyway?”

Braithe’s silence confirmed that she was correct.

“Did you call Grant that night?”

Even in the dim light, Rainy could see her head bounce in a nod.

“Yeah. I called to tell him again how I felt.”

“And what did he say to you?” Did she really want to know? That night, she’d tried to call Grant herself, and he’d sent her calls to voice mail because he had Braithe on the other line, pouring out her feelings. Why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t Viola said something? They’d all just let her be a fool. Anger at all of them burned in her chest, so much it almost made her cry out.

There was a long pause. Rainy wasn’t sure if Braithe was crying. She did not care, she did not. The last year of her life had been a complete lie.

“That he didn’t feel the same way.”

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