Page 17 of The Lies
“Yeah, that too. So what the fuck is going on with my dick of a brother? He’s vanished into thin air. None of us have heard from him in weeks.”
I take a deep breath before revealing Edward’s well hidden secret. “He’s got a gambling problem, Ju.”
“He’s got a fucking what?” she screeches.
“Everything’s gone. He’s basically bankrupt. Our accounts are empty, the apartment re-mortgaged, he’s defaulted on loans he’s taken out in both his and my names. It’s—”
“Shit.”
“You don’t say. He’s left me with nothing other than the contents of the apartment. He offered me my job back, which was why I was going to come back to make some money but well…you know how that went.”
“What about the business?” Juliette asks, and I have to admit in all my turmoil I hadn’t even thought of that. Not that it would now affect me in any way. “Didn’t Dad hand it all over?”
“I don’t know the details, Ju, I’m sorry.” I may not be overly fond of Edward or his parents but I would never want to wish the fall of the business on them. No matter what happens with Chapman-Webb, I know Juliette will be fine because her husband earns more than enough to support her lifestyle.
“Shit,” she repeats. “No wonder he’s done a runner.”
“And no wonder he begged me to stay. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with keeping his secret buried.”
“Motherfucker,” Juliette whispers. “I need to phone my parents,” she announces.
“Wait, before you go, I wondered if you could do me a favour.”
“Of course, what is it?”
“He’s left the contents of the apartment to me. Some bits I would like to keep but the majority of the furniture can go. I was hoping you might be able to find somewhere I could sell it all or someone who might buy it. I’m coming over soon to sort it all out.”
“Of course, leave it with me, I think I know just the place.”
“Thank you, Juliette, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you fucking apologise. Edward should be the one doing that. I’ll speak to you soon. Love ya.”
“Love ya,” I repeat, but the line is already dead.
I pick my mug back up and take a sip of chocolate. Should I feel guilty about being the one to open up his box of lies? Maybe. I fucking don’t, though.
