Page 2 of The Deception: Hercules Valentine and I
“I mean, I have a number of good ideas about future products that I think you might like.” I’m watching him for a response, trying to get a feel for whether I should say more to save my ass.
But when he puts his hand on Lilith’s back, my heart sinks to my feet. “Can’t wait to hear them, Miss Davenport.”
He’s touching her. What does that mean?
“Something tells me she’s going to knock your goddamn socks off,” Mason says.
“We’d better get our meeting started,” Hercules says. It’s as if I no longer exist to him.
His hand on Lilith’s back is all I can pay attention to as they walk away. She says something to him about product reports. He inclines his ear toward her.
“See you later, Lake,” Mason says in a very appealing voice.
“Yeah, see you,” she chirps.
Lake and I watch the three of them walk out of the dining facility. After they're out of sight, we raise our eyebrows at each other. Lake presses her hands against the sides of her face. “Did that just happen?”
“He remembers me from the hotel,” I mutter in shock and delight. Even though he doesn't remember me as Paisley Grove, at least he remembers that.
“Right. Yeah. But Mason said he’d seemelater—and only me. I mean, no disrespect to you, but he said it to me.” She slaps a hand over her mouth as doubt fills her eyes. “Unless he was just trying not to make me feel left out. He does that—tries to make everybody feel included. That’s why he’s so hard to read.” She flops back into her seat. “I’m at the end of my rope with him, Lark. He’s the only reason…”
Relieved that no one seems to be onto me, I sit back down in front of my salad. “I don’t think he’s hard to read at all. It’s evident that he likes you.” I’m so glad to be talking about her and not my mucked-up interaction with Hercules.
“I thought that, too, but then I see him treat other women the same way, and I'm back to square one.”
“What way is that?” I ask even though I’m still distracted by the image of Hercules’s hand on Lilith Cope.
“He’s nice and looks at us all as if we’re special to him. I mean, really, you would think he'd be banging every woman in the building, but he's not. He's just—the best.”
I’m thankful to Lake for giving me different images to focus on. I’m trying to imagine Mason being overattentive. I can’t because he’s not.
“Lake, I think you know he likes you. He’s just a guy. I bet from the dawn of time, guys have been running away from commitment. My brother surely has.”
Her bright-blue eyes bulge. “You have a brother?”
Don’t panic. Just keep smiling.“Yeah.”
“Older or younger?”
I’m caught in a moment of confusion. I never should have mentioned I have a brother. And I certainly don’t want to talk about Max.
I slap myself on the chest. “Are we really talking about me right now? My brother is my brother. And he’s awfully boring. The question is, what are you going to do about Mason?”
She narrows an eye. “You think he has commitment issues?” Suddenly, she groans as if a vexing thought just dropped into her head. “You think he has mommy issues? I bet he does. Of course he does. All guys do!”
I chuckle as I stab a fork into my tepid salad. Lake seems to be all I need to take my mind off of blowing it with my boss, Hercules Valentine. “You’re overthinking it. Just ask him out and see what he says.”
I wink at Lake as she gnaws on her bottom lip. I’m eating my salad in peace. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem suspicious of me after hearing Hercules say he saw me eight days ago. Mason didn't seem suspicious either. Maybe him being skeptical of me is all in my mind. I'm the only person who knows for certain that I'm a mole—and I’m not going to out myself. The best thing I can do is relax, enjoy my job and my new friends, and perform my duties to the best of my abilities. And now that Hercules has a girlfriend, I don’t have to think about him either. I’m free. I’m unburdened. I’m happy.
Lake’s still frowning thoughtfully as she taps the table with her index finger. Then she abruptly stops and sits up straight. “Do you like art?”
* * *
Throughout the rest of lunch,we talked about Lake’s plan to invite Mason to her art show at the Skylord building on Thursday night. She also extended an invention to me, and of course, I accepted. I kept her talking about herself so she wouldn’t ask more questions about me—I’d reached my quota of lies for the day. I learned so much about her, though. For instance, she graduated with a degree in computer science from Carnegie Mellon University and then came to New York to start a job at another company. The job sucked, so on a whim, she applied to New York University’s Institute of Fine Arts and, to her surprise, was accepted. She took out massive loans to cover her tuition and rent. Her father, who insisted she apply his kind of commonsense approach to picking a career, never knew she’d quit working to attend school full-time.
“He paid for my first degree, but I knew he wouldn’t pay for the second. He still doesn’t know I’m an artist.”
What I took away from our conversation was that her parents were just as controlling as mine. But Lake has a unique perspective on her parents being the way they are. “I don’t hold it against them. They just don’t get it.”
