The Lies They Tell

“No more arguing.” Akil’s mother wore a purple gown accented with gold, and her gaze landed on Pearl, studying her as she and Bridges sat. “Hello. My name’s Aditi. We haven’t met.”

“Pearl.” Ignoring Akil’s eye roll, Pearl put her hand out and shook with Mrs. Malhotra. “Your dress is beautiful.”

Akil made an impatient sound, said to his parents, “I thought you guys were going to dance or something.”

His father held Akil’s gaze coolly for a moment, then took his wife’s hand. “What a wonderful suggestion.” They left the table together.

Akil stood immediately, tugging Bridges to his feet. “Seriously. Three more hours of this.”

Bridges laughed, making sure that Pearl was following. “You’ll survive. Eat some hors d’oeuvres or something.”

“Have you seen that stuff? It’s like baby eels and quail eggs or some shit.”

“You should’ve hit Mickey D’s on the way over.”

“I know, right?” Akil headed for the empty seats at the summer kids’ table, where there conveniently weren’t enough chairs for Pearl to join them; Bridges carried one over, and she wedged in, uncomfortably close to a couple she didn’t know.

As Akil and Bridges exchanged fist bumps and small talk with their friends, Akil and Quinn tacitly ignoring each other, Pearl scanned the dance floor and stage, where Steve Mills was again performing at the piano, this time with a brass quartet. A slide show played on a projector screen behind them, photos taken at various club events in recent years. To the right, three rows of tables had been set up to display the auction items, antiques, and gift baskets donated by local businesses.

Pearl pulled a hydrangea from the table centerpiece and plucked a few petals, starting when a voice from behind her said, “Having fun?”

Reese, holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres. His eyes were half-lidded, gaze on a distant point, mouth set in a line.

She hesitated, torn between relief at the sound of his voice and uneasiness at the expression on his face, the fact that he was suddenly willing to speak to her, period. “I didn’t know you were on tonight.”

He said nothing to that, looking over the crowd at the table. “Can I get you something, miss? Grilled scallop wrapped in prosciutto? A stuffed pepper with goat cheese?” He was giving her the member treatment, club-ing her; she set her jaw. “Excuse me. What was I thinking? For the refined palate, we have caviar on toast points available at the buffet table—”

“Bourbon, straight up,” Akil said without bothering to turn around. The other guys laughed, oblivious to the way Pearl’s and Reese’s eyes remained locked.

One corner of Reese’s mouth went up. “Sorry. Not at the kids’ table. But if you ask your parents, maybe they’ll let you have a soda with one of those neat umbrellas in it.”

Akil looked back, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“And quick on the uptake, too.” Reese studied Akil. “Gotta give you props, Haskins. When you go gold-digging, you really know how to pick a mark. Somewhere between fashion victim and dumb as a bag of hammers.”

Quinn burst out laughing. Bridges turned around. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Reese,” Pearl said sharply, but he ignored her, watching as Akil got to his feet, not even taking a step back. She knew Reese: he’d take a punch to the jaw and never even raise his hand. Let the other guy make himself look like a Neanderthal; he’d already gotten his licks in.

Akil, Bridges, and two other guys moved in; Quinn’s linebacker started to stand, but Quinn caught a handful of his jacket and pulled him back down.

Reese smiled, taking a stuffed pepper from his tray and turning it over in his hand. “This is like a joke, right? How many douche bags does it take to win a fight? You guys might need a little more help. Your moms must be around here somewhere—” Akil grabbed Reese’s shirtfront; Reese let him, laughing harder, gesturing to Akil’s jacket and T-shirt. “You know, this is quite the ensemble. But it needs something. I can’t quite seem to . . .” Reaching out, he smeared the pepper down Akil’s lapel, leaving a white streak of goat cheese. “That’s it.”

The summer boys moved in a wave, Akil nearly taking Reese down to the floor before Reese caught his balance and pushed back, the two of them locked together.

“Stop it!” Pearl tried to shove between them, hearing her own voice mix with another’s, both saying Reese’s name at once.

Indigo wedged in, pushing against Akil’s chest. “Let go. Come on”—neither of them released—“let go. You stupid. Idiots.” She threw her elbow into Akil, and the boys finally broke apart, breathless, eyeing each other.

People were staring, and across the room, Meriwether craned her neck, then started toward them. Pearl dropped to her knees and scooped spilled hors d’oeuvres onto Reese’s tray, trying to save them from being ground into the carpet.

Reese backed up a few steps, still smirking. He straightened his shirt with a single tug and walked away, making Meriwether double her strides in pursuit. “What happened?” she snapped as she passed Indigo, but Indigo only shrugged, taking the tray from Pearl’s hands in a smooth turn and heading back into the crowd.

Akil swore, brushing at the stain. “I’m going to kill him.”

Hadley came around the table. “I bet I can get that out for you.”

“I don’t care about the stupid jacket.”

“Just let me try, okay? They’ve got seltzer water at the bar. It’ll take, like, two seconds.” She reached out, tugging his hand. “Come on.”

Akil went, letting her close her fingers around his. Pearl sank into her chair, twisting around to look for any sign of Reese or Meriwether. Chances were, they were in her office right now, having a little chat about whether Reese still had a job at the club.

When she turned back, Tristan sat in the chair across from her. His suit was dark, his shirt off-white, open-throated. They looked at each other, the moment broken as Bridges sat beside her, saying, “What’s up with that guy? That’s the second time I’ve seen him freak out on you.” He noticed Tristan. “Hey.” His arm slid over the top of Pearl’s chair. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show.”

Tristan said nothing, clearly waiting for Pearl to answer Bridges’s question. “He’s a friend,” she said shortly, pinching the bridge of her nose; a headache was now in full bloom behind her eyes. “He’s mad at me.”

“You think? What’s his issue with Akil?”

“He doesn’t even know Akil. It’s not about him.” As she said it, she realized that she didn’t understand what it was about, not really. Surely not just seeing her sit with the boys in Dark Brew one time; not just members on one side, staff on the other. “Be right back.”

She grabbed her bag and went to the ladies’ room, hoping she wouldn’t run into Akil and Hadley, but there was no sign of them; they must’ve gone to the lobby restroom. Pearl sat on the bench in the small restroom entryway, digging through her bag for the tin of ibuprofen she carried with her. She swallowed two dry and leaned back against the wall, trying to relax her shoulders.

What would it be like, if Meriwether really fired Reese? How would she work the dining room without him? She’d done it before he moved here, but that seemed like forever ago, a colorless memory compared to the past year and a half, when she’d looked forward to every shift they shared, every random text she got from him. If Reese was fired now, they might never have the chance to make up.

Around the corner, where the sinks and stalls were, women’s voices rose and fell. Pearl was aware of stockinged legs whispering by, the door opening and closing. She leaned her head back, enjoying near invisibility here, tucked away at the extreme edge of the door.

Running water, the occasional click of a high heel. One conversation eventually rose above: “—nice touch. The board’s been planning it for a year. There was some talk of making it a masquerade. Thank God they changed their minds.”

Gillian French's books