Fables & Other Lies Read online

  “Is it really six miles from the gate to the house?” I asked.

  “Six and a half.”

  “It feels farther.”

  “Distance is an illusion.”

  “Much like time.”

  “Much like time.” He grinned.

  My heart leaped. I focused on the trees to get a grip. There were no flowers, no leaves, just twirling branches on trunks.

  “Do the trees ever flourish?”

  “One does.”

  “One,” I said. The magic tree. “So the rest are just . . . dead all the time?”

  “Does anything ever truly die?”

  “Yes.” My father had just died and I saw him lying in a casket just one day ago, so definitely.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “But you just said the trees don’t flourish.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re dead.”

  “Master River.” That was the driver as he parked the car in front of the steps that led to the house and got out of the car, opening the door for River.

  “Thank you, Gustavo.” River got out of the car.

  I stayed in my seat, not just because I knew one of them would open the door for me, but because I truly was regretting all of this. Suddenly, one night in jail didn’t seem so bad after all, but then River opened the door and offered me his hand and looked at me with those dark eyes of his and I just took it.

  Chapter Nine

  I stared at the exterior of the house as River walked up the steps. It was paneled in dark gray and had a porch that wrapped around its entirety. The house had such an eerie feel to it and I hadn’t even stepped inside yet. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. The more I looked at it, the less comfortable I felt. An uneasy feeling spread through me. For me to have taken a picture of the house, the picture I took and published and sold, I would have had to be standing just a few feet from it, but that was impossible. Nowadays, I could say it was my lens, but I didn’t have the lenses I had now, then. I willed myself to remember, but couldn’t, and it was madness.

  “Are you going to stare at it all night?” River asked.

  I blinked and made my way up the stairs. The porch was filled with black rocking chairs that swayed with a creak as the wind picked up. I shivered and rushed up the rest of the steps. When I reached River, I expected him to open the door. Instead, he cleared his throat and the large double doors before us opened. A pale woman with dark hair, dressed in a black blouse and long black skirt that seemed too long for her not to trip on, was on the other side. She didn’t smile, didn’t welcome me, didn’t even acknowledge me. She kept her head slightly bowed and moved out of the way for us to walk inside. There was music playing. Old music, the kind you play at a cocktail hour so that people can stand around and talk over it. As we walked farther into the house and I took in the dimly lit hallway and the hall full of mirrors, I wondered if I’d stepped into another century, another lifetime. It felt stuffy inside the house, but then we reached the foyer and it opened up to a party, which changed the mood of the house. It wasn’t that it was light in this area, but everything was vibrant; the people were talking and laughing and drinking and dancing. Everyone was in costume, all black, feathers everywhere. It was . . . oddly cool.

  “Master River, your bed has been downturned,” the woman said beside us, her voice low and meek.

  “Thank you, Mayra.” River walked toward the people with such an air of importance, that I found myself falling behind until he glanced over his shoulder and looked at me. “Miss Guzman will be staying here tonight. Maybe for the remainder of the week.”

  “The remainder of the week?” I rushed forward. “I didn’t agree to that. You said one night.”

  “I know what I said, and you’re free to go tomorrow morning,” he said. I breathed out. “That doesn’t mean I won’t choose you again and have you right back here.”

  “Why would you . . . ” I swallowed, my heart soaring into my throat. “Why would you pick me twice?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Do you want the long version or the short?”

  “We already went over all the versions I’m interested in discussing and my answer has not changed nor will it.”

  I glanced over at Mayra, who was still standing there. She was staring at me, and what I saw in her eyes was pure, unfiltered hatred, before she turned her face away. The uneasy feeling inside me grew, an ivy that wrapped around my innards and held tight.

  “Where will Miss Guzman be staying?” Mayra asked, her eyes still cast at the floor.

  “My bedroom.”

  “She . . .” Mayra’s head snapped up, her mouth growing tight. “What will Doña Sarah say? And Don Wilfredo?”

  “I personally don’t care what either of them have to say about it.”

  “Very well.” She swallowed and took a step back. “Does Miss Guzman have luggage?”

  “She does not. I’ll need Gustavo to bring her a trunk. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a party to attend.” River offered me his arm. I put mine in it reluctantly.

  “Sure thing.” Mayra bowed and walked away, disappearing into a dark hallway on the other side.

  “I . . . I need to use the restroom,” I said.

  “Again?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes.”

  He escorted me to a door. “I’ll be nearby.”

  “Okay.” I set my hand on the round doorknob.

  “I trust that you know you can’t go anywhere tonight.” He shot me a look. “You’re staying with me.”

  “I already agreed to.” I jutted my chin up. “It doesn’t mean I want to.”

  “That’s funny, I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

  I rolled my eyes and opened the bathroom door. It was either that or slap the arrogance off him. I shut it behind me and was grateful to find the light already on, though upon further investigation I realized the light was coming from two gas lamps. The bathroom itself was small, only a toilet and a sink with a mirror. The entire thing was tiled in black and white squares, from floor to ceiling, giving it a trippy appearance. I did my business, flushed the toilet, and started washing my hands, concentrating on the soap as I rinsed it off. When I looked up at my reflection, there was a dark figure behind me. I gasped, turning around quickly, but there was nothing there. I blinked, and blinked, and nothing. My heart pumped harder. I dried my hands quickly and left the bathroom in such a hurry, I ran into someone.

  “I am—”

  “Never mind.” It was Mayra. I’d never seen anyone with such hollowed eyes. “Sir River awaits you.”

  “Yes.” I blinked away from her and looked at the crowd of people in search of him.

  When I found him, I walked over. He had a drink in his hand that he was lowering as he looked over at me, at the necklace I wore around my neck, a gift from my grandmother. One of the many that I wore but didn’t necessarily believe in.

  “Saint Olga, the saint of all widows.” He hid a small smile behind a glass of scotch. “You have to hand it to the Catholic Church for not bothering to hide their sinners’ pasts before idolizing them.”

  “You’re saying you wouldn’t have done the same in her shoes?” Those around us seemed to vanish as I met his gaze outright. “You wouldn’t take revenge on someone for murdering your spouse?”

  “I take plenty revenge,” he said, still amused. “And yet, no one has idolized me for it.”

  “Give it time.” I licked my lips. “You’re not dead yet.”

  At that, River laughed a loud, throw-your-head-back laugh that seemed to shake the house in its wake. I could swear the lights flickered. I could swear I heard it sigh. I could swear a lot of things, but my attention was solely on him, on this gorgeous man who felt akin to sunlight on a gloomy day when he laughed. The party livened. The music was a little louder now and had switched to an upbeat Harry Belafonte. People started dancing, making circles and loops around us as we stood smack in the center of the foyer. River was no longer laughing
, but he still looked just as amused as he watched me.

  “I don’t think it’s funny,” I said after a moment.

  “You don’t think what’s funny?”

  “Any of this and I don’t appreciate you making fun of my necklace.”

  “Noted.” He grinned. “I won’t make fun of your necklace again.”

  “Do you dance?” I glanced at the people around us.

  “Only with beautiful women.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip.

  “Do you dance?”

  “Only with handsome men.”

  “Well, then, you’re in luck.” He set down his now empty glass on the table beside him and closed the distance between us, offering me his hand.

  “I didn’t say you were handsome.” I put my hand in his.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “You just assume everyone thinks you’re handsome?”

  “I just assume people who look at me the way you do, like it’s a struggle to look away, think I am.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So arrogant.”

  “Rightfully so, some would say.”

  “Hm.” We started dancing, but as we started the song changed again, from salsa to more of a waltz. “This deejay has an interesting way of mixing music.”

  “He reads the room.” River’s voice was much closer now, in my ear.

  “Your house is haunted.”

  “Oh? You saw a ghost?”

  “I saw something in the bathroom. Something dark. Like smoke.”

  “And? Did you ask what it was?”

  “No, obviously not.” I pulled back slightly and looked up at him. “Do you talk to smoke?”

  “If it appears to me.”

  I eyed him closely, but shook my head when he didn’t give anything else away. He held me tighter, one hand on my back, the other in mine, and there was no room for me to inspect his eyes any longer because for now, at least, I was lost to this dance, to the way it felt to be held by him.

  Chapter Ten

  People began leaving the party, but before they were all gone, River was pulling me toward the winding staircase that reminded me of Gone with the Wind. My house growing up had been big, but this was something else. This was a real mansion. The floors were white and black tiles, and the stairs were covered in a red carpet. I followed River, taking one step behind him. Something out of my left eye caught my attention and when I looked down between the spindles, I saw Mayra standing there, watching me with that same hateful expression on her face. I let out a gasp and sped up, bumping into River, who stopped walking and turned to me.

  “What . . . ” He glanced out to the foyer, and I looked with him, but Mayra was gone. “What happened?”

  “She was just there,” I managed when we finally reached the top of the staircase. “Mayra. She was just there staring at me.”

  “Don’t mind her.”

  “She doesn’t like me,” I whispered. “And it makes me uneasy, the way she looks at me.”

  River didn’t offer any more words of encouragement or try to placate me. He merely made a right when we reached the top and walked down another great hall. The wallpaper was different up here, but was also very much flower driven and dated. At the end of the hall, there was a door with a gold handle in the middle, which he turned and opened, waiting so that I would walk inside first. I did, tentatively.

  “You’re already here.” He chuckled. “No use in acting timid now.”

  “I’m not acting timid.” My eyes narrowed. “I’m nervous.”

  “Fair enough.” He shut the door behind us.

  I turned to look at the room. It looked like something that tourists would walk through in a museum. There was a four-poster bed in the middle of the room, with a fireplace in front of it. The walls in here were black it seemed, and it too was lit with oil lamps all throughout.

  “I feel like I’m living in a black and white movie,” I said, to which River laughed, but it was tight and not as amused.

  The only thing that was light in the entire room was the bed, with a plush white comforter folded and white sheets. The four poles were connected by a white sheer fabric, a mosquetero to keep the bugs away, and I wondered if he slept with his windows open or didn’t have air-conditioning. I would die without air-conditioning. It wasn’t hot in here, not really, but I knew the moment my head hit the pillow I’d start kicking off all the sheets. That gave me pause. He hadn’t brought me here to sleep. He’d brought me to sleep with. God knew I could do a lot worse than River Caliban. He was one of those rare men who was attractive to anyone who laid eyes on him. Yet, he was older, experienced, and I wasn’t. I was just a ball of nerves. Maybe after a shower. Maybe if I gathered my wits. A warm shower always helped me do that.

  “Will I be able to shower?” I turned to River.

  “Of course.” He walked over to where I assumed the bathroom was.

  We walked past a sitting area with a daybed and two armchairs. It seemed to be tucked into the wall and also had a fabric that could serve as a privacy shield. It was such a strange thing to have in a bedroom, but then, I had to remind myself, this was the Caliban House. The bathroom was nice, considering. It had a his and hers sink and mirror and seemed to have more light than the rest of the house, but that wasn’t saying much. There was a white clawfoot tub to the left and a shower to the right.

  “I’m surprised you have a shower.”

  “Are you insinuating I’m dirty?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “No, not at all, that’s not what I—”

  “Relax, Penelope. I was joking. I’m actually not a complete bore.”

  I swallowed and smiled slightly, hoping it looked somewhat grateful, which I was. After all, he hadn’t raped, tortured, or killed me . . . yet.

  “I’ll get you a towel and some things for you to sleep in. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be able to take photographs of the house.”

  “Thank you. Is it always this dark in here?”

  River tilted his head slightly. “Most of the time. It should be better in the morning.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be light this week, for Carnival.”

  “Because of the tide?”

  I nodded.

  “The fog and darkness have nothing to do with the low tide.” His eyes speared into mine as he said the words and I thought of my family, of our families. Of the curse. No. I shook my head. The curse was bullshit.

  “I’ll have my shower now. Thank you.” I smiled again.

  “Sure thing.” He gave a nod and stepped out of the bathroom momentarily, only coming back to bring the towel and clothes he promised.

  I shut the door behind him and locked it when he stepped out the second time and got to undressing quickly. Once I was under the head of the shower, with the light spray that felt like rain trickling over me, I shut my eyes, but then I saw Mayra with her anger, glaring at me. I gasped, opening my eyes again. There was nothing there. I looked over my shoulder and once again confirmed that there was nothing there. My heart pounded, clearly not getting the memo. I showered quickly, dried off quickly, and changed quickly into a long T-shirt and boxer briefs. The T-shirt was white and even though it wasn’t completely see-through, I knew one gust of wind would have my nipples on display. It didn’t matter. I had a say in this; I was given a choice, and I chose this. I chose to be here. I sealed my fate by going to Carnival, as River had said. With that thought, I stepped into the bedroom. He was standing in the middle of the room, staring at a painting of boats on an angry ocean.

  “Your ships?” I asked.

  “Something like that.” He glanced over his shoulder. “The water was okay?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me showering. I also need to wash off the night. I think I have some glitter on me.”

  I nodded. I didn’t see any glitter on him, but I liked the idea of privacy in this room.

  “Make yourself at home.” He signaled around the room, and bed.

  I w
atched as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Only then did I let out a breath. Just looking at the bed made me sleepy. I walked over to it, stretching my feet with each step I took, and climbed in. It smelled manly. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes as I tried to figure out the scent. It had the faint smell of cologne and cocoa butter. An interesting mix, but it was good, so good. I lay my head on the pillow and let out a quiet complaint. It was hard, like the bed. I couldn’t imagine being comfortable in it, but then, my comfort wasn’t what he’d brought me here for, was it? I hadn’t really thought much about what would happen next. Would he walk out of the bathroom naked? Ready to have his way with me? Would he let me be? That was doubtful. He’d said I was to spend the night with him and men didn’t say that unless they were talking about sex.

  Everyone I knew—men and women alike—were into hooking up on the first night. Most of them were on apps that were solely used for hooking up. I was what people liked to call a prude. It wasn’t that I wasn’t comfortable in my skin, I was, but I suffered from acute paranoia, at least that was what I liked to call it. I was a big overthinker, and unfortunately, sex was one of the things I played out in my head a million times before actually doing it, which meant I never actually did it. It just wasn’t on the top of my list of things I needed to do, that was all. As I lay there, thinking about all of the things that could go wrong—what if he didn’t use a condom? What if the condom broke? I swallowed back an uneasy feeling. None of that would happen and I’d been a stickler about getting birth control shots for years. Not that birth control shots would help me from an STD. I took a deep breath and then another. I needed to calm down. I waited and waited, staring into the dim room, but River never seemed to come out of the bathroom. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been waiting, but when I felt my eyes grow tired and yawned a sixth time, I succumbed to sleep.