Scandalous Lies

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1Six weeks since she’d left him. Six weeks of agonizing over what to do.

He’d decided to become a man of action. A new Noah, set for change.

He was leaving.

After enduring another brutally cold winter in the Adirondack region, it was a shame he wouldn’t get to enjoy the lush scenery that came with summer’s arrival, its golden sun and the swimming hole that was so much of his childhood. But just as nature was readying to spring back to life, Noah Sanders felt as though he, too, were dying inside, metaphorically set to join his now-departed mother, who had died with mysteries on her lips, perhaps lies, more probably those awful truths she spoke of. Fact of the matter was, he wanted to know—he needed to know—exactly who he was. A man named Noah, or an infant named Stephen.

At last, he’d finally made plans to leave, and tomorrow was the day he’d chosen to launch this crazy adventure. It’s when everything would change. He was uncertain when, or even if, he would ever return to the only home he’d ever known, or remembered. Admitting to the only truth that existed: White Pine held nothing for him anymore. A town full of people, none of whom knew the torment that rocked him.

It’s not that he was leaving all that much behind, an empty house and an even emptier heart. The latter would accompany him on his journey, seeking to be filled. He had to ask himself if that was why he’d decided to go out on the town, such as the nightlife was in White Pine, on this final night. Did he seek something—or someone—who would allow him to bury his pain for a couple of hours? The last time he’d indulged his own desires had been six weeks ago, the night before his mother passed. He wondered if he would run into that magnetic, sexy man again. He supposed he was hoping yes. Why else would he be returning to the scene of where they met, a dive bar in the center of town?

Sally’s Dive was a popular watering hole for many of the village’s residents, in particular with the men of the White Pine Fire Department, whose red-brick firehouse was around the corner. Some of the men had reputations for being quite randy, something Noah could attest to. If the man he’d met, a hunky beast named Joey Silva, fought fires with the same intensity he f****d, then the citizens were in good hands. Noah almost swooned at the thought of being with Joey again. It had been a memorable night. He could deal with another, just one last night, before he hit the road for an adventure into an unknown past that may just be littered with fictions. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around why his mother would tell him such a tall tale, or at such a time, when taking her last breaths. But didn’t religion dictate you confess your sins before going to the Lord?

At the moment, his sin was desire.

And it was with such a hyped-up determination that he opened the wooden door to Sally’s and entered a dimly lit bar that reeked of stale beer and a musky, manly scent. Perhaps it was sweat off the bodies of the construction workers sidled up at the bar, sipping at bottles while their yellow hardhats kept them company. A couple of people turned to see who had arrived, turned back with disinterest at the sight of Noah. Hardly a regular patron, so most people here wouldn’t know him. The flood of light he’d allowed in dissipated as the door closed. He ambled over to the bar, asked for a draft.

“Got a favorite?” asked Sally, long-time proprietor of the bar, ever since a factory accident had ended her assembly-line profession and given her a nice payday. She walked with a permanent limp because of the accident.

“What do you recommend?” Noah asked.

She grabbed a tab that said Saranac, filled a pint glass. “I think you’ll like this. Four bucks.”

Noah dug out a ten and handed it over. He left a dollar tip from the change, and then took up a seat at the end of the long bar, away from some of the big men. A couple of young guys were already grizzled looking, stubble and thick arms in contrast to the lines on their faces. They could be thirty, forty, hard lives blurring the years. They couldn’t be less interested in Noah, and he with them. So, he sent his wandering gaze around the rest of the bar. It wasn’t very crowded, just after seven o’clock on this Thursday night in early March. The time between the end of happy hour and the start of a night of partying. He considered this wasn’t such a good idea. Had he come here just hoping for a random hook-up? Not like White Pine had its own gay bar, so you just had to take a chance here, catch someone’s eye, hope they spoke your language.

It wasn’t like Noah was unattractive, far from it. He was often told how cute he was, which to him sounded like he was about to be patted on the head like a puppy, not pounded in the ass. He had a nice body, slim, like a runner, dark brown hair that was easily styled into the latest fashion. He’d had it cut just today in anticipation of presenting himself in a new town, perhaps a new and unfamiliar family. He caught himself in the mirror behind the bar. He supposed cute was the right word after all, his boyish looks belying his twenty-eight years. He’d just celebrated a birthday. Spent it alone, in fact, which had been the final factor in his decision to seek out a new truth. He wasn’t getting any younger, was he? Rubbing his freshly shaven cheek, he wondered what type of man he’d attract, if any, here.

“A friend was asking about you, just the other day.”

Noah looked up to see Sally loitering behind the bar. “Um, me? I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

“I knew your mother, sorry to hear of Barb’s passing. You’re Noah.”

“Thank you for your kind words. I miss her.”

“The next one is on me. And who knows, maybe the third will be on Joey.”

Sally smirked when Noah felt his face turn red. “Now I know you have the wrong guy.”

“It’s okay, kid, lot of stuff happens at Sally’s, and none goes beyond the walls. No one here cares who you sleep with. Hell, Sally’s has been responsible for some lasting relationships being formed here, not just one-nighters, you know. Though I caution you, Joey’s not the settling down type. He arrived from neighboring Honor Hills with more than a bit of a reputation, and he wasn’t shy about claiming his conquests.” She paused, checking her watch. “But if that’s your type, you may be in luck tonight. Tonight’s Thursday, his usual night off. It’s possible he’ll be making an appearance.” She offered up a sweet, knowing smile, touched his hand. “Buck up, kid, life’s gonna get better.”

“How do you know I’m…”

“What do they say, bartenders are like psychiatrists. We read moods.”

Noah went back to his beer, his mind both heeding her words about Joey and wishing the man would walk through that door right now. He stole a few looks at the entrance, which remained closed. No one entered for about fifteen minutes and by then he’d finished his first and Sally had replaced his empty with a buyback.

As he took a sip, Noah grabbed for his iPhone and went to the maps app, where he typed in the name of a town. Not the first time he’d done so in the past week. The GPS recalibrated, and soon he was looking at a grid of the Township of Cane’s Inlet, situated on a barrier peninsula on New Jersey’s north coast. He’d never been down that neck of the woods before, so his adventure would be one of discovery, not just of his past but of a region of the world he’d never given a thought to. He’d vowed to travel there, but it was once he stepped foot on its sandy shore that his future remained elusive. Secrets were what defined his life now. Until only a week ago, he’d been a mild-mannered line cook at Shiner’s Diner over on Main Street, thinking he could one day be a chef. His dreams extended only to the unachievable, like that sexy guy who had popped through White Pine a couple weeks ago. A detective from New York, Noah would have welcomed a chance to be with him. But he’d left abruptly and it wasn’t his nature to go chasing after anyone. Because Noah rarely ventured beyond the borders of White Pine. An ailing mother had also come with its responsibilities, which meant his fantasies were often on hold.

But now he was freed from the shackles of duty, also of being the man he’d always thought he needed to be. Now he could do what he wanted, go wherever he wanted, and it was Cane’s Inlet calling to him. Forced upon him. A dormant inner determination had now found its way to the surface, like an angry wave finally making it to the shore, crashing in a foamy rush. Only one word had kept his decision to go to Cane’s Inlet at bay: evil.

Was Barbara’s proclamation a dramatic exaggeration? Or reality? Just what had she meant by evil? So far he’d held off researching this so-called Hatcher family beyond knowing their location. His only clue for where they were from were memories of his mother and her childhood spent in New Jersey, days she rarely spoke of. The details were too much to absorb, all while the mother he’d believed to be his flesh and blood settled into her permanent resting place. Cleaning out the house had taken precedence for the past month. As though his birthday last week had come with a forced deadline. So focused on his issue was he, he failed to see the man take up a seat next to him.

“This stool taken?”

Noah noticed, standing over him, a hulking gift of s*x and heat. The very man he’d met so many weeks ago. Assistant Fire Chief Joey Silva, his heavily bearded face as unmistakable as the allure in his brown eyes. He was dressed casually, just a pair of jeans and a gray V-neck shirt that revealed tufts of dark chest hair poking out from underneath. Noah felt his hand grow shaky, nerves winning out. He set down his glass to avoid any kind of spill. Too bad, the beer would have helped his suddenly dry throat.

“Oh, uh, hi.”

“Noah, right? How’s it going?”

“You remember my name?”

He smiled. “I kind of said it a lot that night.”

Noah nodded. “Nice to see you again, Joey.”

“Ah, so you remember mine, huh?”

“As you said, I said it a lot.”

“More like cried it,” Joey Silva said. “Buy you a drink? Here, or elsewhere?”

Noah didn’t immediately answer the invitation. He wondered what it was like to own such confidence, that within seconds of seeing someone he could proposition them so casually. Like he knew the answer before even posing the question. The heat pulsing off his body a language all its own. Noah could smell the scent of burned wood on the man, as though his life as a firefighter was so ingrained in him he breathed it. A willing wooziness settled over Noah, perhaps from the two beers, probably because what he’d come here for would be reality if only he said yes.

“A drink, yes. Anything else, I don’t think I’m really up for it.”

The words surprised him even as he spoke them aloud.

He saw the surprise on Joey’s face and thought the man was about to ditch him. A man like him, he wasn’t one for challenges, for games. Yet he sat down on the stool next to him anyway, signaled to Sally for two drinks, and moments later Noah had his third beer and Joey his first. Noah looked over at the man, at his thick forearms covered with dark hair. He felt a stirring within him, suppressed it with a sip of his beer.

“It’s not you, Joey…I mean, definitely not,” he finally said. “I’m just going through stuff. In fact, I’m leaving White Pine. Tomorrow.”

“And yet tonight you’re here, rather than packing?”

“I don’t have that much to pack, really. It’s a personal issue, kind of distracting me now.”

“So let me distract you from your distraction. Give you a proper send off. Wherever you’re off to, I doubt their firefighters are as…accommodating.” Joey knocked his knee against Noah’s, let it linger, the intent clear. A connection re-established.

Noah’s eyes flashed with sudden heat. His loins battled his common sense.