The Art of Lying
1255 Words
Emily.
"Table seven." Marco slapped down a ticket. "And quit staring at the door. You're creeping people out."
"I wasn't."
"Uh uh." He raised an eyebrow. "Keep telling yourself that."
I grabbed the ticket and got out of there as fast as my legs would carry me.
I tied my apron with shaky hands.
My black dress underneath was a mistake. It was too tight to walk in. I wore it trying to prove something to a man who probably hadn't thought about me since I crept out of his hotel room.
Table seven was in the corner, half-hidden by a flower vase. Two people were at the table. The older man with silver hair, in a nice suit, was facing me while the woman had her back turned to me.
Something about the way she held her head made me slow down.
No. Let it not be what I'm thinking. Not today.
She turned.
And yes I was right. It was her. The lady with the same plan, last night.
"Good evening." My voice came out flat. "Can I start you with something to drink?"
"Father." She didn't look at me. She looked straight at the old man, her hand on his arm like she owned him. "This is the girl I told you about. The one I caught sleeping with Mr Voss."
Her voice was loud enough to draw attention to their table. The restaurant noise faded and my fingers tightened on the order pad.
What's she talking about? I didn't sleep with anyone.
And if I did it wouldn't be the manager, I barely even speak to the man.
"Excuse me?" I say after I find my voice. “I did no such thing”
“Do you want me to call him, he’d testify to it.” Veronica looked at me now, her gaze hiding a glint of evil.
Without waiting for a response, she pulled out her phone from her purse and dialled a number.
“Table seven” she said into the phone.
Mr Voss appeared in a flash and fear gripped me. This b***h was trying to get me in trouble.
“Sir, please explain to them that I am not having an affair with you.” I confronted him immediately, desperate to clear my name.
"Mark," Veronica purred, using his first name like a weapon. "Tell my father what you told me. About finding her in your office. About what she was willing to do to keep her job."
I can see more people glancing at table seven, obviously eavesdropping. I would too if I were not the object of contempt in this story.
"Mr Voss," I pressed, my voice rising. "Tell them. Tell them the truth. We have never been alone together. Swear under oath if you have ever had the chance to even touch the tip of my finger."
Mr Voss kept looking around, anywhere but at me. I resist the urge to shake him until he answers truthfully, but the words that came out of his mouth shattered me.
“She seduced me, sir.” He said facing the old man.
My mouth dropped open. How is anyone going to believe me now? See I told you, Father, I know how much you hate sluts who think they can sleep their way to the top.”
“Veronica, enough. ” the old man said, ending her rant. And I finally have a name to the face.
"But Father,"
"I said enough." Richard Hartwell's voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a blade. "You're making a scene."
"She's the one making a scene," Veronica muttered, but she sank back in her chair.
The man then turned to study me. Same ice-blue eyes as hers, but his weren't burning with drama. The old man was Mr Hartwell, I remembered suddenly. Marco had mentioned the name in one of our tiny gossip sessions. An investor who was one of the hotel founders.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Emily."
"And how long have you worked here, Emily?"
"This is my second week, Sir."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Yes sir. You're one of the founders."
"Then you know I don't tolerate liars in my establishments." He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "So I'm going to ask you once, and I expect a direct answer. Did you sleep with Mark Voss?"
I don't know what game his daughter was playing but I’d be damned if she thinks she's the queen of this chessboard.
I ignored her completely and looked right at the older man like only he mattered.
"Sir, I don't know this woman." The lie came easily. "But I did see her once, leaving Mr Ashford’s office. Late at night. Wearing..." I glanced at her blouse, let my eyes linger just long enough, then looked back at him with obvious hesitation. "Well. Less than she is right now. Ever since, she's been making trouble for me."
I wipe imaginary tears from the corners of my eyes and let my voice wobble a little.
Veronica’s mouth opened and I resisted the urge to close it shut. For one beautiful second, she had nothing to say.
That's right. Not your victim today.
The old man's expression didn't change, but he shifted slightly. Turned away from me, toward her. Veronica squirmed under his gaze, it was evident she feared her father.
"That's a lie." Her voice went shrill. "Father, she's lying. I'd never do that."
"Oh my," I gasp and let my voice break a little. "I'm sorry. I really am. I promised you I wouldn't tell anyone, Please don't punish me."
I dipped into a little bow, theatrical as hell, and when I straightened, I saw Veronica's father catch the irony. His mouth twitched a little.
I heard someone from another table whisper, “Isn't that the girl from the trending t****k video”
Oh s**t. Mayday,
Can the ground swallow me whole now, please
"Sit down." He said. But he did not offer a seat to Mr Voss, who was now drying the beads of sweat on his forehead with a dirty towel.
"I'm working, I really should go." My weak attempt at an escape didn't get through to him
"Sit." He repeated.
I sat but the chair was hard against my bottom.
He flicked two fingers at Marco without looking. "Find Leo Voss. Tell him Richard Hartwell wants a word."
My stomach dropped.
Leo. Coming here. Hearing what I just said about him.
The heat in my chest went cold. I'd thrown him under the bus without thinking. What I said was technically true, but arranged like a trap. And now he'd walk in and find me sitting here, having just confessed to... what? What did I actually confess to?
"I should get back to work." I started to stand. "My other tables are waiting."
Veronica’s smile came back, sharper now. "What's wrong? Afraid of the truth?"
Yes. Gosh, yes I am
I thought about the employee handbook. The bolded part about fraternisation. Grounds for immediate termination. He owned the place. I was the waitress who'd tried to f**k him.
This wasn't a choice he should have to make. This wasn't a choice he'd make in my favour.
"Emily." Hartwell's voice cut through, almost gentle. "You look pale. Want some water?"
"I'm fine."
She leaned forward, her perfume too sweet. "She's scared, Father. Because she knows when Leo gets here, he'll tell you the truth."
Was that how he'd describe it?
The restaurant door opened.
- Writer
