The Sweet Life #2: Lies and Omissions by Francine Pascal (ebook reader 7 inch .txt) 📕

“Well…the more I dig, the more I talk to the bartender and…Everyone else. I don’t know, Jess. Some things just don’t match. I have doubts.”

“Doubts? What do you mean? About Rick Warner being behind this?”

“No. There are inexplicable holes in Bruce’s story, Jess. Like the bartender saying he was really trying to pick up this girl. And how he supposedly had had too much to drink and…”

“You can’t honestly be suggesting that Bruce tried to rape an intern.” Jessica’s voice was stony. Elizabeth could see her mistake. Jessica was firmly in Bruce Patman’s camp and there was no budging her. Of course, she knew only part of the story. “We’ve known him most of our lives. You can’t doubt him now. And you live with him. Come on, Elizabeth. You can’t let some random bartender talk you into something that’s just not true. You know Bruce.”

“I know.” But did she? Did she really? After all, he’d been kind of a jerk—actually worse than a jerk—in high school. What if, after all this time, he still was that guy? Maybe the new Bruce personality was just some kind of put-on for her, a cover story to hide the real Bruce underneath.

“So? Don’t let the story get to you,” Jessica said. “I know in the end he’ll be vindicated. Just you watch.”

Chapter Four

Mme Dechamps placed a bowl of steaming bouillabaisse in front of Elizabeth in Bruce’s formal dining room.

Since there was no red meat in it, it was actually something she could eat, and yet ironically, she had no appetite.

“Bon appétit!” Mme Dechamps sang, then retreated to the kitchen.

Elizabeth could feel Bruce’s gaze on her as she pushed mussels and bass listlessly around her bowl.

“Did you want to go out?” Bruce asked. “I could ask her to wrap this up for later. We could try.”

Elizabeth shook her head.

It wasn’t likely that the two of them could make a clean getaway with the paparazzi lining up outside his gate, and they both knew it. Not that Elizabeth minded a quiet night in, but the air was thick with questions she needed to ask Bruce. Yet she was afraid of the answers he’d give.

“Elizabeth. Is something wrong?”

“I interviewed the bartender,” Elizabeth said, still staring at the bouillabaisse. “He said you’d had more than one drink.”

“I’m pretty sure it was one,” Bruce said. He paused as if remembering.

Elizabeth didn’t like the uncertainty in Bruce’s voice. Why did it seem like his story was shifting? Or was she just imagining that?

“He said you were hitting on this girl,” Elizabeth said, and then instantly tried to talk herself out of it. “But then, bartenders see pickups all the time. They probably assume all conversations between strangers are pickups.”

“Impossible,” Bruce said, sounding firm and certain again. “The girl was obviously frantic. And I suggested she call a shelter. There wasn’t anything sexual about it.”

“To you, maybe. And you still aren’t certain how many drinks you had.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t swear…”

“And you were dizzy.”

“From the food poisoning,” Bruce said, raising his voice a little.

“Okay, so you weren’t feeling quite yourself,” Elizabeth said. “And you were just being friendly and she misinterpreted.”

“No, it wasn’t that way at all. She was upset. I was just trying to help.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell him she’d interviewed the girl, but something stopped her. Somehow, she knew, if she told Bruce, he’d insist on talking to Robin or on releasing her name to the public. She wasn’t ready to do that to Robin. Not yet. But she still needed to know about some of the things she’d said.

“You were overheard talking about me that night.” Elizabeth glanced down at her uneaten dinner.

“You?” Bruce said. “Why on earth would I be talking about you with this girl?”

“You supposedly said I was…” Elizabeth swallowed. She couldn’t quite get out the words boring in bed. “You weren’t happy with me.”

“Elizabeth.” Bruce turned three different shades of red. Was he angry? Or was he just trying to figure out how to lie his way out of being caught? Elizabeth couldn’t help remembering the Bruce Patman of high school: the arrogant, entitled Bruce who believed he could get away with anything. “You know me. Do you really think I’d talk about you to a stranger? Where are you getting this stuff?”

Elizabeth glanced up at him, hoping she’d regain her trust and confidence in the new Bruce, the thoughtful and caring man who wasn’t an arrogant kid anymore. That was the Bruce who had helped her through the most difficult period in her life, after Todd left her for Jessica.

All she wanted was to believe him. Why was she having such trouble?

“Maybe because of the alcohol and being dizzy you don’t remember what you said,” Elizabeth said. She wanted an excuse. If he admitted to drinking, maybe this would all make sense.

“No.” Bruce shook his head.

“The bartender was sure he’d served you more than one drink.”

“Well, he’s wrong.” Bruce put down his spoon and it landed with a tight plink in his bowl. “You don’t believe me.”

His voice sounded hard like steel and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. For a second, Elizabeth tensed, remembering a flash from the past.

It had been after she’d been in that motorcycle accident in high school. She’d had a concussion so severe it put her into a temporary coma. A few weeks after the accident, she’d been at the Patman’s beach house, and Bruce had been plying her with wine. She’d been flirty with him at the time, she remembered, which, in high school, since she didn’t like him then, was proof of just how much the concussion had affected her.

At some point, Elizabeth wanted to leave. She remembered that. But then Bruce had grabbed her and forced her to kiss him. His lips had been so rough and his hands tight on her shoulders.

She didn’t remember his words, only the fear she felt.

Even now she could feel the chill that had gone