Hateful Lies

  Hateful Lies

  Liv Reid

  Copyright © 2020 by Liv Reid

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Thanks for reading!

  About the Author

  1

  V

  Those angry eyes haunt me. Not the ones of the man I accused of murder, but the eyes of his son. I see them in the darkness every time I close my own eyes.

  “Hey, sweetheart! Another coffee here ASAP, ok?” a customer says condescendingly as he snaps his fingers.

  I shake my head to clear it and bring myself back to the present.

  “No problem, sir,” I say and walk over to fill his cup from the carafe in my hand.

  “Maybe get your head out of the clouds and then you’d actually be able to do your job?” he says as he takes a sip.

  Part of his long grey mustache turns brown as it dips into the coffee.

  I open my mouth to say something rude, but then think better of it.

  I just shut it and walk away.

  I need this job, and as much as I want to tell that guy off, I can’t. I already have two strikes against me for putting asshole customers in their place. I need this dumb job to be able to put food on my table—even if that food is usually just instant ramen.

  This time of the year is the worst for me because it’s around the anniversary of my dad’s death. It makes dealing with this place even harder.

  I walk around the counter and place the carafe back on the heater with a sigh. I hate this place.

  “Psst,” Ruby hisses at me, and I look up. “Don’t look!”

  I quickly direct my eyes downward.

  “What?” I whisper.

  She sounds nervous, and I’m instantly on high alert.

  Her back is against the counter next to the coffee heater, and she’s facing outwards with a clear view of the entire diner.

  “What is it?” I hiss impatiently.

  “There’s a man over there. He’s been staring at you all night.”

  Fear prickles at the back of my neck. Working as a waitress in a small, run-down diner, you get your fair share of creeps hitting on you, but by the way Ruby is reacting, this doesn’t seem like your everyday creep.

  “What does he look like?” I ask.

  “He’s in his forties, I’d guess. He’s wearing a black trench coat, and he looks hella suspicious.”

  I turn to reach under the counter, to grab silverware and surreptitiously get a look at him. He’s in a booth by himself near the door, and he’s pretending to read a newspaper but is actually staring right at me instead. I fumble and drop the cutlery. They all clatter to the floor, making a loud racket against the chipped linoleum.

  Ruby ducks down to help me pick it up and whispers, “Do you know him?”

  “No, I have no clue who he is. But he’s clearly staring at me and trying not to look like it.”

  “He’s been doing that all night. I noticed it about half an hour ago. How did you not notice?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of preoccupied right now.”

  An image of my dad flashes through my mind painfully. If he were still alive, I wouldn’t be here right now.

  “Well, be careful. Ricky isn’t going to let us call the cops, but I’ll keep an eye out. Just stay away from him and don’t go outside alone.”

  “Ok, will do. Thanks, Ruby,” I say gratefully.

  “No problem, girl. We have to watch out for each other,” she says and stands up to greet a customer that has just come up to the counter.

  Ricky is our gross, sleazy manager. He’s an asshole who only cares about profit and couldn’t care less about his staff. Another girl who worked here, we saw her violent ex boyfriend outside the restaurant one night. Ricky wouldn’t let us call the police, and the ex ended up beating her so badly she had to go to the hospital.

  I stand back up, and then I hear snapping. I look over and see the same guy I just gave coffee to. He’s snapping his fingers and pointing at his empty cup impatiently. I grit my teeth, grab the carafe and go back over to him.

  On the way there, some young guy grabs my ass. I almost spill the coffee as I spin around, ready to smack him in the head with the container. The young guy just smirks and pretends to look innocent. He won’t meet my eyes. I’m furious and want to smack him upside the head—but I know I can’t. Again, I need this job.

  “Whoops, you may want to be careful. When you were stretching, you accidentally grabbed me. And I almost spilled scalding hot coffee all over your lap.” I fake laugh.

  The guy smirks like he just got away with it because I’m too dumb to realize what actually happened.

  I can’t help it. I lean down closer to him so no one can hear us and say, “Next time, I’m going to be a lot clumsier. Your dick is going to have third-degree burns, but, oh well. If that’s how you treat women then it’s not like anyone’s going to see it, anyway.”

  His smirk instantly disappears, and I turn away from him and continue walking over to the guy who wants coffee. This is all just in a regular day’s work here, but I shouldn’t have said that. I get groped on a weekly basis and standing up for myself is why I have the two strikes against me in the first place.

  For the rest of the night, I continue doing my job while avoiding the guy who grabbed me. The man in black by the door is still staring at me. I keep watching him out of the corner of my eye, and he’s doing the same to me. He’s not eating anything, just drinking coffee and pretending to read the newspaper.

  The time winds down slowly until it’s finally 2 a.m., the end of my shift. I head back to the staff room and change out of my uniform—which is a pink dress and white apron. Ricky wants us to look like girls who worked in diners in the 50s for some weird, sexist reason. I put on my street uniform which is made up of tennis shoes, ripped black jeans and an oversized jean jacket.

  Ruby comes back at this moment and asks what I’m going to do. “That creepy guy is still out there.”

  “I know,” I say, as I sling my backpack over my shoulder. “But I have to head out at some point. I’m so tired I just want to go home.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” she offers.

  “Thank you so much.”

  I am truly grateful for Ruby. Living in this part of town, working with the kinds of people who work at “Ricky’s Diner”, you don’t meet a lot of people like Ruby. She’s a rose in a dirt patch.

  We peek out into the dining area to make sure the creep is still sitting at his table. He
is, and he’s still watching the door to the break room intently. A shiver of fear runs through me. He seems like he wants to hurt me.

  I don’t let myself think about it too much. I already have enough to think about today. I just want to get out of here and go home. Hopefully, this guy just came here for the first time and is a little overzealous with his staring. Hopefully, he’ll leave after tonight, and I’ll never have to see him again.

  I hope that’s true, but I know I’m just lying to myself. This guy is going to be trouble, but I don’t want to deal with it yet. I’ve had my share of stalkers working here, and I’ll deal with it as it comes.

  Ruby and I sneak out the back door, which leads into a dark alley. This is maybe not the smartest decision, but it’s better than going out the front door right next to that guy.

  It’s unseasonably cool for mid-August in Connecticut, and we pull our jackets closer to our bodies and walk quickly out of the alley. The neon sign for Ricky’s is reflected in the wet pavement and makes the dark, lonely parking lot glow.

  “Ladies!” we hear a rough voice yell at us.

  We both yelp and jump, then immediately start running towards my car. There are the heavy sounds of footsteps behind us as the guy runs after us.

  Without stopping, I take my backpack off and fish inside for my keys. I should have already had these out. I’m so dumb.

  Ruby and I reach the car quickly. She yells at me to open the doors.

  “I’m trying!” I yell back.

  Why didn’t I take the keys out before?!

  I look back, and the guy is closing in very fast. A couple of more seconds, and he’ll get us.

  Desperately, I finally manage to get my keys and shove them into the lock—but it’s too late. I feel a firm hand on my shoulder.

  I spin around and jump out of his clutches.

  “Back the fuck off!” I yell, trying to seem intimidating.

  I pull a bottle of hairspray out of my bag and aim it at him, hoping in the dark he’ll mistake it for pepper spray.

  “Miss Miller?” he asks.

  “How do you know my name?” I bark.

  “I’m here to—” He reaches into his coat for a gun.

  “Stop right there!” I scream. “Or I’ll pepper spray you!”

  The man slowly pulls his hand out of his trench coat. And I uselessly spray him with hairspray. Instead of a gun, he pulls out an envelope.

  “Huh?” Ruby and I ask at the same time.

  “As I was trying to explain,” he continues, waving away the cloud of hairspray around his head. “I’m here to deliver a message. And it’s good news, I can assure you.”

  I lower my weapon warily. My heart is pounding against my rib cage, but it slowly starts to calm down when I realize he just wants to give me a piece of paper and not kill me.

  “What is it?” I ask suspiciously.

  “I’m here on behalf of the Aston family.”

  My heart-rate skyrockets again. I reach out and grab onto my car to steady myself. I suddenly feel dizzy.

  I’ve thought about the Astons every day for the last four years. Every day, I’ve thought about those eyes. Not the eyes of the man who killed my father. Not the eyes of the son who tortured me for a year. But the angry eyes of the older son, Logan Aston. Those are the ones that haunt me.

  The man reaches over to hand me the envelope, and I grab it with shaking fingers.

  “They wanted me to relay a generous offer to you. They are willing to fund your further education and are offering to pay for you to attend Crowned College. Your tuition, books, housing, meals, everything.”

  “Wha—why would they do that?” I stutter in disbelief.

  “They understand that you’ve fallen on some…” He looks around at the run-down diner and the old, rusting cars in the parking lot. “… difficult times, and they are willing to help. They understand that you had great academic promise when you were attending Sycamore Heights Preparatory. And that you had plans to continue your education.”

  “I wanted to be a doctor,” I whisper, almost in shock.

  “Yes, and due to unfortunate circumstances—”

  “—Their dad killed mine,” I interject.

  I hear Ruby gasp, but my ears are ringing so she sounds far away.

  This guy is a professional and doesn’t bat an eye. He repeats, “Due to unfortunate circumstances, you have not been able to continue your education, and the Aston’s would like to offer you that opportunity. Think it over. Here’s my card.”

  I take it from him. It’s printed on expensive, thick paper.

  “When you’ve made a decision, please reach out to me.” He turns, his black coat flutters in the breeze.

  He starts to walk away before stopping and adding, “This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, Miss Miller. I wouldn’t let this pass you by, if I were you.”

  And then he’s gone, and I’m left standing there, numb and clinging to the hood of my mustard-colored car so my legs don’t collapse.

  “What the hell was that?” Ruby asks in disbelief as she comes over to me.

  I stare down at the envelope in my shaking hand. It’s sealed shut with wax, and on the front it says, “To the attention of Violet Miller. For her eyes only.”

  2

  V

  “What are you going to do, V?” Ruby asks.

  I turn the business card over so I can see it in the dim neon light. It’s from the law offices of Kilburn, Marrow and Hitchcock. I instantly crumple it in my fist and throw it to the ground.

  “You going to explain any of this?” she asks again.

  “He’s from the law firm that was trying to get my dad’s killer off.”

  “And they want to offer you a scholarship or something?”

  “I guess so,” I mumble and turn the envelope over in my hand.

  “Listen,” she says and stoops down to pick the crumpled business card up off the wet pavement. “I’m not into school or anything. The closest I ever came to college was when I was dating a dealer who sold to students at a local community college, but even I’ve heard of Crowned College. That’s supposed to be one of the best schools in the world, right?”

  I nod. It was my dream college, back when I still had dreams.

  “You never really told me what happened with your parents, just said they weren’t alive no more. But I figured you wouldn’t be in a place like this if you had family or any other place to go… but these people, they’re offering you some other place—some other amazing place. You shouldn’t turn it down. It’s a free ticket out of this hellhole.”

  I turn to her, eyes blazing. “This is blood money.” I throw down the envelope.

  She bends down again and retrieves it. “Stop making me pick up after you.”

  “I won’t do it. I can’t. My dad was the only person I had in the world and that family took him from me. I won’t.” I shake my head.

  Everything I just said was more to convince myself than Ruby.

  “Look, I’m not going to say you should do it. I’m just going to say, don’t throw this opportunity away without thinking about it.” She forces the envelope back into my hand. “Promise me you won’t throw this away until you’ve at least thought about it.”

  My emotions are a swirling mass of pain and confusion that I can’t make sense of. I want to throw the envelope to the ground again. It feels like the paper is burning my skin. Anything that poisonous family touches, it ruins.

  “Promise me,” she repeats sternly.

  “… I promise,” I say through clenched teeth.

  I know Ruby is looking out for me and in a couple of days I’ll be grateful, but right now I’m too upset to feel anything but destroyed.

  “Good. Now, what happened with your dad? We can talk about all of this later, but I need to know that one thing, otherwise the suspense will kill me.”

  I sigh then quickly tell her the abridged version. I want to go home and be alone, so that I can process all of this.

 
“My dad worked for their family for a few years as a gardener.” My voice is shaking.

  Her eyes are wide and she’s listening intensely—hell, I would too. It’s a great story if you don’t have to live through it.

  “The father, John Aston—” His name tastes like ashes in my mouth. “—he treated my dad terribly and used to bully him constantly—it made me sick how my dad was treated there, but we couldn’t afford for him to quit. We needed the money so badly because I was attending a private school on a scholarship and it only covered tuition, not books or uniforms or anything. That job wasn’t supposed to be forever, just until I graduated and then he’d finally be able to quit. But he never got that chance because John Aston ended up shooting him on their property.”

  What I don’t tell her is that I was there when it happened.

  She whistles in disbelief. “That’s crazy, girl. Sorry to hear.”

  “Thanks.”

  “He’s in jail now?”

  “No, he left right after it happened. He’s been on the run ever since, and they haven’t found any trace of him. With all the money that family has, he could be anywhere, and he could stay there for the rest of his life. I don’t have a lot of hope he’ll ever be found.”

  She whistles sympathetically. “Damn, girl. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s ok.” I say. But it isn’t.

  “Ok, we can talk about all of this later, but right now you should probably get home. You look like you’re about to collapse—or punch someone, one or the other. Are you good to drive?”