The Love of Lies

Trigger Warning 16+ (Non-recurring) Flashback “Cori, you're going to have to take more hours at work, we don’t have enough to cover the bills.” “How?” Cori asks, not understanding how her father spends their money. They barely have anything in their home, no computer, no television, and no internet. She studies at the library and uses her cell to turn in online assignments with the Wi-Fi there or at work. “The past due balance from the month before; it doesn’t just go away genius.” Cori’s father has always belittled her, and calling her a genius is not meant to be a compliment. “I’m at my limit. If I take any more hours, I'll miss school and my grades will drop.” “Then drop out,” Neil shouts. “It's not like you’ve got much else going for you anyway.” “I already told you that I’m going to nursing school like mom. I’m not going to drop out with less than two years left.” “Nursing school like mom,” her father mocks before standing up and slapping her across the face. That was new; he'd never hit her before, but she should have expected it. “You either drop out or get out,” Neil snarls. “You’ll never amount to anything, just like your slut of a mother, spreading her legs all over the hospital just to drop dead and leave me with a big mouth, head up the ass brat.” For as long as Cori could remember, her father has been accusing her mother of being a slut, especially when she was still alive. The only reason he didn’t dispute her paternity was to get his hands on the money that the state allocated for her care. “I’ll pack my things,” Cori says as she tries to leave the kitchen, but her father grabs her by the hair and starts to violently beat her. “You really are your mother’s daughter,” he shouts, kicking her mercilessly as she screams in pain. He lifts his leg to bring it down on her head, but the already strained muscle in his back spasms and he grabs at it, giving her a small window to run away. Cori snatches the keys to the car her mother left behind and runs out of the house, not caring if she’s able to pack. She just needed to get out before it was too late, before her father could apologize and she would end up just like her mother, who, even on her deathbed, did not escape the man’s torment. Days later, when she was sure her father would be at work, Cori snuck back into the home, and packed her things. She knew where her mother had cash stashed in the house, but she never touched it, thinking that she might need it when she started college. However, the money would be spent far sooner than she anticipated. With her mind made, Cori left her father’s home and never looked back. Cori’s POV I take a deep breath of fresh air before entering the bar where I work. I greet the carder, who looks surprised to see me so early, but he doesn’t say anything. I’ll turn twenty-one in a half hour, and Sydney said I could come in and have a drink on-the-house to celebrate. Syd is my boss, and while he doesn’t own the bar, he is in charge. Having an underage girl who is also an employee sitting at the bar won't cause any harm. Even if, by some terrible stroke of luck, the police show up and start carding people, we can always say I’m on the clock. I take the open seat in front of Syd, and he hands me a sticky menu. I start looking over it, not sure what I want, but I know it can’t be too strong because I want to get home in one piece. I don’t know how long I’m staring at the menu before a male voice calls out to me. “You look confused,” he says, and I turn to face an oddly dressed man who sounds on the verge of intoxication. He is wearing large black glasses, and a dark baseball cap which works to cover his face almost fully. “That I am,” I reply, going back to looking at the menu. “Are you waiting to order for someone else?” The nosey man asks, and I shake my head. I don’t bother turning to face him, but I can see from my peripheral vision that he is still facing straight ahead; his drink hovering in front of his mouth as if he is whispering to it. “I’m going to order for myself.” I look at the watch on my wrist. “I turn twenty-one in twelve minutes.” The man chuckles, and I flash a tight smile in his direction. He isn’t bothering me, and truthfully, he seems depressed. “Where are your friends?” I shrug and he takes the hint. “Family?” I shake my head and now he turns to look at me. “So, you are celebrating alone?” I raise my palms to the ceiling and shrug again. “Can’t change the cards you're dealt because you don’t like them.” The man chuckles, but it isn’t mocking or even tickled. It sounds as if he agrees with me. “What about you?” I ask, using my finger to point at his ‘disguise.’ He knows what I mean, and he shrugs too. “What do you think?” “I think you’re either very ugly or you don’t want to be recognized.” The man bellows out a laugh that makes me smile and extends a hand to me. “Ashton Lewis,” he says. I return the gesture and shake his hand. “Cori Russo.” “Cori?” He repeats as a question, and I nod. “Decide on a drink yet?” Ashton continues, and I shake my head. “I don’t know what to get.” “Trust me to order for you?” he questions, and I shake my head no. I don’t trust a man I just met, but I know Syd won’t let him slip me anything. It's a Wednesday night, and the bar is relatively empty, so he is keeping his eyes open. “Fair enough, but I suggest you go for a shot of rum.” I scan the menu and see it listed, so I check the time to make sure I’m legal and gesture for Syd. “A shot of rum please,” I say, and Ashton orders his own drink. Syd comes back a few minutes later and serves us both. “To twenty-one,” he says, raising his glass to me, and I clink mine against his, downing the shot before my face twists in disgust. Ashton laughs at me and orders a soda from Syd. I use the sugary drink to try and rid myself of the flavor of alcohol, but I’m not sure it's possible. “So how was it?” Ashton asks, still laughing at my reaction. “Horrible,” I reply, and he laughs at me again. My eyes get drawn to his mouth, which is the only part of his face showing, and I notice how perfect his teeth are. “I’m afraid it doesn’t get any better,” he says, and I smile at his honesty. “Who is taking you home?” He asks, and for some reason, I don't get the impression that he is hitting on me. “I’ll be taking a taxi.” “Good; you should finish your soda and call it a night.” I nod, taking his words as a pro tip. Ashton’s POV When the girl who came in sat next to me, I almost moved to another spot, but when the bartender handed her a menu, I found myself curious. She stared at it for what felt like forever, and part of me wondered if she was waiting for me to say something. I did not want to give in, but I caved, and I asked the girl a random question, surprised to find out that she was celebrating her twenty-first birthday alone. It was not that part that really drew my attention, but it was her statement about changing cards after they were dealt. I felt like her comment was directed at me because, right now, I desperately want to trade in my hand for a new one. I suggest a drink for the girl, and after implying she didn’t trust me, she orders it anyway. Her reaction is comical, and I find myself genuinely laughing at her, glad when she doesn’t get offended. I look around the bar and realize there are mostly men inside, making me wonder if the girl will be okay. “Who is taking you home?” I ask, and without hesitation she tells me that she’s taking a taxi. “Good, you should finish your soda and call it a night.” The girl nods and we fall back into a silence that doesn’t last long. She’s obviously tipsy, and I’m glad she is already drinking something nonalcoholic to help ebb the effects of the rum. She’s a chatty drunk, and with just a few questions, I feel like I know her entire life story. Cori was sixteen when her father gave her a choice between going to school and working full time. She, of course, declined to work, and while I know there's probably more to the story, she says that she ran away and has been on her own ever since. “So, what do you do now?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. “I clean this place every other night, but soon, I’ll graduate from nursing school, and who knows, maybe you’ll get into a bar fight and be brought in through where I work.” I shake my head at the woman, who seems to have sobered up a bit. “Are you safe to catch a cab?” I ask, and she nods, but I don’t trust it. When she stands to leave, I follow her, telling her that I just want to see her into the cab safely. I can tell she doesn’t like the idea, but she doesn’t fight me on it. As soon as the taxi shows up, she climbs inside, and I wave her off. My night was made much better by that young woman, and I find myself staring at the departing cab until it's too far to be seen. Cori’s POV I had an exhausting day during clinicals, and instead of going home, I went straight to Syd’s. I work tonight, and I don’t trust myself to wake up on time if my body touches my mattress. I sit at the bar, and Syd hands me the menu. “You look like you need it,” he says, and I study it, making sure to stay away from the rum that makes me chatty. I still cringe with the memory of how much I told the man in glasses. “Well, fancy meeting you here,” a familiar voice calls out, and Ashton takes a seat next to me. I want to be nervous; it’s been a week since we first met, however, it's entirely possible that the man is following me, but Syd inadvertently calms my worry. “Two nights in a row? You must really be under it.” Ashton shakes his head as if to tell Syd that he has no idea before ordering scotch on the rocks. He drinks his drink in silence, and when there is nothing left but ice in his glass, he turns to face me. “Celebrating again?” he questions, and I shake my head. “I work tonight.” Ashton makes an enlightened face at my words. “Trying to make mopping a little more interesting?” he asks, tapping the menu. “I had a bad day, Syd noticed, and handed me the menu.” “What do you plan to drink?” I shrug and the glasses guy orders me a fuzzy navel. I screw my face up at the name and he tells me the fuzzy comes from the peach and the navel comes from the orange. I sigh, and Syd brings me the drink. “It’s delicious,” I add, and the glasses guy reveals his beautiful teeth again, making me feel self-conscious. “Be careful, some places like to add a bit of vodka into their fuzzy navels, so always drink slowly.” Yet another pro tip. After a few minutes, I become a giggling, blabbering mess again and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Ashton was right. When my speech started to slur, he asked Syd what was in the drink, and Syd told him that he added a shot to it. Ashton orders me water and laughs at me a little too many times. I don’t even know what I’m saying, but he tells me that he has never worn braces, and I feel like I’m going to be mortified in the morning. I sober up in time for my shift to start, and Ashton leaves, allowing me to focus on working. On weekdays, the bar closes by 2AM, so most of the patrons just head somewhere else to continue drinking, and I wonder if that is what he is going to do.