Chapter 9 The Art of the Lie
THE ART OF THE LIE
AURORA
Ellie has been inconsolable the whole drive.
Even with me sitting in the back seat with her, reassuring her that we'll see the guys soon, the instant she saw me packing all of my things into the back of Atticus's SUV, she's been upset.
I stroke her fur, and there's a lump in my throat as I swallow. This isn't goodbye. I'll be a matter of miles away. A quick drive, really.
Then why did it feel so wrong watching the cabin grow distant in the rearview mirror?
Was it the same for Seven and Elijah as they watched us go from the front window?
True to his word, Atticus hasn't spoken to me since we left the library. He's been a stone-silent chauffeur for the entire drive, and as he pulls up to an apartment building, he grunts, and I take that to mean we're here.
"Come on, Ellie. Let's go see our new place, huh?"
I try to sound cheerful, if only for her as I lead her around to the back of the SUV where Atticus is already unloading my bags.
I don't tell him I can do it myself, even though I want to.
When we reach the door, a simple white one with a peephole and the number six next to it, Atticus sets my bags down to grab a key from his pocket and open it.
Ellie races in first, letting out a little yap as her claws click over the linoleum.
I'm not sure why I expected the place to be empty, but it's definitely not.
As Atticus shuts the door behind me and flicks on the light, bathing the space in a soft ivory glow, I can see it's more than just furnished. It looks like someone's been living here for at least a little while.
The small but functional-looking kitchen off to the left has clean dishes on a mat next to the sink, a loaf of bread on the counter, and a fruit bowl filled with oranges and bananas.
The living room straight ahead is furnished with secondhand items that make the space look cozy and like a realistic, broke college student apartment.
There's a TV perched atop a tall sideboard, and next to it a record player and a milk crate full of records, some of which I think I recognize from Atticus's collection in the basement at the cabin.
None of Flo's from what I can tell, but I recognize the record we listened to when he…
I will not let him ruin Sleep Token for me. Absolutely not.
Peeking into the bedroom and small bathroom, I find it all looks similar.
Honestly, when I imagined getting a little place for Ellie and me, this is exactly how I'd have pictured it.
Not too big, but not tiny, either. Cozy and just enough for what we need.
A yard would have been ideal, but I'm assuming rentals like that, this close to the university, are probably all scooped up already.
It's okay, though. I'll walk her lots.
Atticus sets my things down next to my bedroom door, and I realize a little belatedly that he's the one who set all this up. For some reason, I can't picture Atticus at a secondhand shop picking out furniture, or at a Costco picking out sheets and a comforter for my bed.
My face screws up, and Ellie barks at me, doing little circles in the new doggy bed pushed into one corner of the living room. It's black, massive, and already has a bone atop it that she settles in to gnaw on once she finds a cozy position.
Not wasting any time, Atticus begins meticulously going through the apartment. He's brought a screwdriver and grabs a butter knife from the kitchen, removing little devices from outlets, ceiling lights, loose bits of paneling, and sofa cushions.
When he goes into the bedroom and exits with a fresh fistful of bugs, my jaw clenches. "Sure you got them all?" I can't help but ask, breaking my own rule. "If I find one in there, I'm going to stab you the next time I see you."
Atticus pauses, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. Is he concerned? He should be. Even I'm not sure how serious that threat is. But we both know he can take a little nonlethal stab.
He sucks his teeth, spins on his heel, and reenters my bedroom. I hear the sound of a shuffling drawer inside and he returns a moment later, presumably with the one device he was hoping to sneak past me.
Fucker.
"Are there any other devices I need to know about?"
He hesitates, then shakes his head.
"Do you swear?"
Another terse nod.
"Atticus, I know we're outside of Switzerland, but I want to hear you fucking say it."
His stare bores into mine. "I removed them all and there are no other devices you don't know about."
I search his steady gaze, and choose to believe him against my better judgement.
"I swear," he adds.
"Okay."
His stare lingers another moment before he heads for the door, but he stops with his hand on the handle. For a second, I think he might say something more, and my chest squeezes, but then he twists the handle instead.
Atticus walks out silently, leaving me alone with Ellie and at least fifty unanswered questions.
It takes almost the whole week, but I manage to answer most of those questions myself.
How do I find my classes? There's a guidance counselor for that.
Do I need some kind of school supplies? Already packed in a black leather backpack by the door.
Groceries and dog food? Fridge and pantry are already stocked.
How do I log in to the thing for my faux English tutoring? The link is already saved to favorites and 'Alfie' is there, though with his video screen turned off, for two hours twice per week, right on schedule.
By day three, it starts to feel normal. Routine. Which is the point, I guess.
At first, I didn't think I'd bother with any of the classwork, but I've been fully absorbed in the lessons. Scribbling notes in my notebooks and highlighting the ones I took on my laptop and printed in the library for an upcoming essay.
And there's a girl I sit next to in class who's growing on me, even if her incessant invites to join her for drinks or hit up a campus party never seem to cease, no matter how many excuses I come up with.
I get the sense she doesn't have a ton of friends yet, since she also moved here at the start of September, all the way from California.
For a few days, I allow myself to pretend that this is my life and not a lie.
I'm a scholarship student—don't know how the fuck Atty pulled that one off—at a good university, studying the music industry. Trying to make friends. Hoping for a career with an edgy label, discovering and coaching new talent someday.
It's a pretty picture. Almost perfect, save for the fact that they aren't in it.
The evenings have been hell without Elijah and Seven, and I spend them texting or on the phone with at least one of them before bed. It's not strictly the purpose of the secret phone, but Atticus can try to stop me.
I go to grab the basket filled with my laundry that's been ready to go since yesterday and am about to call for Ellie when I see something I hadn't noticed earlier.
There's a little corner of paper sticking out from the little drawer on the nightstand.
I set the basket back down and pluck it out, finding a folded sheet of lined paper.
Did I leave some of my class notes in here? No. I only use the nightstand on the other side of the bed. This one is purely decorative.
I unfold it, finding unfamiliar short spiky handwriting that fills the page.
Maybe from the previous tenant?
Then I see it.
At the bottom, the note is signed, A man who does not exist.
The paper crumples a bit in my grip as something cold slithers into my chest.
When he came back in here, I thought he was removing one last listening device he'd hoped to sneak past me. Was he actually leaving this?
My eyes skim back to the top and read the beginning completely of their own volition.
I don't think I've ever written a girl a note, let alone an apology letter, so this might be a complete disaster, but I have to try. First off, I know there's nothing I can say or write that will fix what I broke. This isn't about that. I'm trying to—
I open the drawer and stuff the sheet of paper back inside, slamming it shut without finishing the rest.
A shiver races through me and I shake it off. Pretend I never found it.
It's time to go.
I call for Ellie. I could leave her for the couple of hours it'll take to wash and dry—and send the first communication to Ambrose's people—but I know she's dying to see them, too. She whines at my secret phone every time she hears Seven's voice through the receiver.
"Ellie, let's go!"
She barks and races from her bed, almost knocking into my legs in her haste.
I fumble with the door and almost drop my basket when it opens to reveal a person standing on the other side. His hand is raised as if he'd been about to knock.
"Fuck," I breathe. "You scared me."
I think I recognize him, but it's not until I see the binder in his hand that I realize he's in my Introduction to Music Business class.
Actually, I think he's in two of my classes.
I have no idea what his name is, but he's the one no one can sit behind in the lecture hall because he's so fucking tall it's impossible to see the front of the class over his blond head, even with tiered seating.
"Sorry." He holds his hands up. "You forgot this in class, and that girl you sit next to said you live in these apartments."
I frown. That girl is Maisie, and at first, I think he might be lying, but I did actually mention to her that I live in the apartments on Douglas Street. Why she would tell him that is the mystery. "You didn't have to bring it, but thanks."
I take the binder and drop it on top of my clothes, and then realize something. "How did you know which one it was?"
I didn't tell Maisie that.
"I might've knocked on every door leading up to this one."
He looks uncomfortable as he shrugs, but something about his awkwardness comes across as distinctly artificial.
My frown deepens. "Well, thanks."
Ellie nudges past my legs, sniffing at him tentatively. His eyes widen when they catch sight of her. "Oh, you have a dog."
"Ellie," I tell him. "Actually, we were just leaving."
I gesture past him, to where my slightly improved shitbox is parked in the space down the short walk from the front door.
He backs out of my path, and I juggle the basket, locking the door behind me. But when I spin back around to leave, he's still standing there.
What does he want? Some kind of reward? I already said thank you.
I realize I'm not being exactly polite and I'm probably also a little paranoid with everything we're about to put into motion.
He's probably harmless.
"Was there…" I trail off, giving him a look that I hope conveys I'm in a bit of a rush. "Something else?"
I've waited long enough to see Seven and Elijah, and this guy isn't taking the hint.
The silence lingers another second before he clears his throat and laughs. It's not a bad laugh, but again, it seems…forced.
"Right, I'll leave you to it," he says.
"Great." I stalk past him and then because I'm not trying to be a bitch, I'm just in a rush, I add, "Thanks for the binder."
"I put my number in it," he calls after me, and I falter.
He what?
"Use it," he says with a smile. "You know, if you wanted to study or grab a coffee sometime."
Hard pass.
I throw the laundry basket into my back seat, pushing it all the way to one side so Ellie can fit next to it.
"Okay," I call back, lingering with half my body in the back seat to hide the annoyed expression I can't keep off my face. "See you in class."
"Bailey," he supplies for me. "My name's Bailey."
I rush around to the driver's side and slide in, giving Bailey a tight smile and a small wave before backing out onto the road.