Fifty Shades of Lies Page 4

  I contemplated for a moment telling him that I was not Bleu-Rae. That my coming here to interview for the show was just a charade, trumped up by my sister, because she was sick of course. Perhaps, he would understand. He may like the idea I momentarily contemplated for the show. He could have us both. Twins would certainly boost his ratings. Two-for-one. Just when I was ready to come clean, I recoiled from idea, forgoing the truth. Surely, this would probably enrage him. The truth would blow everything for Rae. Besides, I didn’t want to be on the show, nor did I want a husband—I inwardly admitted I just wanted to spend more time with Mr. Maximillion. So I choked on telling him the truth.

  “Okay…” I muffled quietly and bit my lower lip, so hard that I felt blood in my mouth. I swallowed hard, hoping this would do the trick.

  “Is that blood at the corners of your mouth?” He asked. I nodded my head, no. “Such a healthy shade of red.” I slowly licked my bottom lip. He reached over and dabbed my lips with a tissue, his eyes widened oddly. “Does it hurt?”

  “No.” I lied, it hurt badly, but this lie just slipped out inadvertently.

  “You are falling apart aren’t you—pretty girl? If only I were a vampire…” He sighed, arching his perfectly shaped brow and winked.

  “No. Ah shit, I am in the wrong place.” I calmly stood to my feet. “I thought this was an interview with a vampire.” I retorted keeping a straight face, almost stoic and very serious.

  “Good one Miss Ridame.” His expression resembled a cat that ate the canary… then I burst into laughter, he did too. The ice was broken between us. I was gaining some control over the situation. Just how I liked things. I sat back down, smoothing the front of my dress down.

  “You’re a funny young woman… witty too.” His gray eyes beamed.

  I blushed, “Thank you.” I squared my shoulders, feeling confidently proud of myself for impressing him.

  “Okay let’s continue then. What kind of man are you looking for…?” His eyes dimmed to a shade below gray, almost black. He seemed so serious. What happened? I was expecting him to lighten up. Instead, he went straight back to the task at hand, and turned all business like.

  “Well, he has to be rich, and very handsome….” I smiled, genuinely.

  His eyes turned darker. I felt flustered. This is the answer Bleu-Rae gave me. Crap—double crap. It was clear to me I was not impressing him at all.

  “Is that your final answer?” he questioned with a gleam in his eyes. I felt like I was on an episode of: Who Wants To be A Millionaire?

  “Err… ah, no?” I said, as question, hoping for some direction from him.

  “Okay, listen… if you say you are looking for a rich spouse, people won’t like you. Even if it is the true… the thing is you have to lie…” His eyes turned darker.

  Lie, he wants me to lie? These are Bleu-Rae answers. Not mine.

  “Okay… I will lie… if this gets me on the show,” I squealed, nervously. I couldn’t believe I agreed to lie. He was right, people will do what it takes to get what they want, even me.

  “Is this the only reason you are here, to find a rich husband?” He beamed.

  “Yes,” I flushed, biting my lower lip. His open fist hit the arm of the chair.

  “Didn’t I just tell you to lie? You have to appear like you really just want love, and a good spouse. You can’t be in it just for the money—no you can, but you can’t be blatant about it.”—I shook my head, feeling very confused—“Don’t worry I will find you a very rich man, but for ratings sake you have to pretend to be here for the right reasons.” He glared at me, raising one brow. “Now let’s start over. You need much practice at lying.”

  I felt heat in my face, my nerves were scattered and my heart raced from seventy beats to fifty-thousand beats per minute. Which would have totally killed me, but it felt that way just the same. This man is telling me to lie… but I am lying all ready. I am not even Bleu-Rae. I don’t even want to be married. Bleu-Rae does. I just wanted to go to the beach today.

  “Oh Mr. Maximillion, I really want to be on your show. I am tired of being single, and alone in this harsh cold world. I want to spend my life with the man of my dreams. My heart aches to be the perfect wife, to a wonderful man. It’s my biggest dream to follow in my great-grandmother’s shoes”—Oh my god my great-grandmother abandoned her seven children. I didn’t even know her. I was telling a dozier of a lie—“I want be the poster woman of a nineteen forties homemaker, just as dear grandmother was.” I lied allowing a few tears to fall from my eyes. If this wasn’t lying then I am an angel.

  Mr. Maximillion jumped up from his chair and slapped his hands together. This caused me to jump. “Yes,” he bolted. “That’s more like it,” he exclaimed.

  “It’s true.” I pulled a tissue from my purse, wiping away my fake tears.

  “Hummm, next time try to be a little more convincing Miss Bleu-Rae.” He chuckled. His muscular perfect figure hovered above me. “I’ve decided already I want you as a contestant for the show—you are perfect, but you really need to spend more practicing on being more convincing. This is imperative if we are going to work together.” God, he was so arrogant.

  “Oh my god, thank you… Bleu-Rae will be so excited… I mean I am so happy.” I referred to myself in third person, crap. I blushed, clamping down on my bottom lip. Mr. Maximillion observed me with a suspicious look. His eyes sparkled like gemstone, glistening every shade of gray from Lababorite, Chalcedony to Onyx, which is one shade below black.

  Damn, this lying thing is so confusing. To him I appeared to be talking in third person. This guy must think I am total loser. I hated that episode airing on Seinfeld when Elaine met this guy named Jimmy at the gym. It was the episode where the guy referred to himself in the third person. Jimmy likes Elaine. Jimmy is leaving now. Ewe, now I was doing it. Maybe Mr. Maximillion knows I am not really Bleu-Rae and he is calling my buff, by telling me to lie… and he knows I am already lying. Perhaps, he wants me to confess, or he is trying to make an ass out of me? If so, it was working.

  “So… there’s only one more thing… are you willing to show more skin? And, maybe get a little work done… like lip injections?” He said hesitantly.

  “Really? Lip injections—oh yes. I been wanting to get them, and as far as showing more skin, sure, that’s not a problem.” I exclaimed, with a shrill of excitement. I have had my fair share of slut-a-thons so showing a little skin would be a breeze.

  “Great then. Let’s meet in three days to sign the contract and a training course. First thing tomorrow go see my doctor friend in Beverly Hills. She will fix up your lips. She will know just want to do.” He smiled… then stood up—he was so tall—and went to his desk and tore off a sheet of paper and jotted down for me her name and number. “Here’s her name and address. My girls will set up the appointment for you. Just show up in the morning.”

  “Thanks so much. I am thrilled.” I could hardly curb my enthusiasm. Bleu-Rae will be so proud of me. Bleu-Rae. Oh crap. She is the one that is going to get the lip injections, not me. This made me feel ill… I really wanted them.

  I held out my hand to shake his. Instead he reached out and hugged me. My legs instantly felt like Jell-O—wobbling in my four-inch heels. His embrace was overwhelming. He smelled like hot melting chocolate and spice. I nearly fainted.

  “Are you okay Miss Bleu-Rae?” He gripped onto my shoulders, helping me to maintain my failing equilibrium. He must have thought I was the most clumsily woman in the world, or a rag-doll without bones, unable to stand upright.

  “Oh yes… I think I am a bit hungry.” I flushed, crimson.

  “Yes, that reminds me… you must eat… one apple a day.”

  “One apple a day,” I regarded.

  “This will help you gain some weight… you’re such a scrawny thing, you are nothing but bones.” His eyes probed me up and down. Well, that comment sure blew my rag-doll theory. Nothing, but Bones, huh?

  “Okay I will do that.” I promised him, as
I gathered my Chanel from the red leather couch.

  He led me to the door, opened it and snapped his fingers at a new blond girl that was sitting behind the desk. “Get Miss Bleu-Rae an apple before she leaves here… one of the red delicious ones.”

  “Oh that’s okay” I politely refused. “I am swinging by the market—I’ll pick some up there.”

  “I insist. And, you promised remember?” He stammered, his lips went to a tight line, seemly disappointed in me. Then he smiled brightly “An apple a day keeps the devil away.”

  “You mean the doctor,” I corrected him, flashing a sideways smile.

  “Same thing,” he retorted, the corners of his mouth curled downward slightly.

  I thank him, again before exiting. He watched me from his office doorway as I padded proudly towards the elevator.

  “See you later babes,” he called out to me.

  I thought about blowing him a kiss, like the previously interviewee had, instead I pivoted on my heels and smiled at him broadly—when turning back around I lost my footing and stumbled into the elevator. I nearly fell again. Damn, I was a wreck in this man’s presences.

  As I rode down in the elevator I took a big bite from the shiny, and reddest apple I had ever seen. It tasted sweeter than candy. Suddenly I felt invigorated. My pulse heightened. I felt hornier too than I had been in months. An image of Mr. Maximillion appeared on the stainless Steele wall of the elevator. “Remember lie… lie every day to anyone and everyone.” I felt a warm heady rush of energy radiate from my head to my toes. What should I lie about I thought? The elevator skipped slightly, jolting me back to reality.

  * * *

  When I arrived home, Bleu-Rae was stretched out on the sofa, white tissues were littered everywhere. The television was blaring. How in the hell can she sleep with all this noise? I thought. On the television a rerun of Pretty Woman loudly played; poor Rae she wanted a millionaire hubby so badly. She was buried beneath two or three blankets. I tiptoed quietly past her, trying not to disturb her from her sleep. I swooped up the remote and lowered the volume when Julia Roberts sang in the bath, if you could call it singing that is.

  “Hey,” I heard a scratchy muffled whisper coming from beneath the heap of blankets. “So how did it go?” Bleu-Rae big blue eyes peered over the black shawl.

  “Not so well… I failed miserably,” I lied. I am getting those damn lip injections.

  “What the fuck. How could you have screwed this up… I had all the answers typed out for you?” She squealed with great disappointed.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, he asked me for my driver’s license and without thinking I gave it to him… so right off the bat, he found out I was not you—the worst news is he wants me, not you—to do the show.” I blurted out, apologizing secretly to myself for lying to my twin sister.

  “What the hell? He knows? I could swear you are a blond beneath that mass of red hair….” Bleu-Rae’s voice shrilled like a witch.

  “He was so pissed that we tried to pull such an outlandish stunt.” I lied again. “He said if I didn’t do the show he would sue us both.” I lied even more, allowing fake tears to crest on the edge of my lids. Dang, I was getting good at this lying stint.

  “Fuck, fuck, and triple fuck.” She screamed then pulled the blanket over her head. “Now, I have to settle for the fucking Bachelorette show’s offer.” She mumbled beneath the layers of blankets, “I knew you didn’t want this for me.”

  “Yes, I did…” I spoke the truth. At one time I did want this for Bleu-Rae. Did that is. Now, I wanted it for myself… well, not so much the show, but I wanted the lip injections—quite frankly besides the injections, I also wanted to see the most gorgeous man in the world again too. I felt terrible for lying to my twin sister. But, doing the show was my only platform to get closer to Steele Maximillion. I had to lie. What a lying machine I had turned into.

  “I am so sorry Bleu-Rae… I did this for us…” I exclaimed, as the tears poured from my eyes. This was half the truth that time.

  “So you’re going to do the show?” Bleu-Rae barked. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Well, not if you don’t want me to.” I lied, and whimpered convincingly with a degree of guilt. “It’s just… well… should we risk getting sued?” I cringed.

  “No.” She pouted. “You deserve to do the show… I mean Steele Maximillion picked you, so why not… maybe afterwards you can introduce me to some of the runner-ups. I mean if they like you—then shit they will love me.” She boasted. “No offensive, but I was the type they were initially looking for, at least on paper.”

  “Yeah, none-taken.” I lied. “But, the last time I looked we were identical twins.” Why did she always have to put herself above me?

  “Well, true. I only wish you good luck with that shows owner Mr. Maximillion, I heard he’s the devil himself.”

  “What?” I flashed her an evil look. “Then why did you subjected me to this in the first place?” I asked demandingly.

  “Oh Grey-Ana… why you getting so hot around the collar? I am just kidding. This is what other men say that about him. I imagine because they’re jealous. The truth is—okay rumor has it he’s a super nice guy, he is out of this world gorgeous, and I heard he is a very generous employer and has a huge bank roll to—” she lowered her voice as if someone was listening in and whispered—“he has something else that is equal in size to his bank roll—” Rae stopped talking about him dead in her tracks. “I am going to bed. This is dumb. You got the show. So rejoice.”

  “What?” I screamed vehemently, as my anger reverberating through my bones. Bleu-Rae pretended to be fast asleep. “Wake up you sick twat.”

  “What is your problem now… you got the show, so leave me alone. I am as sick as a mental patient right now, and will not be held responsible for what I might do to you if you don’t leave me alone.” She threw one of the pillows across the room at me.

  “Bleu-Rae Dee.” I yelled loudly. She knew when I used her full name I was pissed.

  “Okay, rumor has it that this man, this fucking gorgeous man, with loads of money—” she taunted me.

  I sighed and jumped on her stomach and began tickling her unmercifully. “Tell me.” I giggled.

  “Get off—oh my god—” she squeaked, gasping for breath and laughing. “I am going to pee my pants. Stop. Please, I am begging—”

  “Now, tell me,” I pinned her down with my knees, her arms wailed, trying to get loose from my death grip. I pulled back for a second, “One, two, three, four—tell me or when I get to ten it’s all over.” I sneered.

  Bleu-Rae stared up at me, gasping for air and giggling. “Okay, okay. He has the biggest dick on this side of the earth.” Her laughter spiked. “I actually thought about seducing him instead of doing the interview—fuck the show,” she giggled, jutting her hips upward and flipped me off her lap in one swift movement. I tumbled to the ground.

  This was not good. Bleu-Rae knew how to seduce a man. For a moment, I sank into myself then sprang to my feet, hovering over her with my hands on my hips. There was no way I was going to let Rae get her claws into this man.

  “Hum, well—that’s hilarious because the receptionist told me any rumors I had heard about Mr. Maximillion are definitely not true.” I lied, trying to control my heart that pounded fiercely. I knew the rumor had to be true… I saw the curvature of his mammoth package with my own eyes.

  “If I didn’t know any better I would swear you are lying.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe the receptionist was the one lying. She probably wants him too—like you, right? You do want him—don’t you?”

  “Yeah, who would not want a classy rich man? And, now you have perfect access to him,” she sneered then coughed on her phlegm, sounding like a drowning sailor. I took no pity on her. She wanted my dream man. “I am so envious of you,” she bellyached and rolled over face down in the pillow.

  “It’s not even a done deal yet, we’re meeting for dinner in a few days to go over
the contract.” The tone in my voice was trite. I wanted her to eat her heart out. She put me through this ordeal, only to confess her true goal was to win the heart of Mr. Steele Maximillion.

  “Dinner?” She suspiciously asked, popping up from the sofa like a jack in the box. “That doesn’t sound appropriate Grey-Ana.”

  “You just said you wanted to seduce him—you had me lie for you, and pose as you. Now you are talking what’s appropriate.” I ranted, rolling my eyes upward. “Seriously, Rae.” I pivoted to leave the room, pretending as if I was totally offended by what she was implying.

  “Okay… I’m sorry. It’s just, damn, I am still pissed. I really wanted this for me—Bleu-Rae let out a deep sigh—“Fine, here’s my blessing.” Bleu-Rae reached her arms out to hug me. She looked so small, and fragile, her nose was red and runny. How pathetic, now she was sucking up to me.

  “Yuck… let’s do air hugs, instead.” I wooed.

  We both hugged the air… and blew each other kisses. I still loved my twin sister… even though she annoyed me to the point of wanting to suffocate her with a sock.

  * * *

  The following morning I arrived to the lush office of the highly recommended Dr. Peels. I Googled her last night, and the reviews were staggering. She was the best in the city. All the Hollywood starlets seek out her services.

  I opened the two large wooden doors and entered. The atmosphere was very dark, and spa like. Candles diffused the scent of vanilla, rose and lavender throughout the room. It was very relaxing. In came the gorgeous Maggie Foxy… I am almost 99.9 percent sure it was Maggie. I recognized the very familiar tattoo on the back of her shoulder—there was another one on her right forearm too, of a very famous woman. Maggie was definitely trying to be discreet behind a large pair of sunglasses. You can run—wear big hats and all, but you can’t hide the tats. There was no waiting in the waiting area for her; the personnel rushed her behind the violet velvet curtains. Wow Maggie, I had read she got lip injections, now I knew it was the truth. I guess everyone lies here and there.