Everyone Lies by A. Garrett D. Read Free Book Online

plays and shows, because it gives the kids what they want . If he had half a brain, he’d know that giving kids what they want is not the same as giving them what they need . The kids, he despises, as lazy, pig-ignorant boors who have never read a book for pleasure and think that knowledge is like chicken nuggets and can be served up on a plate for them in convenient, bite-size morsels.
    She also knows that he has certain sexual needs that some women would find off-putting. Because Trevor likes the girlfriend experience, but only if the girlfriend he pays for is really, really clean.
    She has to brush her teeth with Trevor’s toothpaste and gargle with Trevor’s mouthwash before Trevor will kiss her – a feature of the girlfriend experience which Trevor likes very much. Trevor insists on bathing her before he fucks her. Not a sensual, sexy shower, with lots of lather and gentle friction, but a businesslike and uncompromising scrub down, paying special attention to her hands and belly button and arse. Then he’ll hand her the sponge with an apologetic smile and say, ‘My turn.’
    What Trevor knows about Marta is her name – Marta McKinley; her nationality – Russian; her favourite colour – red. She has a liking for cats, her promising ballet career was ended when she grew too tall. She has a mother and two sisters – identical twins; she let this slip after she heard that Trevor used to visit a set of twins who worked for the Henrys in the year before Marta came to England.
    ‘Is any of what you told me even near the truth, Marta?’ he asks.
    She smiles. ‘You know I’m good in bed.’ She avoids the word ‘fuck’ – Trevor doesn’t like her to use what he calls ‘obscenities’. ‘You know I’m a good listener.’ She gently disengages her hand and strokes his chest. ‘Don’t I make you feel nice?’
    He traps her hand before she can work lower. ‘No,’ he says. ‘You make me feel cheap.’
    She chuckles softly. ‘Shouldn’t that be my line?’
    ‘It’s not funny, Marta. I’m serious.’
    ‘Me too.’ She struggles onto one elbow and he reluctantly lets go of her hand. ‘Look, Trevor. You get what you pay for and a little extra – otherwise, why would you come back?’
    ‘You really don’t know?’
    She sees hurt in his eyes, and decides she doesn’t want to know. ‘You’re confused,’ she says. ‘This is a trade: you want something, I give it, for a price.’
    ‘Jesus, you sound like my wife.’
    She widens her eyes, smiling a little. ‘You paid her?’
    His eyes darken. ‘She got the house, the kid, half my earnings, and the damn car – what d’ you think?’
    She thinks it is strange that he put his daughter in his list of belongings, but she smiles, says, ‘Love is like war: easy to begin, hard to end.’
    He huffs a laugh. ‘You got that right.’
    ‘Sex is easier.’ She leans forward and kisses his chest, his stomach, his abdomen; he smells of sex and desire. She reaches across to the dish on the bedside table for a new condom. ‘Sex is not so complicated.’ She tears open the packet, eases the rubber from it. ‘More fun?’
    He sit up, twists to grip her elbows and searches her face, his eyes filled with a frantic urgency, as if he is convinced she’s hiding something deeper, something more meaningful than the exchange of sex for cash. Finally, he shoves her away, plucks the condom from her fingers and throws it across the room. ‘I don’t want that,’ he says, as though the thought of having sex with her disgusts him.
    She remains calm, warm, sweet. ‘What can I do for you?’
    ‘Tell me about yourself.’
    ‘What do you want to know?’
    ‘Anything. Tell me about when you were a kid.’
    ‘I wanted to be a ballet dancer—’
    He frowns, petulant. ‘You already told me that. Tell me something new, something interesting.’
    ‘I had boring childhood in boring town. This is why I came to England.’
    His eyes fill with tears. ‘Am I asking so much?’ he