Where the Truth Lies by Jessica Warman Read Free Book Online

it, Emily,” he repeats. “You really are the best.”
    Two sleeping pills would have been plenty—it occurs to me there’s a possibility that I’m hallucinating, or totally misinterpreting him, or both. Please God , I think, don’t let him try to kiss me. Or do. It’s entirely up to you.
    “Um. Thanks.”
    “Listen,” he says shyly, “I know this is a weird time to be asking you something like this …”
    Oh, my God. Is he going to ask me out? I can feel myself breaking into a sweat. He’s like a brother in lots of ways—but he’s not my brother. Any girl would be crazy not to go out with him.
    “We’re starting a band,” he says. “Me and Max and Chris.” He looks at the ground between us while he talks. “And we need a singer.”
    I’m not a good student. I’m not a good athlete. But if there’s one thing I can do, it’s sing. And if there’s one thing I love to do, it’s singing. Ethan knows this; he’s in the chorus with me. Of course, he’s good at practically everything musical. He’s always playing drums in the music room during free periods and after school. Because of this, his forearms are toned like nobody’s business. Whenever he wears his shirtsleeves rolled up in class, I can’t help but stare at his muscles—none of the girls can.
    I’ve sung in chorus plenty of times—I’ve even had solos, and I’ve been singing with my mom while she plays the piano for as long as I can remember. But being the singer in a band?
    “I don’t know,” I say. I shake my head, staring hard at the carpet, suddenly uncomfortable. “That’s a lot of—you know, exposure .”
    He reaches toward me. My hair is loose and spilling over my shoulders. Ethan takes a tendril between his fingers and tugs at it, ever so lightly. My entire body breaks out in an instant, cold sweat. “Come on,” he says. When I look up at him, he’s smiling at me, despite his puffy eyes and the obvious weight of the evening. “There has to be a wild redhead in there somewhere. You’d be fantastic.” He pauses. “I don’t know if I want to do it without you. Every time we’ve rehearsed so far, I’ve imagined your voice singing the lyrics.”
    I am dying from the attention. All I can think to say is, “Steph’s probably waiting for you.”
    He nods. “You’re right. I should go. Just … promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”
    “Okay. Sure.”
    And then he turns and walks away, shutting the door quietly behind me, and I hear his light footsteps as he hurries down the hall, back to his room and to Stephanie.
    The TV is on the far end of the room, against the wall, opposite the sofa, and I walk toward it. In the dark, someone is watching an old episode of Columbo . I used to watch Columbo all the time with my dad; it was like our thing when I was a little girl. Every once in a while, we still manage to catch an episode together. For an instant I imagine my father at home, staying up late, watching the same channel all by himself, and I feel a pang of sweet, grateful love. I know I’ve got a good life. My parents will never get divorced; my dad will never run off to Saint-Tropez with his mistress. I’d never admit it to Steph, but I’m not at all surprised that her parents are splitting up. All they ever did when I was around was fight.
    “You never meet his wife,” I murmur.
    All I can see is the back of a head and shoulders against the glow of the screen. It’s too dark to tell who it is.
    “What do you mean?”
    I don’t recognize the voice.
    “Haven’t you seen this before?” I ask. “He talks about his wife all the time. It’s, like, part of the whole Columbo appeal. But you never see her. It’s almost as if she isn’t real.”
    He turns around to look at me. In between the smell of sand and salt and the heavy cape of night that is tugging me toward exhaustion, there’s something else: Cigarette smoke, and an acrid smell that I can’t quite identify. Eyes so blue I can see their color