Yesterday's Half Truths Read online

  Yesterday’s Half Truths

  Copyright 2014 by Carey Heywood

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and the punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Yesterday’s Half Truths is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Yesterday’s Half Truths

  She never thought it would go this far. It started out so innocently, but now had taken on a life of its own. Problem is Lindsay Palmer doesn't know how to stop. Even worse, she doesn't want to stop. Her daily deceit has become both her greatest pleasure and deepest shame. Thousands of people love her, but would they if they knew the truth?

  A simple favor for his baby sister brings Lindsay into Luke Jamieson's life. Something about this girl keeps her on his mind hours and days after each time they meet. Now here he is, falling in love with a liar.

  All he wants is for her to let him in, and maybe together he can lead her out of the cage of her own construction. Will the truth set her free or have her lies already destroyed everything?

  For Christine Bowden,

  your beautiful soul lightens my darkest days.

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by Carey Heywood

  Acknowledgements

  I’m perfection, or at least that’s what everyone gets to think. Every minute of my day is scheduled to ensure the illusion I have created is maintained. There’s a saying, something like I can count the number of people I trust on one hand. For me, that doesn’t apply. In no way does it imply I trust more people, in fact, it’s the opposite. I trust no one.

  You don’t get to be where I am by being weak. That’s what trusting another human being can do to you; make you vulnerable. Looking back, I’ve had multiple opportunities to come clean. I’ve made only one mistake so far, apart from the lying. I never should have used my real name.

  That’s what got me into this mess in the first place. If only I had gone with something cleverly anonymous instead. What’s sad is part of me wants the world to know who I am; even when it isn’t really me they see.

  It all started out so innocently, my blog. I never thought I’d get one follower, much less hundreds of thousands. I’m a fashion blogger, and not just any fashion blogger. If you Google ‘fashion blog’ or ‘outfit ideas’, my blog is the first that will pop up. I’ve gotten so big now major retailers are contacting me for advertising space, me…

  Everything was going perfectly until Missy Pollard commented that she couldn’t wait to see me and what I was wearing to our high school reunion.

  I’d been stupid not to consider someone who knew me in real life would stumble across my blog. Why her though? She had made my life miserable all four years of high school and our freshman year of college, and now she wanted to be friends. Why?

  Would she call me out if I didn’t go? I’ve already exhausted excuses for turning down invitations here and there. Could I get away with not going? Normally, I’d say yes, but so many people replied to and liked her comment.

  Why was everyone so interested in what I would wear to my ten-year high school reunion?

  It’s not just that; the reason my blog is so popular is because people seem to care what I wear to everything.

  A notification bleep makes me open my messenger screen. Sasha, one of my online friends just messaged me. She was my very first follower and has become one of my best virtual friends. I’ve almost told her my secret so many times, but I love the way her attention makes me feel.

  How’s it going?

  I’m stressing out, Sash!

  Why?

  I can’t make up my mind about the reunion.

  Stop being crazy, you know you want to go.

  Truth is I do and I don’t.

  I think I need a personal trainer.

  Are you mental? You look amazing.

  I lie.

  Maybe it isn’t showing in the pics but I’ve totally put on a couple pounds.

  Do you want me to have my brother message you?

  Your brother? Say what?

  He’s a trainer. Maybe he could show you some stuff.

  How did I not know that?

  Ha ha! Probably, because I tell you about guys I’d like to date and my big brother isn’t one of them.

  Sasha and I haven’t met in real life. I’m a master of excuses even though we don’t actually live very far from one another. Per Google maps, she only lives an hour and a half away from me.

  Does he live near you?

  Yep, maybe 20 min away.

  Closer to me or further from me?

  About the same I think. He’s downtown. I’m more east!

  Jealous! Lol!

  Do you want me to have him message you?

  That’d be amazing! Yes!

  Consider it donezo!

  You rock! So, what’s new with you?

  I might have a date with Gino!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Shut up! That’s the new paralegal where you work, right?

  YES!!!!!!

  Hey, what do you mean by might?

  So…It’s a work thing and bunches of people are going, but he asked me point blank if I would go. That kinda counts, right?

  It can’t be a bad thing but I’m not sold on it being a date.

  That’s why I said maybe.

  Fair enough. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WEAR???

  Lol! Somehow, I knew you were going to ask that.

  I’m pretty predictable when it comes to my love of clothes.

  So, I’m not sure. It’s straight from work so whatever I have to wear has to be day to night.

  Rock a sleeveless or tank dress with a jacket on top for day with flats, and lose the jacket and change out your flats for heels.

  Genius. I think I know a dress that will be perfect.

  What are you going to do with your hair?

  Um….

  SASHA!!

  Lol! I’m not sure.

  Totally wear it down during the day and pull it up into a messy bun for night. If the dress you’re gonna wear is sleeveless, you’ll have miles of tempting skin for him to see! Or vice versa, up at work and down at night. Did you see my day to night makeup post?<
br />
  See it? I bookmarked it! I’m not good with the fake eyelashes yet though.

  Are you using singles or strips?

  Strips…

  Try singles, start light, use like half as many as you think you need and use tweezers to apply them.

  I always thought singles were harder.

  It just takes longer to apply them because you’re doing four or five separate applications instead of one strip. Try it first. When is the work thing?

  Friday night!

  Eeeeeeeeep!!!!

  Are you doing anything fun this weekend?

  Ugh. That question gets me every week. People are always dying to know how I spend my time. I just play it off as if I’m busy or have a ton of work. Nobody wants to hear I’ll be obsessively watching makeup tutorials on YouTube or stalking my favorite brands online in search of deals to feature.

  You know me, busy, busy, busy!

  Hey, I gotta hop but I’ll make my big bro message you! His name is Luke so you know he isn’t a creeper.

  Talk to you later, babycakes!

  Muah!

  How is it so easy to have a conversation online? I can be witty and somehow I always know what to say. To say that’s the opposite of how I am in real life would be an understatement. I’m not good with people.

  People online though, I have down to a science. There are Randoms; these people have an online presence but are rarely actually online. They randomly pop on from time to time but it’s easy to tell they aren’t committed when their last post is from six months ago.

  Then there are fangirls. Sasha somewhat falls into this category. She started out total fangirl; but she has made it into my circle of online semi-trust, so she’s also in the My Peeps category. The main difference between the two is fangirls are in pure gush mode; they love everything you post and everything everyone else posts. They also rely heavily on emoticon usage to document their love.

  My Peeps are fangirls who were funny and or dedicated enough to set themselves apart from the pack. Now, they not only love everything I post, but are there for me to vent to virtually if my website crashes or Ryan Gosling impregnates someone other than me.

  Next are Creepers; I never knew being “pretty” online would bring out the freaks. It’s insane the amount of guys who randomly try to ask me out online, no hello first or anything. Why? What would possess someone to think that is the best way to introduce themselves to a stranger? I don’t get it and I don’t think I ever will.

  Creepers are one sad step up from Lurkers. I’m guilty of falling into that category big time. I will never graduate to full blown creeper because I do not intend to message pics of my junk, or lady bits to anyone online, ever.

  Sasha has me curious about her brother though, so I’m about to get my lurk on. I open a new browser to see if he has a website, Luke Jamieson, personal trainer. The first page yields a few potential hits. When I find one with an address in North Carolina, I assume it’s him and click.

  Whoa. Sasha’s brother is hot, like insanely hot. There’s no way I can contact this guy. I maximize the screen and click through various pictures of him working out, alone and with other people. I do what any self-respecting twenty something with a computer would do; I cyber stalk him.

  He has a Facebook page; but has unfortunately set the privacy settings to where I can’t see any pics other than his profile pic. That pic is of just him though, which is a good sign because if he were wrapped around a girl, it would be harder to lust after him.

  I have standards when it comes to my online crushes. When I see them happily married or in a relationship, it makes my fantasy courtship with them next to impossible. David Beckham is an exception to this rule even though I have a massive girl crush on Posh.

  His Twitter account is wide open though. I can look at all of his Tweets without having to follow him and alert him to my existence. The pics he tweets are similar to the ones on his website with motivational quote pics as well. Next up Instagram, for a trainer he has a lot of followers. I still have more.

  I screenshot some of his pictures to a pics of hot guys folder on my desktop. Even though Sasha said she’d get him to message me, the likelihood of him actually doing it is slim to none. In my personal experience, guys who look like him are assholes and part of the reason I don’t leave my house.

  I hear a couple of guys snickering behind me, and turn to see what garnered their attention. Oh, man. My impulse is to laugh or roll my eyes when I see the guy they’re looking at. He’s built up top, full on He-Man style; but he clearly has not worked on his legs. The stark difference between the two is comical.

  I could be like the guys behind me, passing judgment without even attempting to offer help. Since I work in this gym and am not currently with a client, I’m going to help him. Who knows, he could need a full time trainer.

  “Hey, man,” I greet, once I’m closer to him.

  He looks up, eyeing me, before saying, “Yo.”

  I offer him my hand. “My name is Luke. I’m one of the trainers here.”

  “I’m Rob.”

  “I’ve seen you in here before. I wanted to offer a free session for you today, focusing on leg work.”

  His face reddens as he glances down toward his feet.

  When he looks back up, he asks, “There any catch?”

  I lift my hands. “No strings attached. If you think I do a good job maybe you’ll consider hiring me in the future.”

  He nods, then leans in. “I’ve been struggling with gaining muscle in my legs.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. You’ve successfully gained upper body mass. Tell me what you’ve been doing leg wise?”

  As he explained his routine, I stop him a couple times to ask questions about frequency and diet. Only time will tell, but I have a feeling I know what he’s doing wrong. As I explain it to him, his eyes flash, letting me know he understands what I’m telling him. I go through some standard leg press exercises with him and have him work on power jumps until we run out of time.

  He’s a nice kid, in college, so I doubt he’ll hire me unless he has more extra cash than I had at his age. He heads toward the locker room while I walk toward the front desk.

  “Luke, can you watch the front desk for a sec while I run to the bathroom?” Amber asks as I walk up.

  “Sure.”

  She hurries off, thanking me as she passes. All I have to do is scan membership cards so it’s no big deal.

  “Are you new here?” A woman flirts, leaning over the desk to give me an eyeful of her rack.

  “I’m one of the personal trainers. I don’t normally work the front desk.”

  “So I could hire you to be my trainer?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She comes around to the opening of the desk and cocks her hip out. “Do you think I need a trainer?”

  She’s in decent shape, a bit on the skinny side. She could use some muscle.

  “Hiring a trainer is a personal choice based on what your goals are.”

  Her head tilts to one side. “Do you also give massages?”

  I frown. “No, I do not.”

  “Would you consider doing it for me?”

  Thankfully, Amber returns and gives me a chance to leave without answering. When I first started working at the gym being hit on was thrilling. There’s nothing wrong with a person feeling confident enough to go after what they want, as long as they don’t ignore the signals the other person is giving.

  I didn’t take her bait when she asked if I give massages. She should have let it go right then. Unfortunately, I attract aggressive women. Too bad, they don’t attract me. Sure, I had fun when I was younger and casually dated lots of different types of women.

  I’m attracted to classy women who don’t need to make a move.

  My shift is over so I grab my stuff from the locker room and leave before I have a chance to run into the woman again. I have a feeling she wouldn’t take a hint and I’d hate to have to say something rude to get
her to back off.

  I live a couple blocks from the gym and I arrive at my building in no time. Man about town that I am, I have a fun-filled evening of cleaning ahead of me.

  My laundry has reached critical mass levels. That’s why I was now at home staring at a pile of it, instead of getting an extra workout in.

  A call from my little sister is an unexpected, but happy distraction from the tasks ahead of me.

  “Hey, Sasha. What’s up?”

  “I have a giant favor to ask you.”

  Great. “Um, okay.”

  “So I have this friend.”

  I cut her off. “I’m not going out with another one of your friends. I let you set me up once. Never again.”

  She huffs. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask at all. If you’d just let me finish; and for the record, I told you from the start Monica was a lush. It’s not my fault she threw up all over your car.”

  I cringe. I cleaned Sally, my car, at least a dozen times before I couldn’t smell the barf anymore. “Fine. So, what is this favor?”

  “My friend is looking for a trainer.”

  “Oh, cool. Why don’t you have her, it’s a her, right?”

  “Yes, it’s a her.”

  “Okay, so, why don’t you have her just stop by the gym tomorrow? I don’t have anyone on the schedule from two to five.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. She lives like an hour and a half away.”

  “That’s crazy. Why doesn’t she look for a trainer where she lives?”

  “She might; she just doesn’t know where to start and I was hoping maybe you could talk to her and help her out.”

  “It’s not rocket science, Sasha. You go to a gym and you hire a trainer. Done.”

  “Please, please, please, please. I really like her and I already told her I’d have you message her.”