Free A Kind of Truth by Lane Hayes

I pictured you with someone different. Someone not so… married-looking.”
    This time his look was less friendly, but he still didn’t speak. And suddenly, I was obsessed with cracking his cool exterior and getting some kind of reaction. I plucked at his fishnet tights and got my hand smacked a second later.
    “Ow.” I shook my hand and scowled dramatically. “That hurt.”
    “It did not. Can you do me a favor?”
    “Sure, what is it?”
    “Don’t talk. Not one word. Go home, sleep it off, and forget you saw me tonight. Please.”
    I leaned forward and set my hand back on his knee. “That sounds like more than one favor, and I’m not—hey, did I tell you you’re pretty? ’Cause you are. As a girl and a guy too.”
    Will removed my hand again and sighed. “Thanks. Now be quiet.”
    “But—”
    “Quiet.”
    No matter what I asked or commented on as the driver sped alongEighth Street toward the East Village, my companion remained stubbornly silent for the rest of the drive. Ten minutes later we pulled in front of a nondescript brick building, somewhere near Bowery Bagels. I didn’t recognize my surroundings per se, but I was in a familiar neighborhood. Maybe. I waited for Will to pay the driver, then hopped out of the taxi after him.
    Fuck, it was cold. I shivered violently and wiped at my nose. This was miserable. I was dizzy and my stomach felt off. I hadn’t been sick from alcohol in years, but I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten last. This wasn’t a good idea. Will obviously wanted nothing to do with me.
    “What t-time is it?” I asked, staring over his shoulder as he punched in a passcode on the metal box next to the glass door.
    He rounded on me angrily the second I stepped behind him inside the semidark lobby. “It’s two. What do you think you’re doing? I told you to go home, Rand.”
    “I—” I came up empty. My brain was buzzing and I couldn’t stop shaking. “I’m cold.”
    “You’re unbelievable.” He sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. Somehow the blond wig and pink minidress under his long black coat didn’t detract from the fierce vibe he emanated. “Follow me. You can borrow a jacket, and then… go home.”
    Will led the way to a narrow set of stairs. Funny details like his graceful carriage on those impossibly high heels stood out as we climbed three floors. I followed him down a dim hallway until he stopped in front of 3F.
    “The lock sticks. Hang on,” he muttered sleepily.
    “Me do it?”
    He gave me a sharp look. “You can’t even speak in complete sentences. I got it.”
    He flipped a switch before opening the door into what felt like an icebox. It was as big as one too. Every inch of the small flat was visible from the middle of the room. There was a generous window on one end, and a red futon piled high with a stack of blankets and pillows against the long wall painted a dark blue. A tiny kitchenette with a minifridge, microwave, two-burner stovetop, and a sink was on the adjacent wall. And an impressive array of guitars hung on the wall opposite the futon, with an electric piano nearby. I’d passed the tiniest bathroom known to man near the entrance, so I knew this was it. There’s no way he shared the space. I couldn’t see another person living here comfortably.
    “S-so cold.”
    I sat on the edge of the futon and blew on my fingers. I heard Will moving around me, but I was too tired now to pay attention. He handed me a jacket and said something about me going home. I nodded and pulled the blessedly warm, down-filled coat over me, then collapsed backward onto the pillows. He pulled at me. My foot or my elbow. I couldn’t tell. The second I felt the additional warmth of a blanket, I squeezed my eyes shut and let myself tumble completely into darkness.

Chapter 4
     
     
    A COUPLE hours later I was wide awake. I had to pee, but I didn’t want to get up. The room was too cold, and it was so warm under the covers. When my bladder insisted, I