The Trouble with Lying

by Corrie Kavanaugh
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IC Date: March 26, 2011 — Late Evening
This episode is a followup to 'Mind Games' and 'Sister Secrets

Flopping back into the chair, I twist my body so that my legs spill over the arm. I've not been to the flat in ages, but I know where everything is, just as I know without asking that Tristan is already at the bar preparing a glass of lager Shandy for me. It feels nice to relax and forget the troubles I've been having of late. To visit with my old friend without stressing over the business aspect of things — something we've not been able to do for the last six months. Undoubtedly, this outting will turn into another business conversation but at the moment I'm simply Corrie Kavanaugh — best friend in need of a shoulder and advice, not Corrie Kavanaugh — public relations and pseudo manager.

Tristan sets the Shandy in my hand, taking a drag from his bottle of lager as he eases his way onto the couch. I want to loathe the ease with which he seems to wander through life, but I know that a great deal of it is just show. He knows things. He's not a telepath or the like, but I've never once felt the need to lie to Tristan about who and what I am. Just like I'm not going to keep the most recent goings on from him.

"I don't know why I did it, Tris. I suppose it had more to do with what he is, as opposed to who he is. When have I ever lied about my name in the past?" From my position on the chair, I can easily watch his face. I catch the frown and know that I'm not going to like the answer.

"First term. Bobby Davenport." Tristan smirks at the recollection. "You told him you were Sarah Stewart to get him to ask you out. That was a lark, since Sarah was standing not ten steps from you."

I can't help myself. I reach behind me and toss the pillow, hoping to wipe the smirk from his face. "That doesn't count, I wasn't being serious."

He catches the pillow with one hand and tosses it back at me, being careful not to spill my drink. "You asked. But I gotta ask, luv, why you used Owens' name."

"It was the first I could think of. Besides, Amelia Owens has a nice ring to it."

"It does, but you shouldn't have done that, Cor. You're apt to make the man bonkers, and he'll pull out of the contract."

"Tris, it's a done deal. The paperwork has all been signed, and if he tries to back out of it now, based on a personal matter I'll contact the solicitor. I'd never jeopardize you or the boys, you know that." I take a good long sip of the Shandy, and then sigh. "I like him, Tris. I don't want to spoil our business relationship."

"Which him are you talking about, Ducky?" God knows I hate that pet name for me, but he's always been insistant on calling me that since I showed up one night in bright yellow Mac & Wellies.

I blink. Which him indeed. There's only a potential of three…

"The dark haired, blue-eyed, charismatic vampire, or one of the two sorcerers? Have ya ever thought, Ducky, that you'd be better off with a regular bloke?"

I nearly choke on my drink. Not because of what he's said, but because of who he sounds like in that moment. "Christ, Tris, you sound like Mum. Find a normal bloke, indeed. Next you'll be asking me to go out with a friend of yours who's an accountant, or a dentist. I really don't think I'm the type of girl to date a dentist, do you?"

Tristan's only reply is a shrug of his shoulders. For a long while, we sit in silence. Until I sigh again. Then he says, "Musician, maybe. Television star, possibly. You never were one to go for the normal blokes. Too boring for you, I'd wager."

I snort, still not saying much of anything. Flipping around in the chair, I lean forward. "Question is, Tris, do I call him up and tell him I used his name, or do I just pretend like I didn't say a bloody word?"

"You've got to tell him. Bad business if you don't. It'll be bad personally if you don't too. 'specially if the crush is reciprocated or whatever."

Making a sound akin to a grunt of acknowledgement coupled with a frustrated nnngh noise, I close my eyes. "Fine, I'll call him. In the morning. Tonight though I want to forget about all that supernatural crap."

And this is what I love most about Tristan. Without me having to say another word, he's off the couch and setting up Trainspotting on the DVD. I move over to the couch and relax against the arm, setting my feet to his lap when he returns. "I hope you'll still do this when you're famous."

"Screw that. When I'm famous, I'm forgetting all about you." He's got a grin a mile wide on his face, and we both know he's trying to get a reaction from me.

"In that case… when you're famous, I'm sending you a bill." Winking at him, I rest my head on his shoulder and settle down to watch the movie.


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