Page 11 of A Real Good Lie

“Alright. What do you want to talk about at midnight Pacific Time?”

“Fuck.” Jace sat down at a bus stop and scrubbed his hand down his face, blowing air out against his palm. “I don’t know.”

“What do you need, monster?” she asked gently, using the name she called him when they’d been kids.

“I have this thing in a couple weeks that I need a suit for.”

“Job interview?” Carmen sounded hopeful, and he hated to have this conversation with her again.

“I have a job,” he reminded her.

“You make coffee.”

“And I take pictures.”

“For fun.”

“It’s not fun,” he snapped. “It should be, and it’s not.”

Jace bit his bottom lip between his teeth, letting it go with a sharp gasp when he tasted the fruity tang of whatever the guy from the club had been drinking in his own mouth. He needed something to distracthimfrom how distracting that insufferably attractive man was. The worst part was, he didn’t even know it. Jace was sure the stranger had no idea how appealing he really was.

“Then why do you do it?”

His sister’s voice was exactly what he’d been looking for, and he squeezed his eyes closed, ready to repeat the same answer to her for the millionth time.

“It’ll pay the bills someday, Carmen. I’m good at it, and I’ll make it work.”

She sighed.“What do you need a suit for then?”

“I have a date,” he answered; not entirely a lie.

“And you need a suit for a date?”

“I need a suit for this date.”

“How much do you need?” she asked. “Is a thousand enough?”

“Carmen, shut up.” His eyes flew open. “I don’t need a Brooks Brothers suit.”

His sister laughed at him. “I’m surprised you even know what Brooks Brothers is.”

“I didn’t until tonight,” he admitted.

“Did Remington enlighten you?”

“It came up.”

“I can give you a grand, monster. It’s not a big deal. You can pay me back when you’re famous.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his downturned mouth. Carmen knew he didn’t want a handout, and she had to have known how much it pained him to even make this phone call. He didn’t want a thousand dollars when he only needed a hundred plus tax, but having a little bit of a buffer would be nice again. He could put it in savings, or he could buy the new flash attachment he’d been eyeing online.

No.

He’d save it.

Jace’s life had been nothing but a series of one rainy day after another, and he was old enough to know he needed to be prepared for the unexpected.

“As long as you’re sure,” he said.