Title: A Perfect Lie
Author: Lisa Renee Jones
Release Date: August 9, 2022
ABOUT A PERFECT LIE
Secrets. Lies. A man. There’s always a man. And there’s always a truth to be told.
I’m Hailey Anne Monroe. Iโm twenty-eight years old. An artist, who found her muse on the canvas because I wasnโt allowed to have friends or even keep a journal. And yes, if you havenโt guessed by now, Iโm that Hailey Anne Monroe, daughter to Thomas Frank Monroe, the man who was a half-percentage point from becoming President of the United States. If you were able to ask him, heโd probably tell you that I was the half point. But you canโt ask him, and he canโt tell you. Heโs dead. Theyโre all dead and now I can speak.
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EXCERPT
โCan I join you?โ he asks, motioning to the table.
Thereโs interest in his eyes, the kind a man has for a woman, but who knows, maybe itโs real or maybe itโs not real. Maybe he knows who I am and sees a path to power and fame. The way Tobey wanted me for money and power, right up until the moment Iโd called his number aka his agenda; thus, he has not called me since I left. Maybe Harvard will lie even better than Tobey did. Maybe Harvard will at least kiss better than he did, and the lies would taste like temptation rather than convenience. At least then, if Iโm used, Iโll enjoy being used.
Whatever the case, itโs clear I might actually be angry with Tobey and that aside, the interest that Harvard has shown in me, must be controlled before my Denver sanctuary is destroyed. โYou can join me,โ I say, โbut only because Iโm trying to save the rest of the place from the attorney in the house.โ
I am pleased when Harvard laughs, where Tobey would have scowled, proving that Harvard has a sense of humor, which is rare for those in my life. Iโve barely completed this thought when he moves forward and claims the seat next to me, not across from me, settling his briefcase on that chair instead. In the process, his leg brushes my leg and for the briefest of moments, Iโm transported back to the place that Iโm now trying to forget: to Austin, to Drewโs leg next to mine, his wink, and I do now what I did then. I jerk back. If Harvard notices he doesnโt react. โSince we havenโt been formally introduced,โ he says, resting his naked hands on the table. โIโm Logan. Logan Casey.โ
โLogan Casey,โ I repeat trying to ground myself in the present, at least for now, but some part of me is still swimming in that memory, which naturally has me wondering if this man is a shark in the water around me. โTwo first names,โ I add. โSounds like your parents fought over who got to pick your first name. Did they draw straws for which choice became your middle name?โ
โYouโre actually right on target,โ he says, laughing again, and itโs a nice, masculine laugh, and oddly this thought feels familiar while Logan does not. โNo one has ever guessed that,โ he adds. โMy mother won the name war. The women always win. Speaking of names. Do you have one?โ
โHailey Anne Pitt,โ I say, โand in my house, my father won the name war.โ Because in my fatherโs world, I add silently, the women donโt win the wars. At least, not that he knows, not in an obvious way. Iโve learned this well.
โWell then, Hailey Anne Pitt,โ he says, โwhatโs a Stanford girl like you, doing in a place like this? Youโre a long way from school.โ
Iโm smacked in the face with a lesson Iโve long ago learned and forgotten with this man; strangers do not always remain strangers and all offhanded remarks can come back to haunt you. โThat was a joke,โ I say, shutting the door connected to my real life, and a path that leads to my father. โI hate attorneys, remember?โ
He narrows his eyes on me, and for no reason other than instinct, I believe heโs looking for a lie that he wonโt find. Iโm simply too well-taught from birth, too skilled at being more than one person to allow such a detection. Well that, and the fact that I really do hate attorneys, which is why Iโll be a good one.
โThat was a joke?โ he confirms.
โYes,โ I say. โAre you amused?โ
โYes, actually. I am. What does a lawyer-hating smart ass like yourself do for a living?โ
โWhen not busy taunting those who went to law school,โ I say. โIโm an aspiring artist.โ Both honest answers, if you put a โwasโ in front of the โaspiring artistโ which Iโd thought that Iโd come to terms with, but the knot in my stomach says I have not.
Logan motions toward the art room. โYour career explains why you ended up here.โ
โI guess it does,โ I say, as this place serves me well to reconnecting to the Pitt part of my life, which is a place I really need to be right now, for all kinds of reasons.
โAre you good?โ Logan asks, as if heโs read my mind.
My fatherโs words answer him in my head. Art is useless unless youโre famous, he used to say often, because of course, it was inconceivable that I might be good enough to be famous. โArt is like movies and food,โ I say, shoving aside that bad memory. โGood is subjective.โ I donโt give him time to reply. I ping the conversation back toward him. โWhat kind of law do you practice?โ
โCorporate,โ he says, and this time he pings back to me. โDo you live in the neighborhood?โ
โYes,โ I say simply. โDo you?โ
โI bought a building a few years ago where I live and work which means this is my home turf, and why I know youโre new here.โ
โI am,โ I say and since heโs clearly going to ask for details, I quickly preempt with an on-the-fly story. Actually, itโs the suggested story, Rudolf included in my file. โI came here for a job, and my new boss owns a house heโs rented to me for dirt cheap.โ
โAnd what does an artist do but create art for a living?โ
โIโm working for a private art acquisitions firm. I now hunt for treasures for a living.โ This lie is actually my dream job that Iโve never been allowed to entertain.
The horror flick loving waitress delivers my coffee and brownie. โThank you,โ I say, because every politicianโs daughter has manners beaten into her.
โNo problem,โ she says, โbut if you come to your senses and want a better version of that coffee, just shout.โ She eyes Logan. โI already know you want a crappy tasting coffee, on endless pour and a chocolate chip cookie. Coming right up.โ
โThanks, Megan,โ he says, giving her a wink that I donโt classify as flirtatious, just friendly, and Megan is gone.
โObviously youโre a regular,โ I comment, โand they even like you.โ
โAnd they like me,โ he confirms, โdespite knowing Iโm an attorney.
โBecause youโre good looking and use it to your advantage.โ
He arches a brow. โYou think Iโm good looking, do you?โ
โOh, come on,โ I say, crinkling my nose. โEveryone thinks youโre good looking. Iโm simply stating a fact. We use what we have and those of us that are smart, know what we have.โ I move on from what is really quite inconsequential. โWhy work here, not at home, or in the office?โ
โI find I get a lot of work done with a cookie, coffee, and no access to streaming television,โ he explains.
No one in my D.C. crowd would make an admission of being human and distractible. Some people in my situation might take comfort in that fact, but I donโt. Loganโs an attorney, and my gut, which Iโll confirm with research, says heโs a powerful one, the kind that radiates toward my father. Maybe thatโs a coincidence and maybe itโs not. Maybe heโs testing how well I execute my cover story. The possibilities are many. Though in all fairness to Logan, perhaps Iโd lean toward his innocence, if not for the laundry list of recent events such as Tobey being gay and the FBI agent, who is likely working for my father, that I slept with to prove I was a) still desirable and b) not a killer.
ABOUT LISA
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones writes dark, edgy fiction to include the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series and the crime thriller The Poet. Suzanne Todd (producer of Alice in Wonderland and Bad Moms) on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense.
Prior to publishing Lisa owned a multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Womenโs Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine. She lives in Colorado with her husband, a cat that talks too much, and a Golden Retriever who is afraid of trash bags.
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