Mr. Wonderful Lies Read Online Free Page B

he saw, I could always have Jared kick his ass.
    I smoothed on the pale lip gloss and examined my brown eyes in the mirror before trying to decide what I was going to do with my hair. People always think curly hair is great. Having it is like being in a love/hate relationship. I have to keep it long because cutting it results in a horrible Little Orphan Annie imitation, but long hair is a pain in the ass. It takes forever to blow dry and even longer if I try to straighten it. So I usually opt for the strangling-it-with-a-towel-until-it-dries-and-then-trapping-it-in-a-ponytail method, but I didn’t want to meet Ollie for the first time sporting a straggly ponytail.
    Experimenting with a few options, I finally swirled it around a bit and pinned it up by stretching a clip to the max and anchoring it at the back of my head. If that clip gave up at any point during our date and flew off, I was likely to kill somebody. Nobody said looking good didn’t come at a price.
     
    * * *
     
    I drove to the cafe, parking down the street near Jared’s gym. I entered the café door about forty-five minutes too early and got in line to order. It isn’t really a café; it’s actually a chain of restaurants that masquerade as a café. They serve everything from pastries guaranteed to add thirty pounds per bite to your butt, to sandwiches promising no trans fat and very few calories but containing five different types of cheese. Go figure.
    My favorite morning drink is Chai tea. I don’t do coffee. The caffeine does funny things to me, like switching my sleep cycles and turning me into a raving lunatic. So I stuck with tea that morning. There was no sense showing Ollie my psycho side until we were better acquainted.
    The café is situated into a couple of different sections, some filled with tables and booths like a regular restaurant and some dotted with cozy conversation areas like a Midwestern version of Starbucks. The vaulted ceilings keep things from feeling claustrophobic and there are plenty of windows. It’s a comfortable atmosphere, and as I scouted for the perfect place to meet Ollie for the very first time I decided I was glad I’d suggested it.
    One table appealed to me almost immediately. It was sandwiched between the restaurant section and a clump of overstuffed chairs in the conversation area. There was a small partial wall to one side and a good view of the entire café. Tea in hand, I staked my claim on the table and put my back to the wall.
    I’d taken my very first soothing sip of Black Chai tea when I saw Jared.
    I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed him right away to begin with. If I hadn’t been obsessed with finding the perfect table I probably would have. He had stationed himself in an armchair near the windows with a view of the room and the parking lot. Morning paper in one hand, he had a thick mug of black coffee in the other. I knew it was black coffee because he can’t stand any of what he calls emasculating coffee substitutes .
    It was hard to say what made me more agitated, being nervous about meeting Ollie or being disgusted that Jared’s presence gave me a decided boost in the confidence department. I decided that it was both. Hating how nervous and fidgety I felt, I pressed the cool palms of both hands against the flaming warmth of my cheeks and tried to breathe deeply.
    My phone trilled.
    Digging frantically through my favorite Lucky brand chocolate chip hobo bag, I finally found my trusty iPhone only to realize that it was a text from Jared.
    There was one word on the screen. Relax.
    I glanced up from the phone, our eyes meeting across the room. I wished I could be relaxed or at least look relaxed. Jared looked perfect, but he always did.
    He’d come directly from work and still wore his slick black athletic pants and simple Addidas running shoes. A black and white Tapout T-shirt completed what Anna and I always referred to as his official uniform. If only the rest of the normal populace could