Beautiful Liar | Adam Sackler

Second Choices

[Warnings: Cocaine and excessive smoking]

***

A gust of wind whips you with it's humidity, conveying a scent of mildew and ensuing rain throughout the city, as appending thunderstorms brew overhead.

A few pallets of rain dribble down your trench-coat, cascading into your eyes, as you squint to peer through the panes of glass that were blurred with beads of rain. It patters softly, a peaceful sprinkle, quaint and pebbling on bypassing cars.

The gallery was illuminated by an artificial glow that beamed through the windows— two familiar figures waddling around inside, one of them yapping spitefully at the other, sauntering around as they both worked leisurely to clean up the elegant, spacious foyer.

You harbor your breath in your lungs, turning the consequence over in your head, before shuffling through the entrance.

To appease the trepidation twiddling in your gut, you chose to check out the recently featured gallery that one of Hannah's dearest friends invested copiously in; just to indulge and ease your stress. You were an advocate for art— and mentally critiquing some modern paintings as opposed to replaying the harrowing turn of events with Adam seemed like a strong diversion.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," whom you knew to be Marnie acknowledges idly, arduously stacking unpacked boxes.

"I've got this," Jessa ensures with a pale smile, strutting over to you bleakly, clad in a flowy-fringe gown and mismatched, patchy shawl, that trailed her free-spirited, bohemianesque ensemble.

When she sees you, she cracks an amused smile, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. She cackles, jutting her hips, tilting her head. She surveys you through narrowed eyes, smirking.

"I've seen you before..." She beams, wry smile strengthening, voice low, as she continues to survey you and decipher her recollection.

You open your mouth to shoot back a response, but she vigorously snaps her fingers, eyes lighting up with familiarity.

"Aha." She explains dully, nodding to herself in confirmation, smirk lingering. "I do believe we have met before." She drawls her accent nearly playfully, although the monotony of her tone merely breached that.

"I thought I told you I would be handling customers," Marnie snaps, striding over briskly, portraying her controlling demeanor.

The slender, infuriatingly chiseled-face of Marnie flickers with disdain. She flashes you a venomous look upon encountering you, crossing her bony arms defiantly.

Jessa blinks, pondering, before extending your name in bewilderment. You nod in approval, smirking at the way her British equities accentuated your name delightfully.

"I know who she is." Marnie grits. Forcing a customer-service oriented smile. "Hannah's shitty replacement." She adds, mumbling snark under her breath.

You scoff, nibbling your bottom lip to suppress the wail of amusement you could feel bubbling in your chest at her blatant comment.

"Well, I wouldn't say shitty." You jeer with a feigned frown. "Maybe slightly less mentally ill, yes. But shitty? No, I haven't stooped as low as her quite yet."

Marnie's expression contorts into an aghast wince, her eyebrows springing up, lips parting in disbelief. "Uh, well." She implicates, offended, eyes bulging. "It's a matter of perception, I guess."

You grant her a contemptuous grin, flashing your pearly teeth. "I didn't really ask you how you perceived me, though. I actually came here to support your growing business, but you know, I don't mind a little nip at my ego." You shrug, gliding away from them in one suave movement, smirking contently as your eyes scan the promptly mounted paintings.