The Lying Game

Chapter 2

Like most teenagers living in the small village of Fairfield, Eric's Saturday was dominated by a part-time job and the overwhelming sentiment that, well, things in life just weren't free. Lakeview Café, a popular little place a couple of miles from the village, overlooked a huge body of water known as Markham Lake, and was where Eric traded his free time for some hard-earned cash. It was hidden along a country road and was the last whisper of civilisation for a good hour or so, until the woodland subsided and revealed a large town known locally as the Beverly Hills of the English countryside – littered with large houses, wealthy families and expensive boutiques. Eric had never been there, but he didn't want to anyway. The air that way reeked of pretentiousness.

That Saturday morning was bitterly cold – the wind had blown next-door's panel fencing across the street – but despite the goosebumps prickling his pale British skin, Eric was pretty damn happy to get out of the house. The weird phone call from the night before had lingered at the back of his mind all night and any attempt to get some shut-eye had resulted in nothing but frustrated groans. When his phone started blaring Fall Out Boy at 5:30AM he was genuinely glad for once that he had a reason to roll out of bed so early.

His job began at 8AM, but he always liked squeezing in a run beforehand. Running was his thing, and his route was always the same – through the village to the narrow country path and down to Markham Lake, where, on warm days, he'd swim a few laps. Today, however, Pneumonia wasn't on his agenda.

It took Eric just over half an hour to reach the lake, and his destination was always the wooden pier, which doubled as a diving board when the water wasn't quite as hostile. He stood with his arms spread wide, brown eyes looking out over the water. It was quiet – peaceful, even with the wind whipping at his shorts and threatening to shove him into the water.

"Careful, Part-Timer," a voice called out from behind, "wouldn't want you falling in. The lifeguards don't get here 'til May."

Eric turned to see an older male approaching, a bright grin plastered across his familiar face. Vince.

"I c-can swim, F-Full-Timer," he stammered. Christ, he sounded like an idiot. He hadn't realised he was so cold. His teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

The older male tilted his head, giving Eric the once-over with raised eyebrows. "Any reason you're dressed for California?"

Eric shrugged, dumbly. Perhaps tight running shorts and a thin vest weren't the smartest of choices for cold, October morning. His companion, however, was wrapped in a scarf, hat, and long black coat, which soon found itself draped around Eric's shoulders.

"Don't die, Part-Timer," he heard, shuffling his arms into the sleeves, "don't make me do all the hard work today, yeah?"

"Y-yeah."

He felt hands grip his shoulders from behind as Vince began to manoeuver him towards the café, "No slacking today, Eric, I'm sure we'll be busier than ever, you know – with all the business we get during Winter and that."

Eric laughed at the sarcasm. Business was slow. He wrestled from his colleague's grip and jogged towards the café, threatening to lock Vince outside if he didn't keep up.

Vince had worked full-time at Lakeview since the age of 17 – he was 24 now, had been friends with Eric since forever on account of him being Jay's older brother. The two bore no family resemblance though. In fact, if Vince looked like anyone, it was Eric. They shared the same dark eyes and auburn hair which they both wore in a messy fashion, and even the complexion of their skin behaved similarly; nicely tanned in the summer, pale as porcelain in the winter. He was only a few inches taller than Eric, but their age difference was apparent by a simple glance; Vince held himself with the demeanour of a sophisticated young man. Eric radiated pubescent awkwardness.