The Lying Game

Chapter 5

The meal at the Country Club was hardly a dinner – it should've been called a feast or a banquet or something that did the amount of food being served a little justice. Six courses were brought to the table – from an appetizer of crab and lobster to a main of venison Wellington, finished off with tiered stand of miniature desserts – and though Eric felt like he was going to burst after the fourth, he struggled on because, hey, when the hell was he going to get this kind of opportunity again?

Besides – if he spent the whole dinner stuffing his face, he'd have an excuse not to talk to the other people sitting at the table.

Now they were from a different world.

Celia's father, Harrison, was a tall, dark-haired man with a strong jawline and a particular way of staring Eric down as if he were looking for an excuse to have him executed and buried in an unmarked grave. He didn't smile once during the meal. He didn't talk much either, which was probably a blessing, because Eric was sure he'd slip up under the dude's icy glare. Anyway, Celia's mother did all the talking for the both of them...but not to Eric.

"They won't be friendly with you around Demi's parents," whispered Celia, "it's nothing personal."

Demi's parents – Agatha and something-he-couldn't-remember Knight were polite enough to Eric, but he could tell they didn't particularly like him. The Fontaines didn't speak much to Eric either – they clearly didn't want to take his side. Eric wanted to shake Demi by the collar of his stupid, tailored shirt and force him to tell the truth. Everyone was pissed at Eric for something he didn't do.

And then he remembered – no duh he didn't do anything wrong.

Because this was all an act.

They didn't hate him. They hated the Eric he was pretending to be.

He was just a character. An actor playing a role.

Suck it up, he told himself, sipping on a crystal glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, you're getting paid to do a job. You're gonna be the best damn Eric Valentine you can possibly be.

Everyone else was playing a role, anyway. They were all pretty well trained in the art of being polite and charming and positively fake.

Celia kept laughing and smiling at him like a girl in love.

Demi kept asking him questions and appearing interested or surprised at the tiny details he'd constructed.

Nina had done a complete 180. The glum, disinterested girl from the limo was gone, and in her place sat an upbeat, bubbly extrovert.

The only person who didn't appear to be putting on any sort of façade was Emile, who was still giving Eric the stinkeye, and snapped whenever anyone tried to talk to him. At least he seemed to hate everyone, and not just Eric.

Weird kid, he thought.

"So, Eric," said Agatha once the servers began to clear away their dessert plates, "when do you and Celia plan on getting married?"

Eric almost choked on air.

"We're trying not to rush things," said Celia quickly.

"But you are engaged?"

"Uh," said Eric, "yes?"

Celia glared at him. Damn. Wrong answer.

"Then where's the ring?" questioned Emile, "too cheap to buy her one, commoner?"

"Actually," said Eric, improvising, "I've arranged for us to pick out a ring next week, together. I want it to be her choice – after all, I want the love of my life – " – he cringed a little – " – to have some input."

Celia grinned, "See, isn't he so thoughtful?"

Emile scowled.

"Celia, darling," gasped her mother, "you never mentioned being engaged! Oh, oh no, this will not do. Someone fetch Natalia – we need to plan an engagement party!"

"That's okay," Celia held her hands up defensively, "honestly."

"Nonsense," said Harrison, sternly, "it'll be a good chance for us to meet Eric's family."

Eric cast Celia and Demi panicked looks.

"Eric's parents are wonderful," said Celia, "Olive and Ivan. They're a bit quirky, being new money and all – but I'm sure you'll adore them. I do."

"Then it's settled," said Agatha, "next week! An engagement party for my beautiful daughter and her dashing fiancé!"

"Wait – isn't next week a little soon?" said Eric, freaking out, "I have school –"

He realised he'd made a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Aren't you home-schooled?" asked Harrison.

"Short notice," smirked Emile, "you really do have a commoner's mindset."

"I mean – well, my tutor," said Eric, searching for words, "I have um, mock tests next week. For my A-Levels. My parents want me to have an education, and – um...I..."

"Eric sometimes forgets that he has power and money," said Celia, squeezing his hand before intertwining their fingers, "I think it's quite endearing. We'll sort it out, don't worry. Next week – our engagement party!"

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