book of lies → l.s.

lie #2 → you have a lovely home, harry

PART I

I've never been fond of Germans: not one nice poem could come out of their language, because every recital in Dutch sounded like an exorcism; their participation in the World War Two wasn't famous for good things, and the combination of colors on their flag really bugged me out. The postman was German and always yelled at Sammy – "Geht weg!". Apparently God was part German, too, as he made sure that my hatred towards the nation caused its enhanced appearance in my life. My boss was German and always wrote his name with an 'S', but pronounced it "Shtefan." I found exactly zero logic in that.

I also didn't find any logic in his call in the morning on the seventeenth of December – Sunday. Every American knew that Sundays were days for lazing around and taking a break from the weekdays' lazing around. But, unfortunately, Mr Shtimdt was German.

"Tomlinson!" he started with his awful accent. "You've been a no-show lately!"

"It's Saturday, boss," I defended myself, while browsing the TV's porn channels in the living room. "Let me get some rest." He wasn't impressed with my audacity and scoffed.

"I'll let you get some rest forever, if you don't move your ass. Jetzt!"

"I'm working on it," I murmured and hurried to end the call.

The truth is (and with the nature of my job in mind, I rarely told the truth) that I wasn't working on anything. There was only one idea in my head and it had been there for a week now, but I never proceeded with the long adventure that is realizing it. It was genial, ideal even. But it was also cruel and able to ruin somebody's life. I was ready to take the risk for my career though.

I grabbed my phone, turning off the TV's sound. I didn't want to scare him before I even start my task.

"Hello, Harry?" I said with a bright tone. "Do you remember me? Of course you remember me."

"Hey. I wasn't sure if you'd call me again."

"I surprised you then. What do you think about going out? We could go to some nice cafe this time." He didn't answer immediately, which angered me to some point. No-one was that shy.

"Well, I, actually... How about we meet at mine?" What kind of stupidity was that? I was offering him my company and he was declining! "I don't like crowds. And we were delayed with the salaries this month..."

I was silent for a few moments, but I had to lure him in somehow, so...

"Okay then. Text me your address and I'll be there in an hour." And I hung up.

Maybe he thought the proposition was too hurried, keeping in mind that we had only seen each other in person once. But I had just three months to finish my novel and I could sense that I filled his soul with an insatiable desire to communicate. I was his idol, after all. Everyone in his position would be exhilarated.

This time I put on trousers – black and just washed, shaping my ass to perfection, some shirt (I tried hard not to leave toothpaste prints on it) and black boots. And I went out. Sammy whined sadly as he was used to me dedicating this day of the week only to him. Not today. Today I was dedicating it to a curly-haired boy with the high hopes that his presence in my life will inspire me a little or a lot.

"Down, boy. Daddy needs to do something important or I'll lose my job." I knelt to pet him behind the ears, to calm him down. "Good boy."

***

I didn't expect the boy's humble abode to be Burj Al Arab as it was more than clear that he wasn't very well-off, but I was even more disappointed, when he greeted me at the door of his one-room flat that he was renting. It didn't even offer the comfort of having a kitchen and a living room in two separate rooms. While I had a laundry room, a bathroom and a toilet in three different spaces, he had everything packed in one. And on top of it Harry had a cat!