Lies      Lies

 by Kass

  

 Author's website: http://www.trickster.org/kass/

 Disclaimer: Boys are theirs, words are mine.

 Author's Notes: Thanks to Sihaya Black and Starfish for the beta-read.
This one was written in response to the mendacity challenge at
ds_flashfiction (the livejournal flashfic community).

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 "Yo. I'm Ray Vecchio." 

 Ray took another deep breath and retracted his hand and then offered it
again, firmly, to the mirror. "I'm Ray Vecchio." 

 Vecchio. The rhythm was all wrong, after a lifetime of saying Kowalski. 

 "Nice to meetcha. I'm Ray Vecchio." 

 He narrowed his eyes at his reflection. 

 "What: you never seen a blond Italian before?" He smirked at himself.
"Runs in the family. It's a rescuscitative gene." 

 Ray turned around and went back to the couch and tipped back another long
slug of coffee. He flipped the binder open and scanned the top page again,
then flipped it shut. 

 "I'm one of three kids. I got two sisters." 

 He looked over at the turtle. The turtle didn't say anything. 

 "I was raised Catholic. I was probably an altar boy. Jesus Christ,"
muttering to himself, "that's gotta be the only thing we have in common." 

 The binder was lying on the couch next to him. Was it his imagination, or
had it grown thicker? So much crap to memorize. 

 "I'm not married anymore." 

 Suddenly this wasn't so much fun anymore. He wished like hell that line
was a lie. His skin itched. Ever since Stella kicked him out, he'd been
wanting to get inked again. She'd used to think his tattoo was sexy, but
the last year or two she'd kept telling him to cover it up, not to go out
in wifebeaters anymore. 

 Christ, he wanted a new one. Something to hurt a little, to make him feel
like he was still in his skin. Instead he was shedding it. Or covering it
over, anyway. With somebody else 

 Ray flipped the binder open again and looked at the photo. No way was he
wearing those clothes. Screw that shit: he was sticking with jeans. 

 "Angie and I split. We're on good terms, though." He took a deep breath.
"Time heals all wounds, right?" 

 He wasn't sure if that was true or not. Ask again in three years, pal. 

 "Tomorrow I meet Constable Benton Fraser." The Mountie. 

 He had the story on how the Mountie got to Chicago, more or less, but
there had to be something people weren't telling him. What exactly kind of
best friends were they? All Frannie and Elaine would say was that the guy
was "dreamy," which was not exactly helpful. 

 "I have no fucking idea what I'm getting myself into." 

 That was true enough. Ray wondered whether Vecchio would ever admit
something like that out loud. He wondered whether he would, if there was
anybody there besides the turtle to hear him. 

 His coffee cup was empty. Ray got up again, paced the apartment, wound up
in front of the bathroom mirror again. The fluorescent lights were not
flattering: there were bags under his eyes. It was almost two a.m. He
needed some sleep. 

 He thought again about the photograph of the Mountie. About the names of
everyone in the Vecchio family (he was pretty sure he had the family tree
by heart). He looked himself in the sleepy eye. 

 "I can do this." 

 His reflection didn't look convinced. 

 "In fact, it gives me something to think about besides my ex." Saying the
words still hurt, but was it his imagination that they were starting to
sting a little less? "It might be kind of fun." 

 'Sure, Kowalski,' he thought. 'You just keep telling yourself that.' Ray
yawned. 

 Ray brushed his teeth, yanked his clothes off and into a heap on the
floor, and crawled into bed. He checked the alarm again. Tomorrow was a
big day. 

 "I'm Ray Vecchio," he said again, aloud, to his dark bedroom. 

 Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. 

End Lies by Kass: kass@trickster.org

Author and story notes above.