The Good Lie Novels & Stories

he just said then left. It was like they pulled a thorn out and Mallory breathed a sigh of relief when her boss left. It's hard to lie to him, especially since he is so kind to him. He felt even more guilty, and he was not good at lying. It's up to you, Mallory. You want that, you're big.You can handle that. You will be fine too. ---

“And the monsters swarmed across the border and started killing indiscriminately. For revenge.” Not exactly how it happened, but it was roughly how it happened, more or less. Mostly less. “Oh dear. That is terrible.” I was alongside the sarcophagus now. A few steps more (figuratively speaking — I wasn’t actually walking) and I’d be able to see inside the coffin. “Yes,” I said. “Very gruesome.” The problem with ‘good’ people is that they tend to have a distorted view of what ‘good’ is. They contradict themselves all the time. And their ability to hide this from themselves is truly impressive. Get caught in a lie? Improvise, adapt, overcome.

He clawed at his own hair desperately until blood seeped between his fingers. The lead police officer waved his hand in disgust. "Take her away." As Kimberly was dragged into the police car, she was still laughing hysterically. Her laughter, mixed with the sound of the sirens, echoed throughout the hospital for a long time. … Across the ocean, inside the GBC headquarters building in Lutton, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows in the editor-in-chief's office. That explosion had been meticulously orchestrated by GBC, using a staged death to grant me a new life.

He kissed her tenderly, then added with a smirk, "Even though in your case the lies have very nice legs." END

All of which were true, even if the truth itself was a lie. When Noah graduated college, I cried harder than I had in years. He got a job in New York big lights, big stage, big world. I packed his bags and kissed his forehead. “Call me every Sunday,” I said, fighting tears. He hugged me so tightly that I almost broke and told him everything. But I didn’t. Months passed. Then one Sunday, his voice sounded different. “Mom… I met someone. Well, not like that. A man. Older. He hired me. We talk a lot.”

The conversation drifted, voices dropping an octave as the exhaustion turned into that easy, liquid warmth that only comes at the end of a long day and the start of a good bottle. Leona leaned into the candlelight, her eyes gleaming with the kind of mischief that usually preceded a disaster. “We need to talk about the leather jacket guy,” she said, prodding my arm. “The one who asked if the villain’s habit of gaslighting everyone was… personal.” A spray of Pinot Noir nearly hit the tablecloth as I coughed. “I gave him a very professional, very firm ‘no’ with every fiber of my being.” Liza’s laugh was a sharp bark that had her sliding dangerously close to the edge of the velvet seat. “You lie

Next comes an ultimatum or a test. "Do you want me to be honest?" I'd never live if I were honest, but I've learned to lie with ease here. "Please. Entertain me." Be convincing. Be convincing. "I sleep better by you. You take great care of me, and I like your humor and laid back side, but you've damaged my trust. You hurt me, you killed my mom, and that day when we wrestled you were uncomfortable with my leg over you so I thought I'd turn it down a notch. I'm stressed and depressed. If I told you though I'd just get beaten...or poisoned." The lie comes naturally, and sounds much better than admitting my repulsion.

“Believe whatever you want, but I’m not in the habit of lying when the truth does just fine.” Lily searched his face. She knew Alex, or at least, she had known him. He was a lot of terrible things but he was also frighteningly good at lying and this didn’t feel like one. “You’re saying you don’t know Lena?” Lily asked carefully. Alex tilted his head. “I’m saying the name doesn’t ring a bell.” “Bullshit” Graham muttered under his breath. Lily reached into her bag with slightly trembling fingers, pulled out her phone, unlocked it, then she turned the screen toward Alex.

I laughed quietly. “You wanted employment,” he said. "I wanted work,” I corrected. His expression never changed, "this is work.” “No, this is acting,” I shot. “Wasn’t that what the contract was about?” he asked. Silence settled between us for a moment and finally I spoke. "I wanted a job because I didn't want people believing I was living off your name,” I paused. "And now they won't… they'll believe something worse. They'll believe every door opens because I'm standing beside Leonardo Moretti."